'Tis Pity She's a Whore

When I was growing up in New York City in the 1950's, I became a theater lover by the time I was 6 or 7. I would avidly scan the New York Times theater section every day for the latest reviews and accompanying Al Hirschfeld cartoon (I became quite an expert at finding the Nina or Ninas hidden therein.) Around this time, some theater mounted a production of the bloody Jacobean revenge tragedy 'Tis Pity She's A Whore by John Ford. I can clearly recollect being deeply intrigued by the mysterious title of the play as soon as I saw the advertisements and reviews mentioning it. What could the title mean? Specifically, what was a "whore," and what could be so pitiable about being one?

I asked my parents, and distinctly remember how obviously uncomfortable the question made them. (This was the '50's, remember; my parents were very conventional WASPs, albeit liberal and well-meaning.) They gave me some vague explanation about it being an unfortunate woman of ill repute, which left me completely in the dark and forced me as usual to seek an explanation from my more worldly classmates at school. I never lost my fascination with the play though, based on its intriguing title and my early encounter with it, and always wanted to see a production somewhere. I finally got my wish just this past week at the current American Conservatory Theater production of 'Tis Pity She's A Whore right here in San Francisco.

The American Conservatory Theater is self-consciously the doyenne of San Francisco Bay Area theatrical companies. Perhaps for this reason, there always seems to be an overly earnest feel to ACT shows, as though the actors, director and management were trying a little too hard to convince themselves and the audience that they really were the top theater company in the Bay Area, and just as good as any theater in New York. My experiences at ACT productions have always been mixed. For every outstanding production I've seen, I have had to sit through two or three so-so, mediocre, or downright disappointing ones, with too few really outstanding actors on stage. All too often, I've thought that ACT had let its own name go to its head; it had become over-ACT.

I'm happy to report that the current production of Jacobean playwright John Ford's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore does not suffer from any of these problems. It is the best production I've seen at ACT in ages, without one false note. The production itself, directed by ACT artistic director Carey Perloff, is relatively traditional, at least in its stunning Jacobean period costuming and style. I appreciate this -- there is no self-conscious attempt to impose a director's concept on the piece, and Ford's harrowing vision is allowed to speak for itself. The acting is uniformly superb. This is especially true of the two leads: Michael Hayden and René Augesen as the incestuous brother/sister lovers Giovanni and Annabella. Hayden and Augesen are absolutely incandescent in their depiction of an ungovernable sexual attraction so intense it overwhelms every barrier in its path. I didn't know lust could be so terrifying until I saw these two superlative actors ignite the stage in this production.

I could go on and on about how incredible Augesen and Hayden are. But mention must be made of at least some of the other really outstanding actors in this production. Veteran ACT stalwart Anthony Fusco is mesmerizing as Vasques, the wily servant who instigates most of the blood letting at the end of the play. The ever-reliable James Carpenter -- my personal all-time favorite Bay Area actor -- does a great turn as the duplicitously villainous Richardetto. Susan Gibney is stunningly charismatic in the role of Hippolita, the jilted lover of Annabella's unwanted suitor Soranzo (performed by Michael Earle Fajardo.) Gibney is also a very accomplished dancer, as she proves in the scene at Annabella's wedding to Soranzo. Finally, Robert Sicular and Steven Anthony Jones each turn in solid, completely convincing performances as, respectively, the father of the incestuous lovers and their religious confessor.

The one clearly contemporary -- and utterly original -- aspect of the production is the musical accompaniment. This was composed, and is performed at each performance by, the singer-composer "hard-core" self-described riot grrrl cellist Bonfire Madigan Shive. Shive hails from the Seattle grunge rock scene, but is also classically trained. She plays her gut wrenching jazz/baroque/renaissance cello riffs while seated on a kind of organ-loft like contraption suspended above the stage, where she looks for all the world like some weirdly angelic ornament. Although she is rarely entirely silent, she is never obtrusive on the action. The music that issues from her cello and her incredible voice is perfectly matched to the volcanically emotional action on stage. She well deserved her end-of-show ovation.

I waited a long time to see 'Tis Pity. This magnificent production was worth the wait.