Hell of a play
Feature photo: Untitled 1948 ink drawing by Pavel Tchelichew I found in the Art Institute of Chicago. This review was modified from its original publication on The Daily Texan website from October 3, 2023.
French chanson plays inside a Presbyterian church as the guests take their time to fill up one of the rooms. They are here to see Austin City Theatre’s production of “No Exit” by Jean-Paul Sartre, an existential play first performed in 1944 Paris and originally translated by Paul Bowles.
In “No Exit,” one must abandon the idea of Satan, torture chambers, and Hades’ gated labyrinths as three strangers are locked in a drawing room when they enter the afterlife. Instead, the vision here is cruelly simple and well-carved: Hell is other people.
Photo by Abby Greenlee who I met for the first time 10 minutes before the show.
Director Jeff Hinkle does justice to the drama, titled “Huis Clos” in its native French. Warping eternity into one act lasting a little over an hour, Hickle’s danse macabre spills with ghastly irony as the audience politely chuckles at an autobiography of their own fears and self-doubt.
The performances of Garcin’s (Darren Scharf) exhausted contemplation, Estelle’s (Alexandra Russo) neurotic, self-absorbed twitches, and Inez’s (Dawn Erin) smirking eyebrows are like looking in the mirror. They are all too familiar, diabolical, and condemned to the perception of the other’s eye for eternity.
Potent with ripe pauses, the play flows on existentialist dialogue. The characters look past the audience rows, a little over the top of their heads with some eye contact, as they look at what people are saying about them back on Earth. They rotate between sofas in a coordinated choreography across the room, guiding the viewer’s pupils and mind alike.
The production proves shaky in some parts on out-of-range audio n the few musical transitions between monologues. However, the script sticks well, with self-evident acting from the four-person cast among (one of whom, Russo is a holder of a theater degree from UT) and their well-received delivery. Dawn Erin’s solo additionally brings a brilliant punch of dark humor.
This play is not a spit in the face (a maneuver really done by one of the characters) but a ringing in the audience’s ear. Estelle, a character who constantly seeks approval as she reapplies her lipstick, searches for her own reflection in Inez’s eyes. “I feel so empty, desiccated – really dead at last. All of me’s here, in this room,” Inez says as sees watches her living bedroom being leased to another man on Earth.
Sickening, thudded, and humorously dark, Hinkle’s direction of “No Exit” serves a performance both striking and paralyzing.
