For theater fans, there is something special in the air right now. After over 18 months of venues being closed, health codes have allowed the doors to open back up. So long as you can provide proof of vaccination, there are shows every weekend that are sure to entertain and remind you of how great this art form is. While it may have stalled out due to the pandemic, the return has been exciting simply because of how eager everyone is. The audience finally gets to remember the sense of community while picking up brochures for upcoming productions. Meanwhile, nowhere is it clearer that this is a special moment in time than with the stage and crew getting to do what they do best.
As one of the first productions of the 2020-2021 season, Long Beach Playhouse has chosen an ambitious endeavor. Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes is a two-part play that has since become one of the essential pieces of dramatic theater by exploring the AIDS crisis in America during the 1980s. The Tony Kushner-penned play is so expansive that even if they’re only currently putting on Part 1, Millennium Approaches (Part 2, Perestroika is planned for the 2021-2022 season), it still fills a full three hours with only eight actors and limited use of props on a two-level stage. Most additional scenery is projected onto a backdrop with many stories intertwining, overlapping with a rhythmic cadence that overwhelms the themes of unity and isolation in ways that only a stage can truly achieve.
On the surface, Angels in America would be a daunting show for anyone involved. Most of the characters involved are reflective of the gay community in a 1985 version of New York. There are constant scenes of anguish, where doctors revealing AIDS diagnoses cause elaborate monologues filled with fear and denial annunciated from the bottom of the actors’ souls. These moments overwhelm, reflecting the vulnerability that would make one worry about their future. There was no cure for AIDS, only trials that very few had access to. Characters wander around the stage, trying to find the motivation to keep moving forward while coughing up blood, watching loved ones grow weary of sacrifices. There’s mental anguish in every character to the point that Kushner has incorporated a dreamlike world where characters intersect, not knowing each other personally but growing empathy for the human condition. It’s the type of heady theater that in lesser hands would leave the audience in a state of permanent despair.
But that’s not Kushner’s intent. For as much as this is one of the essential texts on big cultural shifts in the LGBTQIA+ community, it benefits from a script that tiptoes between darkness and light so efficiently. There is first and foremost an understanding of character, of recognizing that there is life in these queer characters outside of AIDS. In the case of figures like Roy Cohn (Noah Wagner), there is a moral complexity that unravels as his 80s Republican persona hides realities of his private affairs, not denying his relationship with men but rejecting any chance of him being gay. In other places, there are characters like Prior Walter (Christian Jordan Skinner) whose condition has slowly weakened him, causing vibrant hallucinations as his social life dwindles down to zero. The way that Prior tries to hide his pain behind humor is an example of how well the characters are written. Even during the funnier exchanges with boyfriend Louis (Michael Mullen), there is some sense that everyone is just trying to escape the horrifying reality.
The most impressive aspect of director Ryan Holihan’s production is how swiftly one scene transitions into another. With limited blackouts, one scene immediately moves into the next as the projected background changes. It is often done with nothing more than a light emphasizing what section of the stage to focus on. Characters are often in the middle of deep, poignant conversations when suddenly another would wander on stage, setting everything up or simply looking around until ready to interject, shifting attention to them. The way that a bare-bones stage can convey an entire city is astounding. Outside of dramatic pauses, there isn’t room for silence, constantly keeping the audience invested in what’s happening next. Whatever props they use are practical, never distracting from the bigger story.
At various points throughout the show, Holihan achieves something sublime with simple staging. In a scene where Louis is talking to friend Belize (Richard Martinez) at great length, Prior is seen near the center of the stage receiving chemo, dwindling away. Prior’s performance by this point lacks energy but the choice to contrast this with Louis’ anxiety and desire to escape his failing relationship is perfect. Both are examples of characters wanting to escape their position. On the surface, it seems selfish but Kushner builds each with enough sympathy to make their struggles feel plausible. Everyone is trapped. By the time that arguments break out, including a balletic example of two opposing conversations crossing over each other’s spaces onstage, there is so much humanity on display. Kushner has captured the emotional toil both in literal ways, but also through these abstract images, moments mirroring each other, and treating deflection as a valid form of coping.
Not every performance is directly motivated by the presence of AIDS. With many of the actors playing multiple roles, there’s also an emphasis on the emotional toll that comes with the concept of death. The show opens with a rabbi (Lisa J. Salas) giving a eulogy before trying to give Louis advice on how to seek forgiveness. Elsewhere is Harper Pitt (Allison Lynn Adams), wife of Joe (Brian Patrick Williams) who is stuck at home alone and grows afraid of different rooms. She may or may not be planning a trip to Salt Lake City with help of an eccentric travel salesman named Mr. Lies (Martinez) who may or may not be real. Her world is the most abstract of characters, allowing more metaphysical elements to be introduced and push the realms of what this show can achieve.
By the end of the three hours, a lot has been achieved within the confines of a stage. Certain plot devices are best experienced for oneself. This is especially true in the closing minutes where the show reaches something exhilarating. The whole third act itself goes into more experimental directions and it should be commended that the cast and crew pulled it off. Whether it be on a narrative or spectacle level, Angels in America builds in subtle ways to something immersive, landing the audience so directly in their emotions that the experience is transformative. It transcends the simple ideology, of trying to see gay characters as three-dimensional and familiar. It even exceeds gimmickry, using ideas that are initially absurd to reflect a richer depiction of these characters’ internal and external lives.
To the cast’s credit, they make every minute immersive. Their ability to time entrances and exits alone keeps the show progressing at a brisk pace, making the three acts never feel tedious. Most of all, they feel real. Even when Roy Cohn is on the phone juggling multiple conversations, the Jerry Lewis-esque gag is building character, allowing for subtext to be developed. Kushner’s script perfectly balances light and dark, and the actors are able to inhabit the stage opposite each other without overstepping. Their ability to transition without it feeling abrupt accentuates the parallels nicely, keeping the viewer anticipating the next move. In the more abstract scenes, the characters become more eccentric and the actors do a good job of never deriving them too much into caricature. There’s heart and humor throughout, and together the eight actors keep the balls in the air, juggling them so effortlessly.
In what is probably the biggest accomplishment in a show full of them, it’s the way that it ends. For many other productions, three hours would be the point where a story reaches exhaustion, needing to quickly wrap up themes. Angles in America barely feels like it’s getting going. There’s so much that needed that time to build and while it ends certain threads in satisfying ways, the cliffhangers are a curious affair. The final 20 minutes are some of the show’s strongest, and it’s in part because of how it feels like it teases a greater, more ambitious show to come in Part 2, Perestroika. Given how successfully Long Beach Playhouse put on this particular production, there’s high anticipation for what happens next.
Even on a local scale, theater is back! There is so much anticipation for this art form to be revived and hopefully come back stronger. Given that there’s a whole lot more where this came from, Angels in America is a great way for Long Beach Playhouse to bring audiences back. It’s an important work that’s done very respectfully with actors clearly eager to push boundaries and help the audience redefine their relationship to how theater is staged. This is an immersive show, filled to the brim with every emotion, eventually becoming more interpretive art than a direct story. Thankfully a writer like Kushner is able to make it all land with rich poignancy. Here’s hoping that nothing disastrous happens between now and next season, because it’s clear that they’re more than likely to pull off something special when they return to this story. For now, they should be more than proud that they brought this epic to life so perfectly, capturing the nuance and heart of characters so intimately. Here’s looking forward to a great return and that the rest of the season manages to live up in some small way to this achievement.
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