A Near-Perfect "Opus"

By Jana Pollack, New Rep Reviewer

"Opus" is a rare theatrical experience: a new piece of work that is different, moving, and swirlingly beautiful. In this ensemble drama, New Rep has produced a well-acted and well-staged piece of theater that explores an artistic community by bringing the audience directly inside and allowing us to watch it slowly explode.

The play chronicles the tumultuous journey of a renowned string quartet. The actors do not play their instruments, but it is better that way; they move their bows in perfect time with the recorded sound, and the effect is stunning. What is more impressive is their emotional responses to the music they are creating. Anyone who has ever collectively produced something beautiful will respond to this, as the looks on their faces clearly represent what it means to be taken outside of yourself by the act of producing something you love.

There are many good things to say about this production. I'd like to start by commending two actors in particular. As Elliot, the unhappy, closeted leader, Michael Kaye is fascinating to watch. His composure, outwardly perfect in his first moment onstage, is just an inch away from cracking in every moment that follows, and it is almost painful to bear the strain with him. But the instances when he lets his guard down are elating, and his presence on the stage is impossible to ignore.

Brilliant in a quieter way is Bates Wilder as Carl, the cellist. Carl avoids the drama of the group at first, and it is only halfway through the play that Wilder's impeccable acting becomes noticeable. He is all there, enveloped in his character, and when Carl becomes an important player in the tug-of-war, we've come to trust him so much that it all makes perfect sense.

The rest of the ensemble — Shelley Bolman as the laid-back narrator, Benjamin Evett in the difficult role of Dorian, the ousted genius, and Becky Webber as the protege replacement — is strong, as well. However, in playing crazy Evett occasionally takes it too far; especially in the scenes he shares with Michael Kaye, his emotions feel somewhat strained and unrealistic.

In mockumentary style, the action is interrupted so that individual actors can share monologues with the audience. This technique can be hard to pull off effectively, but it works quite well in “Opus.” One reason it is effective is the choreographed nature of the monologues. The play opens with the four members of the group standing in silhouette, and lights come up and down on each of them as they speak, often overlapping. This serves to set up the group dynamic, which continues to evolve as the play moves forward. The interview style is used throughout the play, and though it is not always as powerful or telling as in that first moment, it helps to preserve the feel of the piece as a case study.

Which, in many ways, is what it is. Watching "Opus" is like watching the best of documentaries; it feels that real and that gripping. The friendships, romances, and power struggles are clear and difficult, and the tension rises brilliantly. The elation, camaraderie, and deep disappointments that come from throwing yourself into your art form are crisply articulated. New Rep's production of "Opus" is a combination of technical triumphs: interesting, meaningful script, excellent acting, and skillful sound and lighting design. It is also a very human piece of theater with long-lasting reverberations.

While rehearsing the show's biggest musical piece, Opus 131, Dorian says to Elliot: "It's not good enough." Elliot responds that he can't be perfect. "No," Dorian says, "just ... closer." This play is not perfect. But it is close.