ARTS

Quills is Dying to Break Free

by Ben Gleason

At the heart of the devilishly voyeuristic play Quills is a play that is dying to break free from its historic constraints. While senior director Chris Niebling incorporates rich artistic gestures to emphasize the devious inner workings of the Marquis de Sade, at times the drama gets bogged down by its own exactitude. Indeed, Quills overemphasizes the minutiae of the Marquis' life when such trivialities are best skimmed over.

For all its theatric shortcomings - dragging out the philosophic arguments, the lackluster performance from the supporting cast - Quills is held together by the stunning depiction of the Marquis by first-year Jeremy Carlson. In a maniacal performance that recalls such lunatics as Tom Hulce's Mozart in Amadeus and Peter Hinwood's Rocky in Rocky Horror Picture Show, Carlson digs deep to avoid a mere glossing over of this complex character. Which, for all its grandiose theatricality, would have been easy to do. The plot of the play is deceptively simple: talented provocateur extreme gets locked away for various crimes, continues to write despite numerous tortures, along the way angering his jailers with his steadfast resolve. Enter the pair of turnkeys who made it their first order to cement shut the artist's muse: Dr. Royer-Collard (sophomore Pete O'Leary) and Abbe de Coulmier (senior Will Alexander).

Striking a stern pose of authority and constraint, the Doctor urges the Monsieur to be more strict with the Marquis. "You treat him like a man," he says. "Therein lies your mistake. He's all but begging to be strung up by the toes." The Doctor has ample reason to treat the Marquis harshly, for the Marquis' wife, Renee Pelagie, (senior Melon Wedick) has agreed to compensate the Doctor substantially for his efforts. Renee of course objects to this bribery, saying, "It's beyond perversity that honor should carry a price tag," but she finds herself at wit's end. As a graceful woman of society, her life has all but been ruined by the lascivious nature of the Marquis' work. Money, it seems, will go a long way to restore her in society.

At first the Doctor's task of curtailing the Marquis' insidious prose seems relatively straightforward. The only price to be paid for this censure comes at the hands of the Marquis. When Abbe questions his perverted value systems, the Marquis responds with a treatise on the nature of happiness. The Marquis maintains that while people are forced to live under society's constraints, this is an inversion of the true nature. He said, "Morality is a convenience, nothing more...primal nature - that's unchanging." As the play continues, life for the Doctor becomes increasingly more unpleasant.

Not only is the Doctor in charge of the mentally unstable patients, including the licentious Marquis, but his own friends are turning the tables on him. The architect designed to build his house, Monsieur Prouix (sophomore Jim Williams), is beginning to have eyes for the Doctor's wife. And though Abbe stripped the Marquis' room of all writing elements, the artist one-ups his captors by using his own blood as ink. In desperation, Abbe orders everything from his room, including his clothes. Rid of his powdered wig and fancy clothes, the innocuous writer suddenly appears less enticing and more base. For the rest of the performance, the Marquis strides around the stage, trying to maintain his humanity while Abbe and the Doctor attempt wrestle it from him.

Though the philosophic arguments were undoubtedly revolutionary in the late eighteenth century - Marquis was tossed in jail for almost thirty years - by our standards they taste a bit stale. Quills works best when viewed as mere entertainment. This is not to undermine the artistic endeavors by the director. The first act was both subtle and theatrically bold. Both the dialogue and the eerie musical score were woven together seamlessly.

The climax of Act I left the audience visibly perturbed, haunted by the Marquis' libertine prose. Act II, however, did not fare as well.

The second act continued the jailer's indefatigable quest to end the Marquis' writing. Though the Marquis continually maintains that it is life itself, not his writing, that is perverse. He says, "My subject is culled from life and perceived as truth." As the play carries on, the audience watches acts of grotesque violence unfold around them. What was initially begun to curb obscenity begins to turn on itself.

In a moment of obvious disillusionment, Abbe says, "I am a priest. I don't have the capacity for heresy." It is statements such as these that ring in the ear of the audience, representing the complete reversal of all natural order.

Though Act II marks the culmination of the plot, the emotional element is not carried with it. The world that the Doctor intended for the Marquis falls apart around him and nothing can be done to stop the consequences. For both the Doctor and the audience, though, it's too late. Instead of a final, jabbing stroke to the psyche, Quills musters mere theatrics.

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Copyright © 2000, The Oberlin Review.
Volume 128, Number 14, February 18, 2000

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