Adding Machine, a Musical (review)

Abstract

Reviewed by: Adding Machine, a Musical Carol A. Fischer Adding Machine, a musical. Music by Joshua Schmidt. Libretto by Jason Loewith and Joshua Schmidt. Based on the play The Adding Machine by Elmer Rice. Directed by David Cromer. Minetta Lane Theatre, New York City. 3 April 2008. For those concerned that musical adaptations of plays can lead to disappointing changes (such as the absence of the masked man at the end of Spring Awakening), Joshua Schmidt and Jason Loewith offer an intelligent, faithful version of Elmer Rice’s The Adding Machine (1923), keeping intact both the words and the expressionistic spirit of the play— from the opening moments, to the communication of “dis-ease,” to the depiction of heaven and hell and the externalization of inner states of being—with the use of technology throughout emphasizing the tension between man and machine. Adding Machine, a Musical evoked expressionism— without being self-referential—even before the production began. Washed in lime-green light, the pre-show stage housed an imposing concrete-looking wall angled toward upstage center. Three desks were stacked on top of one another so that sidelight cast shadows hinting at prison bars, silently introducing the external imprisonment to come that parallels the pervasive inner entrapment of the characters. A bed standing upright on its foot-end was a disturbing opening visual indicating the lack of rest in that world. Being thus positioned voyeuristically, the audience seemingly gazed down onto a nonsleeping couple, with Mr. Zero (Joel Hatch) turned away from his wife as she sang the vituperous opening monologue. Cyrilla Baer was an operatic Mrs. Zero, vocalizing a booming attack, then descending from higher registers to a Brooklyn-like colloquialism; her talk-sing voice repeatedly stabbing “I was a fool for marrying you!” and “You ain’t much to be proud of!” stylistically emphasized the inner discontent in the marriage and in their lives. Episodic scenes revealed the underlying stress points in Zero’s life: first his wife, then his workplace, where his boss states that he is being replaced by an adding machine. The electronic music of a synthesizer mixed with piano and percussion reinforced the inner traumas of the man, expressing Zero’s anger as it motivated murder. Abruptly, the music changed the audience’s focus to Daisy, played by Amy Warren, who sang her long-harbored romantic daydreams about Zero in an endearing, bluesy “I’d Rather Watch You.” But the reverie ended as sharply as it began with the entrance of a particularly nasty evening party accompanied by discordant carnivallike underscoring. Visuals and music worked together to reflect the discontent and ruthlessness at the heart of the Zeros and their community. Heightening the sense of “dis-ease” was makeup that hollowed eyes, and staging that had actors looking over the audience or past one another. Enhanced by a touch of the fantastic, the wellcrafted scene in a jailhouse illustrated what musicals can accomplish with panache. Each of three prisoners was enclosed in his separate cell, with just enough space for him to sit on a stool. While Zero ravenously ate a requested last meal of scrambled eggs and ham, he failed to notice the ridicule being sung at him by the jailers. As they removed his plate, his wife entered carrying a plate of his favorite meal, ham and eggs, which he ate as well. In a moment of possible marital redemption, the Zeros sang about good times in a number, “Didn’t We?” which included the jail cells being lifted by their occupants [End Page 643] Click for larger view View full resolution Joel Hatch (Mr. Zero) and Cyrilla Baer (Mrs. Zero) in Adding Machine, a Musical. Photo: Carol Rosegg. [End Page 644] and waltzed around in a dance break; the reconciliation shattered when Zero asked his wife to give a scrapbook about him to his co-worker Daisy. The distinctive anomalies of a musical continued as the fellow-jailbird Shrdlu narrated his sordid story in intricately interwoven dialogue and song before the convicted were marched off, jail cells and all, to their executions. The music and sung lines punctuated the thought begun in spoken lines, even as the power of the music...