A Small Hole
The New York Sun
Fringe Free-for-All Cleans Up Its Act | Download PDF
August 14, 2006
For those of you who are intent on meaning, however, you might want to try “A Small Hole,” a would-be literary head trip by playwright Julia Jarcho and the collaborative outfit Performance Lab 115. Lab is a good term for this group, because this marriage of Jane Austen and the Marquis de Sade smacks of a grand, avant-garde experiment its creators hoped might result in a potent dramatic potion.
“A Small Hole means to further the theater in the larger sense.”
Jarcho dissected Austen’s least popular work, “Mansfield Park,” and inserted bits of Marquis de Sade’s play “Justine” to be performed in an amateur theatrical. The quintet of characters don and doff, in lightening exchanges, English country manners and sadistic behavior. The language is artful and oblique, and the acting at a high level from this mercurial and appealing cast. Still, it’s doubtful that the text’s deeper meanings will be extracted by anyone beyond Ms. Jarcho and some Austen scholars.
That said, the Fringe could use additional works like “A Small Hole” — plays that attempt to be more than amusing, attention-getting, or potentially commercial. Opaque as it is, “A Small Hole” is an artistic endeavor. Most Fringe shows are content to merely take part in the festival; “A Small Hole” means to further the theater in the larger sense.The former is a merry choice, but in the end an empty one.
The Village Voice
Pardon Our Fringe | Download PDF
August 23-29, 2006
Playwright Julia Jarcho’s “mutation” of Mansfield Park, with its Sadean overlay (the Marquis’s Justine replaces the German Romantic play Lovers’ Vows as the internal theatrics), does its best work in showing how utterly commonplace such corseted trappings can feel: Jane Austen’s problem child, as presented (a major portion of the script is taken from her text), has enough reserves of sex and politics on its own—e.g., men who believe a glass of Madeira is the fix for any female ill. The poor and virtuous Fanny spends much of the play in a box, and Elena Mulroney’s portrayal goes from faintly annoying to Ibsen-level powerful in seconds. With the startlingly choreographed ball scene and its evocation of Austens past, the performance affirms the potential for inventive transformation.