‘Revolution’ in Anaheim Hills turns on ideology and loyalty
by Eric Marchese
Going against the grain of society is never easy, even when your conscience tells you that your thoughts, feelings, actions and motives are on the right side of the issues.
In “After the Revolution,” we get an entire family, the Josephs, whose Marxist bent has repeatedly poised it in opposition to most other Americans. That makes things thorny for the family, for as one Joseph tells another, “The United States has always punished those who speak out.”
As Chance Theater’s Southern California premiere staging shows us, that swimming upstream factor isn’t all that distinguishes Amy Herzog’s 2010 drama.
Long-held beliefs regarding a key figure in the Joseph family are suddenly revealed as possibly having been built on untruths. This rocks the clan to its core, pitting various family members into opposition and fierce debate.
Troubled most by the revelations about pivotal family member Joe Joseph is his granddaughter Emma (Marina Michelson), who manages and runs a non-profit fund in his name.
At issue is the extent of Joe’s activities during the height of the Cold War. Emma had always believed he was blacklisted for being an “ideological Communist.” But a new book about to be published names him as an American who spied for the Soviet Union during and after World War II.
Joe’s widow Vera (Katherine McKalip) tells Emma that in those days, the ideals of the Communist Party’s platform were closely aligned with ethics that were fairly commonplace in American society. So the idea of party membership was not as outrageous as it might today sound.
Likewise, family friend Morty (David Carl Golbeck), a major donor to The Joe Joseph Fund, tells her that in the East Village in the ’40s, “spying” was commonplace.
Hitting a lot closer to home, Emma’s dad Ben (Robert Foran) tells her, was the attention and scrutiny of the government: The family lived under FBI surveillance, its phones were tapped, and everyone in the Joseph home “lived in terror.”
But Emma finds she’s unable to put herself into Joe’s place, or the place of those he sympathized with – nor can she reconcile his actions with what she had always believed about him.
Herzog delivers the level of sophistication you’d expect of any play concerning such learned, erudite characters while supplying them with aptly witty dialogue. Hers is an intelligent, beautifully crafted play about how ideas and their power can affect individuals and entire families or groups – especially those dedicated to ideals and to accomplishing something noble in life.
The play also gives us a view of the effects of political involvement and activism upon families. The ramifications of what Joe Joseph did (or didn’t do), and how it’s now being framed by his descendants, reverberate throughout his family – and throughout the play itself.
That the play is set in 1999 and not the present day makes perfect sense: The new millennium hasn’t yet arrived, but because the 20th century is nearly over, its events can be analyzed and dissected with some measure of objectivity.
At Chance, the acting is aptly low-key, straightforward and direct. Director Oanh Nguyen’s cast is exceptional in its depiction of the family as a whole and of its individual members.
The staging has some welcome laughs, too, which emerge in natural fashion from the script’s serious issues. The first few scenes simmer before the play picks up steam toward the end of Act 1, its issues coming to a head in Act 2.
Any emotions generated by “Revolution” remain behind the fourth wall and between Herzog’s characters. Her refusal to indulge in the touchy-feely may make the play less palatable for some. That detachment, though, provides perspective – distance which, in an ironic way, allows us to connect with the story’s characters and to feel for them.
Because of this, unless you’ve experienced what the play’s characters have – and how many of us can lay claim to that? – you’re not likely to be emotionally moved by “After the Revolution.” A production like Chance’s, as good as it may be, is more food for thought than grist for the personal emotional mill.
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