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Picasso at the Lapin Agile ponders drinks and metaphysics

by Adrienne Martini

There's just something about a bar that leads the mind to wander. Perhaps it's the alcohol, perhaps the company of fellow drinkers. Personally, I'd like to think that these mental trips stem from having a confessioner-like figure in the form of a barman (or woman) tending to your drink of choice, providing the fuel for whichever mental journey you happen to be taking—or not. Maybe I'm overthinking this. It's probably just the hooch.

Regardless, bars are great places to ponder the meaning of life and, incidentally, set jokes. Hey, did ya hear the one about the night Picasso and Einstein met in a Paris bar and changed the next hundred years? For the punch line and various other wine-soaked musings about life-altering events, head up to Oak Ridge (ironically another major setting for a moment that metamorphosed the world) and get tickets for the Playhouse's Picasso at the Lapin Agile.

Which is not to say that the play itself will change the world. Steve Martin (yes, that Steve Martin—Let's Get Small guy, former Disneyland employee, art critic, banjo player, and screenwriter) writes plays that come off like a poor man's Tom Stoppard; that is, long on quantum-esque ideas but short on solutions and insight. Like Stoppard, however, Martin pads his lofty thoughts about the nature of time and fame with keenly-honed wit. And it is that sometimes subtle, sometimes slapstick humor that truly makes the show something to enjoy.

Ostensibly, the Picasso takes place in a turn-of-the-century French watering hole, one peopled by a cross-section of the period's literate intelligentsia, with each of Martin's characters representing a major movement afoot at the time. There's Freddy, the 'tender, who firmly clings to the classicism of the past; and Gaston, the old man who proves that the past is still kicking—even though it has to pee more frequently. Along comes Germaine, waitress and Freddy's girlfriend and firm follower of earthy practicalism that seems to echo the thoughts of her contemporary, non-fiction namesake. And then, of course, Picasso and Einstein represent, well, themselves really but also the 1900s admission that art and science may not be as far apart as we once thought.

In the actual playing of this play, however, the ideological underpinnings of the characters become interesting to speculate about but largely irrelevant. Half of the fault lies in the script; Martin seems to set up twice as many "big" questions as he can possibly answer in a one act. The other half lies with the cast; director Patrick McCray wonderfully sets up Martin's incomplete moments of "big" thoughts, but the cast as a whole isn't quite polished enough to play them out.

And that's fine. No, really. The performers as a rule are entertaining and engaging, full of spirit and exuberance and joie de vivre, which beats an over-studied, static, and downright weighty performance any day. There are also some stand-out performances, like Ted Lehmann's sparkling turn as Gaston, Tiffany No�l Smith's robust Germaine, and Brandy Estep's finely drawn trio of women. Rick Baldwin, who also just happens to be a Metro Pulse cartoonist, proves that he belongs behind bars with his warm Freddy. And Christopher Steven Giles as a surprise visitor almost brought set designer Jim Prodger's house down, in a very good way.

Even though this supporting cast is more fun than a box full of puppies, a lot of the pressure of carrying the show comes smack down on the shoulders of Adrian Bundy as Einstein and Jason Griffith as Picasso. Bundy and Griffith can more or less pull off Martin's witty banter, but they do have some problems with digging into the meat of their characters and making them come completely alive. Perhaps this will change once these two move past the opening weekend and all of its concurrent angst, and finally get a chance to settle into their roles and learn how to capture an audience. Still, the energy that they bring to the stage makes Picasso a whirlwind ride, if one that lacks toothy substance.

But that's really about what you'd expect from lofty ideas spouted over a drink or two—energetic deliveries that make perfect sense at the time but seem somewhat shallow in the harsh light of day. And that's half of the fun, because you stumble across a gem every now and again. While that gem may need a good polish to capture its full potential, it is nonetheless lovely to have all of that idle-yet-oddly-meaningful chatter create a noteworthy result.