New York Review: New Ohio Theatre hosts An Other Shore production of “The Karamazovs”
Natalie Rine, Associate New York Critic
In a small town in the middle of the country, Fyodor Karamazov is dying. His children (Alyosha, Viv, and Dmitri) return home to settle a dispute about money. Much like a subverted Succession, despite carving out new lives for themselves, each is in the midst of their own personal crisis. Their attempts at connection are complicated further when brother Dmitri is charged with murder and they are forced to reconcile their need for justice with their capacity for love. This is Other Shore’s production of “The Karamazovs,” a freewheeling distillation of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, now playing at the New Ohio Theatre (154 Christopher Street, Manhattan).
Under Anna Brenner’s deft direction, this “Karamazovs” looks at the gaps in the original novel’s story, where abuse and misogyny are accepted, and subverts them as Liz, Fyodor’s caretaker, narrates the play. A triumph of multimedia, cross-genre storytelling that champions investigative boldness in devised theatrical experiences, this is a fresh, titillating production not to be missed.
Brenner’s adaptation excels by layering subtle caricatures and anachronisms of a modern American family onto Dostoevsky’s 19th century novel, enhancing each family member’s unique individualism to excavate a new kind of pain in this classic family reckoning story. Like turning a kaleidoscope of distilled and distorted, mesmerizing imagery, each scene presents us with a different angle from whichever family member fancies taking the spotlight. There’s Alyosha (a haunting Rachael Richman) who has found refuge in religion, Viv (feisty, swaggering Mary Tuomanen) a queer intellectual, and Dmitri (provocative Ross Cowan) the charismatic screw-up of the family. Then there’s Tymberly Canale as caretaker Liz, an enigmatic and titillating narrator. We learn very little about the father of Karamazov's except through Liz’s embodiment or disembodied voice painting a facsimile of him. As his caregiver, Liz is tasked duly with parading around a long-wired microphone where she can give voice to unseen father when needed; their bond is thus inseparable and inescapable, as the microphone snakes, coils, and follows wherever Liz and the siblings go.
Each performance works harmoniously with the others, each actor a gem of tragicomedy. With the contemporary flurry of texting sounds subtly haunting the background at times, their witticisms and ramblings wax equal parts philosophic and poetic like only the brush of youth can bring, questioning everything in sight and flinging personal truths and interpretations at the speed of modern thought. This is magnified literally by exquisite camera work following the actors around, drawing attention to the minutia of facial expressions and physical exorbitant expressionism that the characters seem to have overcome them at times, as if being possessed by something, a sum greater than the parts. Each actor does come together in unity through the physical dancing and movement pieces interwoven in the play. These moments draw attention to when words aren’t enough, when secrets lie beneath and each of their individual subtexts fight to break free. Each of these differing theatrical expressions employed, whether sound design, camera work, or dance, besought that we each have the right to our own inner monologue and interpretation of events regardless of what is “true” or “reality” as interpreted by others. “Truth” is individuality, freedom of self, and as the original novel suggests, not always fair.
This beautiful intensification of the classic story is a plea for a country, justice system, and family to live up to their own self proclamations and understandings, a plea to stop hiding behind closed doors and masked voices and confront consequences of difficult, often dark thought and actions. This sentiment defies any one nation or century, resonating with a 2020 American audience more than ever to face the music that “man does not live on bread alone,” and community and reconciliation are desperately needed in the face of familial tragedy, especially given the new layers of disregard for the arcane gender roles of the original characters. Gender, family, and societal roles may change over time, yet the Karamazovs ultimately “break bread together” at the finale scene, all complicit in an inescapable intergenerational compilation of guilt, trauma, and shared experiences that—regardless of if they like it or not—defines who they are. Other Shore’s “The Karamazovs” is a playful kaleidoscope of the traditional and contemporary, a passionate retelling of a timeless struggle between justice and love that will leave you haunted and resilient.
New Ohio Theatre hosts An Other Shore production of “The Karamazovs”
“The Karamazovs” is Written and directed by Anna Brenner, in collaboration with the ensemble: Tymberly Canale, Ross Cowan, Rachael Richman, and Mary Tuomanen. The creative team for “The Karamazovs” includes set and lighting designer Oona Curley, composer and sound designer Elizabeth Atkinson, costume designer Oana Botez, projection designer Yana Biryukova, props designer Buffy Cardoza, video associate and graphic designer Tatiana Stolpovskaya, choreographer Tymberly Canale, and dramaturg James Rutherford.
Thirteen performances of The Karamazovs will take place March 4–21 at the New Ohio Theatre, located at 154 Christopher Street in Manhattan. $20 tickets are available online at thekaramazovs.com or by calling OvationTix at 212-352-3101. Standard ticketing fees apply. Show runs 100 minutes with no intermission.
Photo Credit: Maria Baranova