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Paul Reviews Wolfpit by Phoenix Theatre Ensemble

It is a rare occasion that I am privileged to witness a play that becomes more than a memory, but a cognizance of a concept I had never examined before. In 1154, two green children appear from a ditch, speaking no English and refusing to eat. The resulting effects on the townsfolk who discover them provide the basis of Glyn Maxwell's Wolfpit. Taken from recorded tales from that era, Maxwell makes the story fully his own. Through compelling characterization, powerful themes and striking symbolism, Wolfpit feels to be more than merely memorable, but a work of art.

Contributing much to the artistic nature of the play is the language. The diction of the characters is convincing of the 1154 setting, and the actors are able to wield it with dexterity. Maxwell's language is not usually identifiable as verse rather than prose. However, the characters' soliloquies and the couplets that often end the scenes are distinctly poetic, as are the three songs sung by the ensemble.

This poetry of language, when taken into account with the approximate time period and other aspects of the play, felt nearly Shakespearean to me. The wit and banter of the townsfolk, with the use of asides and schemes, felt very similar to much of the comic relief used to contrast to the dramatic tension that Shakespeare often employed. Additionally, pitting regular individuals against fantastic occurrences and observing the outcome reminded me of many of Shakespeare's plots. This is both a credit to Maxwell and perhaps a nod to the other performance in the Phoenix Theatre Ensemble's 2006 season: The Complete Works Of William Shakespeare (Abridged).

There is a direct contrast, however, between the characters in Wolfpit that work, and the ones that don't. Each character changes due to the discovery of the children, driving the play's conflicts. Tom Parch (Craig Smith) both opens and closes the play with a monologue. He is characterized by scheming, wit and trickery, and represents the cruel, abusing nature that can overcome humans when they are presented the opportunity. This theme resounds throughout the play, combining with the uniquely human trait of denial to make the point that, even if otherworldly beings could make contact with humans, chances are they would not.

Ned Staner (Jonathan Tindle) is initially the character most frightened by the children, but he soon becomes the one who misses them most. This nuance fails to save the character, however, and he becomes lumped with Sara Staner (Elise Stone), Bethan Coley (Angela Madden) and Whityard (John Lenartz) as characters who feel unnecessary. There are some fascinating aspects to Sara's desperation for a relationship with Richard Calne (Jason O'Connell) and the children that make her somewhat more important. However, the vast majority of the focus falls on the other characters. This problem lies not wholly with the actors, but with script and direction that prevents these characters from being rarely more than onlookers. Perhaps with certain changes, these characters could have been given roles that allowed them to enter into the action more fully.

In comparison, Juxon (Jason Crowl) is the most refreshing, exciting, and powerful human character in the play. Masterfully using the alternate vernacular of the Norfolk, he exudes intelligence, understanding and wit. His confrontations with Calne are real and tense, fueled by their different relationships to the green girl. While Juxon wishes to help her return to where she came, Calne forms a love for her, which is real and palpable to the audience. Calne's decision at the end of the play is a powerful, poignant moment. Additonally, his conflicts with Deazil (Joseph Menino) highlight the overwhelming force religion plays in the lives of the villagers, as well as the important connection between religion and the children revealed in the play.

Of course, the children are the crux of all the action in the play. From the moment the Green Girl (Nicole Raphael) and the Green Boy (Margo Passalaqua) crawl out from behind the stage, it is clear that they are not from this world. Director Robert Hupp and the actors did a superb job in crafting the movements, voice and expressions of the children, making their inhuman characteristics real and unsettling. Costume designer Margaret McKowen must be given credit as well, for the children are indeed completely green. This simple effect does more than any amount of computer-generated special effects ever could.

Maxwell's use of color and food symbolism is an additional, noteworthy layer. I wished I had been able to read the text as well as see the show, in order to examine the literary level that was sometimes lost in the performance. Green, representative of nature and vitality, is the color of the children, and initially the only food they will eat must be green. When the green girl begins to accept human ways, she becomes yellow, the color of the sun and representative of the change to white and red, the color of European human flesh. Red is used to represent the violence of humans through bloodshed, blood-soaked human hands contrasting the green-hued ones of the children. Black represents the evil force looming over the villagers at all time, allowing religion to control and threaten them. Finally, silver is the moonlight that the children are inherently drawn to, highlighting their otherworldly nature. Food is mentioned in both the beginning and ending soliloquies, it is the source of the first conflict between the humans and green children, and is mentioned throughout the play. It is human sustenance, acceptance of food marks acceptance of all things human, both good and evil.

The few rough spots within the play are results of the close proximity of the actors to the audience. However, disbelief could be wholly suspended, these flaws being overshadowed by the intimacy that results. That is what makes Wolfpit so successful: That such a fantastic premise is executed so masterfully. The complexity and unusual nature only add to all the positive points of the production, and the result is a remarkable play.