Masterful solo show of a C.S. Lewis tale
By Toby Zinman (Philadelphia Inquirer Critic, '08)
For The Inquirer
Location, location, location. Where are we? In a dingy town or a radiant abyss? Earth? Hell? Heaven? Life? Death? "And terror whispered, 'This is no place for you.' " Anthony Lawton's masterful solo show, The Great Divorce, adapted from C.S. Lewis' allegorical novel, creates location after location - all on a gray stage, wearing gray clothes, with a gray face.
   It begins, as many good stories do, on a dark and stormy night. A sensible-sounding man who has been walking endlessly but arriving nowhere joins a group of quarrelsome strangers waiting for a bus. The bus, not unlike E.M. Forster's Celestial Omnibus, is magical, flying through the air from this hell on Earth to a surprising heaven. The man meets a variety of ghosts, as well as giant angels who speak with Scottish accents.
   The characters - from the whining, misunderstood poet to the self-righteous, husband-crushing wife, to the "plain man" who only wants "his rights," to the outraged cynic who sees the wonders of the world as a series of tourist traps, to the degenerate tormented by his own lustful inclination in the shape of a small red reptile - all come to life through Lawton's voice.
   Much of what is remarkable about Lewis' story is the narrative detail: Life has been closely observed - birds, clouds, flowers, people's faces - and he can create spectacular images by painting with language on the mind's canvas. Each of us in the audience sees what we see according to our needs and our imaginations, from the unpluckable, diamond-hard daisy to the "man-shaped stains on the brightness of that air." Lewis' old-fashioned, very literary vocabulary springs to life, making us contemplate astronomical distances so great they "made the solar system itself seem an indoor affair."
   Much of what is remarkable about Lawton's performance is the detail - the bend of a knee, the raising of an eyebrow, the roll of an R - all the theatrical shape-shifting actors do that becomes part of the larger point: The actor himself seems both more and less than corporeal, "a man-shaped stain," an individual human as well as the human condition.
  Reprising his performance of 2006, Lawton clearly intends this as a show for the season: a deeply spiritual investigation into human behavior and moral responsibility. New Year's resolutions cubed.
   But the play is entertaining as well as thought-provoking. Consider this adorable zinger: "Who will give me the words to express the terror of that discovery? Golly."
   The difference between this performance and the one I saw two years ago (dimmed by time and cluttered memory) is that now it feels less optimistic, less an assertion of a redemption, of a person's capacity to learn from an epiphany, a revelatory dream, a philosophic inquiry. It seems merely to assert the necessity of self-renovation, not to declare the deal done.
   Lewis, a philosopher best known for his allegorical Chronicles of Narnia books for children, was a convert from atheism to devout Christianity, which may be one of the many possible meanings of the title The Great Divorce.

PERFECT UNION

by David Anthony Fox (Philadelphia City Paper, '08)

It's the most basic recipe for theater there is: a bare stage, an actor and a story. On the Lantern Theater stage, the actor is Anthony Lawton. The story — a ghost story, really — is C.S. Lewis' parable The Great Divorce. And the result is magic.

The actor first. Tony Lawton is a mainstay of Philly stages, and we're very lucky. I've seen him in more plays than I can count, and he's never given an uninteresting performance. Quite the contrary: In a huge range of work (drama and comedy, contemporary and classical, playing characters sinister and likable), he's varied, intelligent and often — as in Lonesome West last year, also at Lantern, where he is given some of his best opportunities — absolutely riveting. A few years ago, I would have characterized Lawton's acting as notable for a sly, unsettling raffishness — there was always a twinkle, but something a little destabilizing lay underneath. Like all of us, Lawton has gotten older. But as an actor, it's only made him more interesting. The boyishness is still there, and so — when necessary — is the danger. And like all great actors, he is in masterful control. But now, Lawton shows a new level of experience, tinged with mournfulness. It's these qualities that emerge through so strikingly when the lights come up on him, ashen-faced, eyebrows fixed tragic-comically, as he begins narrating.

Now the story. A group of people, not obviously connected, find themselves bus-bound one rainy night on a long ride that has no clear purpose or destination. Though Lewis provides some context — on one level, Divorce takes place in Britain during the dark days of World War II — it becomes gradually clearer that the setting is metaphoric, the characters ghostly shadows shuttling between heaven and hell. This journey — "vacation," as Lewis dryly puts it — is a test of character, even a lesson in "goodness." Those who know Lewis only through his Chronicles of Narnia novels might be surprised by the wry and very adult themes here, though they will recognize the underlying Christian allegory.

Lawton has done the adaptation himself, and one of the great joys is his way with the charmingly archaic prose. He serves as narrator as well as playing the various characters, each of whom is delineated by skillful body language and accents — but to me, the greater exhibition of virtuosity is the way he can create a vivid visual picture from the slightest play of textual emphasis and facial expression. From the quiet, seemingly casual beginning to the unforgettable final moments, Lawton has us in the palm of his hand. For Philadelphia audiences, The Great Divorce is unmissable, and a celebration of the very happy marriage between Tony Lawton and Lantern Theater. Let's hope for many anniversaries to come.

One man, but many characters, expounding on the route to heaven

Douglas J. Keating

Philadelphia Inquirer Critic (2005)

The narrator of The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis takes a strange bus ride that sends him from a dreary, rainy city of eternal twilight up through the cloud-laden sky to a place of eternal light and the promise of better things to come. Yes, we are talking about a journey from hell, which looks pretty much like Earth at its most dismal, to heaven -- or at least the entry to paradise. But the simple, fantastical structure is deceptive. Although Lewis wrote the still-popular Narnia Chronicles for youngsters, The Great Divorce, which local actor Anthony Lawton has adapted and is presenting in a solo show produced by Lantern Theater, is hardly a fanciful children's story about a bus that flies. Instead, it's a piece in which the foremost literary Christian apologist of the last century puts forth his opinion of what it may take for a person to enter the kingdom of heaven.

That's Lewis' ultimate purpose, but he conveys his religious views in such evocative, observant writing, and Lawton does such of fine job of presenting the many characters and emotions of the story, that even those who are not in sympathy with Lewis' beliefs should find The Great Divorce engrossing theatre. (The running time, just over an hour, also helps.)

Lewis contends that to enter heaven, a person must acknowledge and shed the bad behavior that made others on Earth unhappy. It's a very Christian view of confession, redemption and rebirth, but Lewis also makes it clear that one needn't wait till the heavenly gates come into view. One can and should try to change in this life.

By showing flawed humans unwilling to alter their ways, even though it means they are denied entrance to heaven, Lewis demonstrates graphically how difficult -- nay, nearly impossible -- it is for people to change. It's a sobering view that feeds into the deeply felt Christian despair that Lewis evokes in the final moments of the story.

Lawton has adapted other works by Lewis to the stage, and his affinity for the author's views informs and deepens his always intense acting style. He presents the many characters of the piece colorfully. They have a real individuality and provide a sense of the lonely separation from others that Lewis sees as inherent to the human condition.

If excellent, passionate performance in the cause of Christian doctrine can get an actor to heaven's entry, Lawton has a place waiting for him on Lewis' bus.

A C.S. Lewis adaptation

Julia M. Klein

Philadelphia Inquirer Critic (1998)

The Mirror Theatre Company, which is presenting an original adaptation of C.S. Lewis' fabulist novel The Great Divorce, is really Anthony Lawton

That may be all you need to know: The Temple-educated Lawton, apparently recovered from his 24-hour stint in Brat Productions' The Bald Soprano, authored this adaptation and is its only performer. In the best tradition of one-man shows, Lawton (in white face) quickly makes us forget that he is only one man. Adopting a range of British accents and demeanors, he sharply portrays a variety of characters -- including, most memorably, a woman who makes her husband's life a living hell.

Lawton describes the piece as "the journey of Clive, a hapless professor, who takes a bus ride from hell to heaven" -- and who then must decide whether to stay. The truth is, both the geography and iconography of Lewis' fantastical world are somewhat difficult to comprehend on first viewing.

Even as Lawton immerses us deeply in Lewis' utopian and dystopian imaginings, we struggle to situate ourselves, both spatially and morally. The nearest parallel I could summon was to Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, in which other-worldly visions also serve didactic, Christian ends.

However tangled the story's threads, Lawton is mesmerizing -- fully deserving the standing ovation he received Tuesday night.

Destination: Heaven

DAN ROTTENBERG

Amid a thundering rainstorm, a wretched academician finds himself alone in a deserted town whose center seems unreachable no matter how long he walks toward it, because the town’s selfish inhabitants are constantly expanding its boundaries by moving to its outer limits in order to avoid each other. The scene could be America’s atomized suburbs of 2007, where everyone gets what they want (except a community) and everyone wonders why they’re unhappy; in fact, it’s C.S. Lewis’s 1946 vision— part Dante, part Kafka, part Freud— of the afterlife as a place where souls are condemned to heaven or hell not by God but by their own psychological baggage. Here the departed are free to move back and forth between the physical heaven and hell— since, after all, some folks are miserable even in Paris while others find joy even in Detroit.

This adaptation of the Lewis novel, brilliantly conceived and performed by Anthony Lawton, vividly evokes a succession of surreal scenes (without benefit of any scenery or props) as well as a broad range of characters who speak in many dialects. My favorites include a henpecking wife who, having driven her husband away, yearns for the burden of setting him straight again, but on her own terms (“I must be given a free hand”); a curmudgeon who finds hell boring because it lacks fire, brimstone and devils with pitchforks; and a cautious soul who must summon the courage to excise the worst of his demons, with whom he has grown all too comfortable.

Lawton's preoccupation with the psychological nature of heaven and hell begs the question of what happens in the afterlife to people who feel perfectly fine about themselves (Osama bin Laden, say, or George W. Bush) but cause real physical damage to others. (In one interlude, a murderer winds up in heaven, much to his victim's consternation.) But this is a minor quibble. Lawton's one-man, one-act play of just 75 minutes constitutes as intelligent and provoking an evening as I’ve spent at the theater in a long time; it’s often devastatingly funny as well. As performed during the week of Gerald Ford’s death, it also provides a cogent explanation as to why Richard Nixon remained in hell even when he reached the White House, and why Ford remained in heaven even when he left it.

Incidentally, The Great Divorce demonstrates the benefits that accrue when an actor writes his own material— at least, when the actor's interests extend beyond the narrow world of the theater. (For more thoughts on entertainers' infatuation with themselves, see my review of Chicago.) I haven't encountered Lawton before (I missed the Arden Theatre's recent A Prayer For Owen Meany), but I'll watch for his name in the future, and so should you.

Published: Dec 20, 2006

Best one-man theater company

Hans Kellner, Philadelphia City Paper

The Philadelphia Fringe Festival has produced at least one new theatrical contender: Tony Lawton's Mirror Theater Company. Last year, Lawton went from heaven to hell and back again in Shel Silverstein's The Devil and Billy Markham, a brilliant one-man show of death and redemption told entirely in rhymed couplets. This year, Lawton soloed once more in The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis' moving allegory of eternity and the afterlife. Pretty heady stuff, but not for a company so explicitly dedicated to exploring issues of God, faith and Christianity. Lawton works spectacularly well as a solo artist; it will be exciting to watch his company of one expand to include other voices of comparable wit and daring.

The Screwtape Letters at The Lantern

Philadelphia City Paper

Thursday, January 10th, 2008 at 1:55 pm

posted by mark cofta

Through January 13, Lantern Theater Company, 10th and Ludlow streets, 215-829-0395 lanterntheater.org.

How do you make a religious treatise fun? Set it in Hell, and teach indirectly through the ironic voice of a middle-management devil instructing a minion how to steer a man away from "The Enemy." The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis (of renewed Chronicles of Narnia fame), seems an unlikely work for stage adaptation, but actor-writer Tony Lawton’s energetic version succeeds.

Lawton, who made an engaging monologue out of Lewis’s The Great Divorce last year, enlivens Screwtape’s letters to his novice Wormwood with interludes featuring Genevieve Perrier as Toadpipe, Screwtape’s icy-cold Bond Girl assistant. Each time she delivers a report from Wormwood, she and Screwtape engage in some sort of combat: acrobatic physical battles, a fire-eating contest, a ferociously fun tap duel, and even whip-cracking sexual games. These are all surprising, spectacular encounters, the thrill heightened by the small space (the squeamish should avoid the first row).

All this action spices the meat of the matter, which is an often clever and insightful exploration of the idea of Love as humanity’s divine trait. Screwtape instructs Wormwood to battle against it with all sorts of temptations - the biggest of which, sounding very modern in its identification of the evils of television and video games, is idleness. The obstacle to the empty, tedious life Wormwood shapes for his victim is genuine pleasure - so, don’t fear, this isn’t another "just say no" lecture.

Screwtape confesses, however, to not understanding Love; it must be, he insists, merely The Enemy’s ploy. Lawton shows this cocky devil beginning to glimpse greater ideas, making what in lesser hands would be merely recitation into powerful realization.

Missing The Screwtape Letters out of distaste for pumped-up election-year piety would be a mistake; though Lawton scores an easy chuckle when Screwtape hangs a sneering Dick Cheney portrait, the play skewers today’s preening politicians regardless of party with venomous glee. (Some ironic commentary may be unintentional as Lewis couldn’t have foreseen our current administration when he had Screwtape complain of "a failure of our intelligence department.")

Go for the showy pyrotechnics like Perrier’s increasingly slinky outfits, the actors’ daring choreography, even the witty PowerPoint presentation that illustrates Screwtape’s letters . . . and stay for the fascinating rumination on contemporary morals through Lawton’s all-too-human devil.

Anthony Lawton in “The Screwtape Letters.”

The Screwtape Letters is a play everyone will enjoy

By R.B. Strauss

Artstalker

As a Jew, I wandered into The Screwtape Letters, based on the novella by noted Christian writer C.S. Lewis (he of Narnia fame), not knowing what to expect. Boredom? Befuddlement? An excuse for a nice nap? I was thoroughly entertained, and yes, engaged. True, some of my interest was because of my unfamiliarity with Christianity, but for the most part, the show’s success was due to the performances by Anthony Lawton, who also adapted the work, and his costar and basically silent partner, Genevieve Perrier. They make a dynamic duo indeed.

Though Lawton handles most of the speechifying, this is not a long, drawn-out monologue. Rather it is a series of epistles fired off by Screwtape (Lawton), a mid-level demon in Hell, to his underling and nephew, Wormwood, on the whys and wherefores of seducing a single soul to the dark side. Punctuating each dictation, Toadpipe (Ms. Perrier) returns with a follow-up missive from Wormwood and then the fun begins in earnest in the form of nifty dance numbers and other bits of business that rely on timing and sexual tension in equal measure. Oh, and both cut loose with solos to boot.

The work itself is just as vibrant, without a scrap of verbal flab or pedantic proselytizing. Screwtape comes across as someone who is just plain tired of it all, and since when do the jailers become the jailed? Indeed, this poor functionary in the vast corporate bureaucracy that is the Underworld is trapped in his own circumstances, though I wondered where he goes when five o’clock rolls around. He explicates evil thoroughly, and it cuts across all faiths in its laserlike precision and simple delineation. There is also a purely existential component to swearing a soul to sin in that Screwtape offers up the same bit of business that Sartre did: Hell is other people. Indeed, the micro and the macro are given the same attention. A petty annoyance with one’s mother can set one on the road to damnation just as easily as if one were a war criminal.

It doesn’t matter if you are rich or poor, either. In fact, the more prosperous you are, the better, as there is a whole world of devilish delights that one can afford without blinking an eye. Here, I was reminded of Wordsworth’s famous poem, The World Is Too Much With Us, with its classic image—“Getting and spending.” Indeed, one tonic against evil is just what the Romantic poets offered, a nice stroll to appreciate Nature. Nature is genuine and real, whereas so much else that embodies temptation is fake.

However, Screwtape doesn’t have all the answers. He is certain that God and His minions are just as manipulative and small-minded, yet there is something that he doesn’t get, that he can’t get, and it is killing him. As to what that is, you’ll have to see the play. Oh, and a miracle happened to me during the matinee, in that when a tune by Led Zeppelin rocked the house, not only was I not disgusted by a band I’ve hated from the moment I heard them way back in 1969, but I actually enjoyed the song. Who’da thunk it?

JANUARY 11, 2008

Phillyist Reviews... The Screwtape Letters

Tap dancing! Martial arts! Fire swallowing! S&M!

Is it the latest show by the Peek-A-Boo Revue?

No. It's the Lantern Theater Company's revival production of The Screwtape Letters, adapted from the book by C.S. Lewis by, and starring, Anthony Lawton. As with all of C.S. Lewis's works, Screwtape has a decidedly Christian slant— in this case, speaking on the ideas of faith and morality, and how their abandonment could mean eternal damnation— but the story and execution can still be enjoyable to the "heathen" audience.

The book is composed of a series of letters written by Screwtape, an upper-level demon (as far as the "lowerarchy" is concerned) to his nephew Wormwood, a junior tempter sent to earth for the sake of corrupting a young man's soul, such that when he dies, he'll be sent to hell. The play takes these letters and makes them into a ninety-minute lecture on good and evil, and how to cultivate the latter while pretending to be the former. That description might sound a little boring, but the production is anything but, thanks to Lawton's dynamic performance. So persuasive a Screwtape is he that at some points, you even find yourself agreeing with him. "Yes," you find yourself saying, "love is a construct!" Probably not what C.S. Lewis had in mind, but effective nonetheless.

Lawton is helped by the always-impeccable Geneviève Perrier. Usually more of a girl-next-door (as in the Lantern's The Lonesome West and Mum's Fantoccini Brothers Return), her mostly-silent role in Screwtape is dirty-hot, sexy in that kind of "I can't introduce you to my parents" kind of way. Playing Toadpipe, Screwtape's snarky secretary (say that five times fast!), Perrier enters between scenes and handles live fire (literally handles it), a giant bull whip, and some pretty serious-looking surgical instruments, all the time looking... like she was naughty enough in life to land herself a spot in Hell.

And though Lawton himself is a fantastic Screwtape, it's the entre-scenes with Lawton and Perrier that often steal the show. The monologues, although interesting, can get a little dull after a while (through no fault of Lawton's acting, but perhaps through fault of his adapting), and the dance numbers and pantomimed scenes rouse the audience from their theological navel-gazing and ready them for more. Do they have anything to do with the plot? Not much. But without them, The Screwtape Letters would feel incomplete and unsatisfying. Bravo to Lawton for anticipating this and rectifying it, giving the audience a complete, cohesive production. It's obvious why it was such a success that the Lantern decided to revive it.

January 7th, 2008

The Screwtape Letters: In Review

Posted by uwishunu in Theatre

(7 votes)

Post by Mary van Ogtrop

Now that the most wonderful, family-filled and gift-giving time of the year is behind us, it’s the perfect time to get demonic with The Screwtape Letters.

Based on C.S. Lewis’ 1942 novel – categorized as Christian fiction – The Screwtape Letters is a sexy, comical and often explosive (read: fire-eating) exploration of the seven deadly sins.

Anthony Lawton, recently named Philadelphia’s “Best One-Man Theatre” by City Paper, stars as Screwtape, a mid-level demon trying to mentor his nephew Wordwood, a “newbie” demon, in the ways of tempting a soul into a lustful and debaucherous life. Genevieve Perrier is his chain-smoking, tight-lipped secretary – and a bit of a temptress in her own right.

Lawton is incredible in his own adaptation of the novel, spinning out Screwtape’s monologues with the devilish stoicism of a master rhetorician. But all Screwtape’s wit and witticisms don’t add up to much when he’s stuck in, well, Hell. None of his musings on double standards, self-centeredness and all-out hedonism can help him understand the Christian notion of love. And that drives him crazy.

Lawton and Perrier light up St. Stephen’s Theater with truly interactive (and very athletic) performances, where multimedia displays inform the narrative and techno music or Led Zeppelin can lead to a dance number at any moment. Fair warning: some of the imagery in the play can be a little unsettling. But that’s sin, baby.

The Screwtape Letters: The Devil You Say

By Matthew Ray

Published: Jan 08, 2008 10:51 AM

Updated: Jan 08, 2008 11:06 AM

Posted to: Concert/Show Review

The Lantern Theater Company stages an adaptation of C.S. Lewis' novel, The Screwtape Letters, which chronicles a demon's efforts to mentor his protégé in the art of evil.

If you’ve spent the last couple of New Years ignoring your resolutions and indulging your vices, you should go see The Lantern Theater Company’s production of "The Screwtape Letters" at St. Stephen’s Theater at 10th and Ludlow.

An adaptation of the C.S. Lewis novel, "The Screwtape Letters" is a dramatic look at moral downfall through the letters of a demon, Screwtape, to his protégé Wormwood. With each letter, Screwtape mentors the demonling Wormwood on the tricks of the soul-snatching trade. How to use lust and greed, pride and self-righteousness to turn the human “patient” away from “The Enemy” (God).

Anthony Lawton’s performance as Screwtape is devilishly wonderful. He does double demonic duty not only as the lead, he also adapted the novel for the stage. Joining Lawton is Genevieve Perrier as Toadpipe, a sultry secretary ghoul. In between scenes the terrible two gnash the seven deadly sins in vignettes ranging from tap dancing to fire eating, with a sprinkle of light S&M thrown in for good measure.

Despite a large dollop of humor, this show isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s a stark reminder of the vanities of life, and a deep and unabashed look at personal and secret lies. Theater for the spirit, perhaps? Maybe. It can be funny in places, it can be grim in others, and you might find yourself a bit reflective when you leave. But how often do you actually get to travel to Hell and back without getting burned?

The Screwtape Letters runs through Jan. 13 at The Lantern Theater Company @ St. Stephen’s Theater, 10th and Ludlow, Philadelphia, PA

215-829-0395, www.lanterntheater.org

Posted on Fri, Jan. 4, 2008

Where sex and violence needs spicing up

By Toby Zinman

For The Inquirer

Lantern Theater presents the reprise of Anthony Lawton's adaptation and performance of The Screwtape Letters. If you like 90-minute sermons - albeit cunning ones - on the Christian tenet of God's love, this show is for you. If you like good theater but find smug homilies on the nature of evil tedious, you'll have some good acting to watch if you can stay awake.

C.S. Lewis, best known for The Chronicles of Narnia, which are also Christian allegories, is, apparently, Lawton's man; he adapted and performed Lewis' The Great Divorce in 2006. Making a religious treatise stage-worthy is a mighty feat, and Lawton, with the agile help of Genevieve Perrier, spices up what is, essentially, an immense monologue using the usual seasonings: sex and violence.

The show at St. Stephen's Theatre opens in an office in Hell; Screwtape, a middle management devil, has the job of overseeing Wormwood, a young devil assigned to corrupt a human being. This novice's reports are delivered by a hostile cutie-pie (Perrier) - who does not speak until near the end, but who appears in various costumes to sneer, seduce, tango, and sensually writhe. Her two battles with Screwtape - especially the ferocious tap dance - are the best of these interludes, while the sexy scenes are fairly embarrassing in their lack of subtlety. There are various circus acts - performed in amazingly close quarters - involving fire-eating and whip cracking (at which point a small prayer to Whomever might be a good idea if you're sitting on the front row).

The monologue is comprised of Screwtape's letters, replies to Wormwood's reports. In them, he explains the processes of corruption used to achieve the desired goal: damnation. "The safest road to Hell is the gradual one - soft underfoot, no sudden turnings." He deconstructs hypocrisy, family, and boredom, but remains stymied by the mystery of God's love of mankind. The assumption that morality is a function of Christian theology might be seen as particularly irksome, immersed as we are in the current swamp of religious electioneering.

The set features a screen for a PowerPoint presentation; we see photographs of the sweet-faced "subject" and his mother, paintings by Bosch, Dali, and Fuseli, charts illustrating the relation of the human will to intellect and fantasy, headlines announcing the start of World War II, and a variety of other visual aids. A photograph of Dick Cheney oversees it all from the wall. Stuff certainly does happen, but not in this play.