Goodman brings Bolano to the stage in gloriously ambitious '2666'
Page-to-stage translations are tricky. What to leave in, what to exclude and how faithful to remain to the source all pose challenges.
I measure an adaptation's success by whether it inspires me to read the book. But when it came to "2666," the enigmatically titled novel by Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño - with its nearly 900 pages, shifting tone and multiple storylines - I decided to be proactive and put a library hold on the book.
I couldn't get my hands on it before Goodman Theatre's world premiere, which was adapted and directed by artistic director Robert Falls and resident playwright Seth Bockley. Fortunately it didn't put me at a disadvantage for this gloriously ambitious production.
A meditation on pandemic violence, the 5½-hour show also contemplates the function of the artist. What is his/her role? To inform? Provoke? Distract? Amend?
An epic endeavor that took 10 years to realize, "2666" is accessible thanks to Falls and Bockley's skillful weaving of disparate narrative threads. The pacing makes the running time palatable and the acting impresses. Still, "2666" felt cool to the touch. I left the theater impressed by the effort but vaguely unsatisfied with the outcome.
With each of its five acts rooted in obsession and animated by love, "2666" begins with a lecture and concludes with a fable, with a police procedural and some cinema vérité in between.
In the satirical "The Part about the Academics," we meet European literature professors - played by Sean Fortunato, Lawrence Grimm, Demetrios Troy and Nicole Wiesner - whose mutual passion for elusive, mid-20th century German writer Benno von Archimboldi evolves into passion for each other.
In between dalliances, the academics track Archimboldi to the fictionalized Santa Teresa, a crime-ridden Mexican border town modeled after Ciudad Juárez, where more than 300 women and girls have been sexually assaulted, mutilated and murdered since 1993.
Unable to locate Archimboldi, the professors are distracted by booze, sex and grisly tales of the unsolved murders told by Spanish expatriate Oscar Amalfitano (a truthful, emotional Henry Godinez). Like them, Oscar is obsessed. But his obsession involves his comely, teenage daughter Rosa (Alejandra Escalante), whom he raised after his disturbed wife Lola (Charin Alvarez, luminous in her vulnerability) left them to pursue an insane poet.
"Madness is contagious," declares lovesick Lola. She's not wrong.
We get a sense of it in "The Part About Amalfitano," in which Oscar becomes increasingly desperate to protect his daughter from the killer preying on Santa Teresa's women. Rosa, however, insists upon going out with volatile boyfriend Chucho (Troy), party girl Rosita (Yadira Correa, terrific in every role) and clownish Charly (Juan Francisco Villa). They meet Oscar Fate (Eric Lynch), a writer for a Harlem magazine who's in Mexico to cover a boxing match. After hearing about the murders, Fate tries to convince his editor to let him pursue the story.
His tale unfolds in the nightmarish third act, "The Part About Fate," which is accompanied by several Shawn Sagady videos including a chilling, suspenseful little film that captures better than almost anything Santa Teresa's seamy underbelly. In this act we also meet Guadalupe Roncal (played with anguished intensity by Sandra Delgado), a reporter whose investigation into the murders is hindered by halfhearted police work and apathetic officials.
Guadalupe returns in "The Part About the Crimes," the compelling, cringe-inducing penultimate act that reveals the magnitude of the carnage. The murders don't matter much to Santa Teresa's corrupt detectives (the exceptionally despicable Grimm, Troy and Fortunato), who spend more time drinking Mezcal and making repugnant jokes about the victims than they do on their search for the killer.
A Greek chorus regularly interrupts to share the names of the victims, hammering home the enormous loss represented by the nude body of a murdered woman which remains onstage throughout. It's a disturbing illustration of how a culture that devalues a certain population, in this case women, provokes atrocities against them. The idea is echoed in the "The Part About Archimboldi," which takes place in Germany during World War II and centers around Hans (a splendid Mark L. Montgomery), a Prussian peasant turned soldier turned novelist.
The performances are first rate. Fortunato is riveting as a middle-management Nazi with a secret. Adam Poss brings unfailing decency to the role of a rookie police officer determined to do his job. And Janet Ulrich Brooks is good as ever as a canny baroness with an eye for talent.
As for that copy of "2666," the library hasn't called. Perhaps it's for the best. I'm not sure what I'll do when I get it.
“2666”
Location: Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn St., Chicago. (312) 443-3800 or
goodmantheatre.orgShowtimes: 6:30 p.m. Tuesday to Saturday; 1 p.m. Sunday through March 20Tickets: $25-$53Running time: Five hours, 30 minutes including three intermissionsParking: $22 (with Goodman validation) at the Government Center Self Park at Clark and Lake streetsRating: For mature audiences. Contains adult subject matter and language along with nudity and descriptions of sexual violence.