If your friend gets a haircut that you find hideous, what do you say when they ask for your opinion? French writer Yasmina Reza’s 1994 play “ART” takes that familiar hypothetical and raises the stakes: If your friend spends 200,000 francs on a painting that you think is crap, how do you respond?
The painting in question is a white canvas featuring abstract lines in off-white shades; depending on which friend you ask, it’s either a masterpiece by a modern genius or just a white rectangle. In Christopher Hampton’s English translation of “ART,” now onstage at Remy Bumppo Theatre Company under the direction of Marti Lyons, the fallout over this seemingly simple disagreement tests the limits of a 15-year-old friendship between Serge (Chad Bay), Marc (Justin Albinder) and Yvan (Eduardo Curley).
On one level, the play probes the questions of what defines art and who determines its value, but it soon becomes apparent that Reza is using this premise as a window into a deeper exploration of friendships: how they evolve as people change over time, the little (or big) lies that friends tell to keep the peace and what truly binds folks together through life’s twists and turns. Though Hampton’s translation is widely understood as a comedy, Reza views the play more as a tragedy, and it certainly has the bones of a drama beneath the sharp dialogue and confessional asides. However, I think Reza’s portrait of a friendship’s dissolution would have a greater impact if she gave these characters more of a backstory before the point of rupture.
When the lights come up on Serge’s home, we immediately get a sense of the man’s tastes and socioeconomic status from Lauren M. Nichols’ chic, monochromatic set design and Kristy Leigh Hall’s sleek costuming choices. A successful mid-career dermatologist, Serge can afford a six-figure piece of art, though perhaps not comfortably. Marc, an aeronautical engineer, seems to be on similar financial footing, but his taste in art couldn’t be more different; he prefers the vivid colors and realism of Flemish-style landscapes and makes no attempt to hide his contempt for Serge’s prized acquisition. Marc thinks Serge has grown pretentious, while Serge prickles at Marc’s perceived condescension, and the conversation quickly sours.
Caught in the middle, Yvan attempts to serve as a peacemaker by telling each friend what they want to hear and never expressing his own opinion. Floundering in his career and stressed about planning his wedding, Yvan’s woes compound when his oldest friends turn their insults on him, calling him a coward, an amoeba and a fan of motel art.
If anyone happened to look over my shoulder on opening night, they would see that my notes read, “How were these three ever friends?” The trio seems to have little in common, and the willful misunderstanding and petty tone-policing by Serge and Marc are relentless. A moment after I jotted down this question, almost as if in response, Marc said, “Suddenly, I can’t understand what binds me to Yvan,” and Serge wondered aloud what binds him to Marc.
Reza never provides a full answer. It’s unclear how these men initially became friends, although there is some explanation of how their dynamics have shifted over time. We get the middle and a tentative end to their story, but not the beginning, which makes it hard to emotionally connect with these characters. There’s also a certain detachment in Bay and Albinder’s performances that makes it hard to picture these characters as buddies.
On the other hand, Reza’s enigmatic approach allows the three men to serve as blank canvases — forgive the pun — onto which viewers can map their own friendships. “Am I Yvan or Marc?,” I wondered as I left the theater. What’s more important in a friendship: uncomfortable honesty or unconditional support? And what’s the elusive glue that bonds longtime friends who have grown in different directions?
In Reza’s view, the secret sauce is certainly not having the right opinion about a piece of art. “Nothing great or beautiful in this world has ever been born of rational argument,” Yvan concludes in his final aside to the audience. Without succumbing to a sappy ending, Reza makes a strong case for valuing relationships over intellectual homogeneity — an outlook that can feel either naïve or hopeful in polarizing times. It all depends on how you look at the canvas.
Emily McClanathan is a freelance critic.
Review: “ART” (3 stars)
When: Through June 1
Where: Theater Wit, 1229 W. Belmont Ave.
Running time: 1 hour, 20 minutes
Tickets: $15-$55 at remybumppo.org
