Though I've passed through many phases which could politely be attributed to a penchant for "wretched excess," there have also been periods in my life wherein I've come to appreciate the wisdom of the KISS principle. In its various forms, the acronym has stood for "Keep it simple, son," "Keep it simple, sweetheart," and, of course, "Keep it simple, stupid!"
As I've gotten more deeply in touch with what it means to be an introvert, I've also learned how being subjected to less noise in a crowded environment (especially restaurants) can be appealing, how less gore in a movie can heighten suspense, and how fewer explosions in a film can give greater meaning to one shockingly strategic detonation. When James Cameron's blockbuster, Titanic, was released in 1997, I was stunned to see an unusually calm friend of mine torn apart by the realization that there was no way for people trapped on board the Titanic to escape the rising waters within the ship's hull.
These days, it's common to hear people talk about "unplugging" for 24 hours as a tool for relaxation, mindfulness, and stress relief. As one explores various definitions on the vocabulary.com website, one learns that "severity" can refer to "a plain, no-frills hardness," while "austerity" can mean "a simple, plain manner or extreme frugality." While the use of minimalism in music by such composers as Philip Glass may focus on the repetition of certain notes and phrases, successfully framing various genres of dramatic and cinematic art can depend on an ability to tame one's artistic demons. There are plenty of instances in which a low-key performance can have greater and more sustained impact on an audience than two hours filled with grandiose gestures and unnecessary shouting.
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One of the more intriguing films being screened at the 2019 San Francisco International Film Festival is Michael Tyburski's low-key sci-fi feature which stars Peter Sarsgaard in one of the most underplayed roles audiences are likely to witness for a long, long time. In The Sound of Silence, Sarsgaard portrays Peter Lucian, an "apartment/house tuner" in New York City whose professional toolbox includes three tuning forks and an extremely sensitive set of ears.Regarded by some clients as a godsend (and by numerous scientists as a quack), Lucian specializes in the audio equivalent of feng shui. By listening to and carefully analyzing the soundscape in a person's apartment, he claims to be able to pinpoint certain appliances and/or other objects which may be vibrating along a stressful harmonic. Sometimes the solution to a client's problem is simply replacing their toaster with a newer and better designed model. In other situations, more drastic changes in a person's living environment may be suggested.
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| Peter Sarsgaard stars as apartment tuner Peter Lucian in Michael Tyburski's new film, The Sound of Silence |
Tyburski's full-length adaptation of his short film, Palimpsest (which received a Special Jury Prize at the 2013 Sundance Film Festival), The Sound of Silence focuses on Lucian's attempt to help a female client (Rashida Jones) who is suffering from chronic exhaustion. It's a fascinating feature-length debut for a filmmaker whose challenge is to (a) make the audience believe in Lucian's purported skills, and (b) demonstrate how barely discernible noises not only have signatures, but can contribute to problems haunting the environment in which a person resides. That Tyburski succeeds as well as he does is a testament to his research, framing, and willingness to use less to achieve more.
The following interview with Sarsgaard and Tyburski (recorded just before the film's world premiere at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival) delivers some keen insights into how they were inspired by early sound films found in an archive as well as the technical assistance they received from Dolby Laboratories.
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Many years ago, my friend Marvin Feldman told me about a truly disappointing date. Although the man he met was extremely hot and handsome, as Marvin left his date's apartment, he looked the guy right in the eye and said "You didn't fool me by spitting on my back just because you felt you had to fake an orgasm!"  |
| John Fisher (Sidney Bruhl), Desiree Rogers (Myra Bruhl) and Jake Soss (Clifford Anderson) in a scene from Deathtrap (Photo by: David Wilson) |
If you've never been subjected to the kind of wretched overacting in which an undisciplined actor pummels the script with the force of a sledgehammer (leaving no pause unburned while struggling to justify two hours of shameless mugging), you might want to check out the production of Ira Levin's witty and well-crafted 1978 thriller, Deathtrap, currently being staged by Theatre Rhinoceros. In his portrayal of playwright Sidney Bruhl on opening night, the company's artistic director, John Fisher, gave a master class in the kind of performance one might expect from a fifth grader whose doting parents were seated in the first row.
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| John Fisher (Sidney Bruhl), Anne Hallinan (Helga Ten Dorp), and Desiree Rogers (Myra Bruhl) in a scene from Deathtrap (Photo by: David Wilson) |
Despite the fact that no one was standing in the back of the auditorium yelling "Sing out, Louise!" Fisher insisted on delivering his lines in the tiny Gateway Theatre at full volume rather than merely speaking them. Following in his excruciatingly misguided footsteps were Jake Soss as Clifford Anderson (Bruhl's eager beaver former student, lover, and accomplice -- a man with the fastest two-finger hunt-and-peck typing technique I've ever seen onstage) and Anne Hallinan as Helga Ten Dorp, the famous thickly-accented psychic who recently arrived on the scene. Others in this unfortunate cast included Desiree Rogers as Bruhl's wealthy wife and Randy Soloman as the playwright's attorney, Porter Milgrim. In his co-director's note, Jerry Metzker writes:
"Ira Levin was not gay, or if he was, he never shared that he was. His novels and plays focus on a variety of subjects, but primarily feature heterosexual couples, albeit twisted ones. In several instances, he focused on other things within the broader scope of domestic dysfunction of married couples. This carries over into his play, Deathtrap. This is not a whodunit, but rather a who-is-going-to-do-what-to-whom-and-WHEN?"
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| Randy Soloman (Porter Migrim) and Anne Hallinan (Helga Ten Dorp) in a scene from Deathtrap (Photo by: David Wilson) |
"The play opens on a scene of financial uncertainty with a married couple that seem almost immediately to be plotting against an invited guest. But this isn't the only couple in the play. Without giving too much of it away, there is some talk of the targeted victim's sexuality, that he might or might not be gay. The play is set, after all, in 1978, the year of the Pride flag, Anita Bryant's crusade, and the murders of Harvey Milk and George Moscone. It was a challenging but exciting time for the queer community. It was also a time of sexual revolution. Heterosexual divorce rates increased substantially from 1970 to 1980. Some of the people divorced to pursue homosexual liaisons and relationships. Without giving away too much, Deathtrap lies in the thick of all of this."
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| John Fisher (Sidney Bruhl) and Jake Soss (Clifford Anderson) in a scene from Deathtrap (Photo by: David Wilson) |
Although Gilbert Johnson's unit set includes enough shotguns, revolvers, crossbows, pistols, daggers, maces, Harry Houdini's handcuffs, and other torture devices that might prevent Fisher from devouring the scenery, the end result is like watching a Victorian villain in a Penny Dreadful attempting to sing Ado Annie's "I Cain't Say No" while twirling his mustache. Sadly, the two most valuable tools of restraint missing from Johnson's set are a straitjacket and a veterinarian's cone of shame.
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| Jake Soss as Clifford Anderson in Deathtrap (Photo by: David Wilson) |
Performances of Deathtrap continue through April 14 at the Gateway Theater (click here for tickets).
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