The Red Devil Battery Sign

By GREG EVANS

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A WPA Theater presentation of a play in two acts by Tennessee Williams. Directed by Michael Wilson.
 
Cast: Stephen Mendillo (Griffin), Frederick Neumann (Judge Collister), Elizabeth Ashley (Woman Downtown), Angelica Torn (Hooker), Timothy Leigh Williams (Drunk), William Devine (Charlie), Timothy Warmen (Crewcut), James Victor (King Del Rey), Annette Cardona (Perla).
 

The much-abused reputation of Tennessee Williams' late plays won't be redeemed by the WPA Theater's revival of "The Red Devil Battery Sign." A tale of paranoia and intrigue in the aftermath of the JFK assassination, the 1973 "Devil" is itself a paranoid melange of apocalyptic nightmare and fluttery panic , as if Blanche DuBois had been plunked into the latest Oliver Stone film.

With its shock value all but evaporated (conspiracy theories aren't what they used to be), "Devil" is left with a depressing barrage of unintended self-parody. The requisite faded Southern belle lounges around in a black slip, repeatedly mentioning that the French name for her perfume translates into "Night Flight." One almost expects her to add Blanche's, "You can remember it that way, if you care to." Williams had adopted a less lyrical approach to dialogue in keeping with the more overtly political and modern tone of his play, making the occasional Southern Gothic flourish seem nothing but silly: "I hear the comforting sounds of its descent," says the nervous belle as her pursuers retreat in an elevator. And did anyone really use the word "freaked" in 1963?

The heroine of "Devil" is identified only as "Woman Downtown" (Elizabeth Ashley), a Martha Mitchell-type dame who, because of her affair with a local politico, knows more than she should about the events in Dallas that November. Possessing incriminating documents, Woman Downtown is being guarded or watched, more accurately by seemingly everyone, from shadowy spies to the hotel bartender.

At the hotel bar one night, she finds her cleft in the rock of the world: King Del Rey (James Victor), the house mariachi singer. The married King becomes her lover, confidant and not-very-effective protector. "Love is not an accident, " Woman tells King. "It seems more like an act of God to me."

Although few details are provided about the conspiracy itself it involves the multinational Red Devil Battery corporation the plot has more holes than any magic bullet could make. Things end badly, of course, with Woman Downtown intoning what seems to be the play's sole message: "Nobody knows nothin'." Director Michael Wilson's overuse of stage fog, back-lit silhouettes and video monitors only adds to the B-movie drivel, and try as she might, Ashley can't turn Woman Downtown into anything but a mouthpiece for Williams' paranoid obsessions. Even so, the actress has an undeniable stage presence that pretty much blows the rest of the cast away.

Set, Jeff Cowie; costumes, David C. Woolard; lighting, Michael Lincoln; sound, music, John Gromada; video, Batwin & Robin Prods.; production stage manager, Lori Lundquist. Artistic director, Kyle Renick. Opened Nov. 13, 1996, at the WPA Theater. Reviewed Nov. 10; 122 seats; $ 35. Running time: 1 HOUR, 55 MIN.