ACHILLES’ HEEL IN ARCADIA

There is a misunderstanding of critics among some circles, a sense that they are all cast in the mold of Ellsworth Toohey, the sniveling, Machiavellian art critic from Ayn Rand’s heavy-handed, objectivist treatise masquerading as a novel, The Fountainhead.

Toohey is a vile creature who resents anyone who displays the talent he lacks and attacks the individuality and genius of the work’s protagonist, Howard Roark, the architect and Übermensch.

Rand was intolerant of criticism and enraged by reviewers who pointed to her two-dimensional characters and blatant symbolism that stalked through her works with the subtlety of Godzilla stomping through Tokyo after a three-day binge.

Ellsworth Toohey was Rand’s ad hominem attack on critics at large, and a gross misrepresentation.

Every theatre I set foot in, I bring with me a desperate hope of being absolutely blinded by the artistry that explodes like a supernova out at me with the opening of the first act curtain.

And yes, I am not often greeted by a supernova, but if I even see a single ember of craft or talent on an otherwise darkened stage, I will fan that ember, stir the spark, and I will try to work it into a flame, because it pains me to write a bad review.

And then I am confronted with the likes of Achilles in Arcadia by Chris Collins at the Skylight Theatre.

Set in a Chinese Restaurant in Arcadia, California, the core conflict is simple and borrowed; The Murder of Gonzago, Hamlet Act 3, Scene 2, “Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king.”

Shakespeare employed 510 words in presenting this elegantly straightforward scene. Collins has buried both Shakespeare’s structural simplicity and linguistic clarity under an excess of verbiage and a clutter of unnecessary and confusing plot elements.

Assuming the functions of Hamlet and Horatio are George (Krit McClean) and Pat (Timothy Willard), two veterans of the Afghanistan conflict, who are shooting an Indie film (“The Mousetrap”) in the family-owned restaurant. You have your pick of Ophelias between Devyn Kohl and Yulia Belyaeva, a dead mother (her ghost has the good sense not to appear on stage), an aunt who provides the sin of Gertrude (Gloria Tsai), and a father/king (Jeff LeBeau).

Toss in an illicit affair, hints of suppressed homosexuality, PTSD, the Byzantium probate process, traditional Chinese dancing, replace the murder in the garden with a ride on a merry-go-round, add a bit of arson, a mysteriously inept sniper, bad plumbing, and call on the trigger happy LAPD to supplant Laertes and you have Achilles in Arcadia.

Collins is adventurous in concept but sadly maladroit in construction. The young cast is not up to the challenge of this work, especially not the lead, McClean, who mumbled inarticulately for the first half of the play. Director Kiff Scholl’s program notes list his long experience working in the theatre. Perhaps too long, as he brings nothing that could salvage this play and imposes a pacing that is comparable to shifting stalagmites on stage while constantly lining up his actors like dominoes for toppling.

All that is offered in this production, on which I can bestow praise, is LeBeau’s effort to infuse believability into a poorly developed character, and Joyce Hutter’s set that brings some color and theatricality into an otherwise drab and tedious evening.

Achilles in Arcadia
Skylight Theatre Company, 1816 ½ N. Vermont Ave
90 minutes, no intermission
Fri and Sat at 8; Sun at 2 (dark August 29-31)
ends on September 21, 2025
for tickets ($15-$25), visit Achilles in Arcadia

for more shows, visit Theatre in LA