"Death and the Maiden:" Latinamerica comes to Princeton

      At first glance a play about human rights abuse in an unnamed Latinamerican country doesn't seem to be an appealing subject for theatre goers in the protected and prosperous enclave of Princeton. Yet Ariel Dorfman's "Death and the Maiden," received hearty applause when presented December 7,8,13 and 15 at the Lewis Center for the Arts.

      A senior thesis production directed by Alex Ripp, the performance was tecnically well done but left an understandably large gap in view of the distance between the clean and tranquil air of a middle to upper class U.S. college town and the sordid reality of dictatorship, torture, repression and psychological twisting in a far-away underdeveloped country.

      An actor "gets into the skin" of his or her character by diverse techniques, including what is referred to as "emotional memory." What kind of emotional memory could a youthful blond and blue eyed Glenn Brown conjure up to play Gerardo Escobar, a lawyer concerned about human rights and also his own reputation? How could Dominique Salerno as Escobar's wife, Paulina, imagine having been picked up and subject to multiple rape by a special forces squad? How could the young Dan Kublick picture his character, Roberto Miranda, a doctor who participates in torture sessions?

     In view of such a difficult to bridge gap of experiencial knowledge, the actors and director did an admirable job. Acting is a unique art which attempts to bridge gaps of this sort to reveal the naked human being in all of his frailty.

     One likewise must wonder at how the audience could come to terms with the conflicts, circumstances and shadowy zig-zags suggested in the script. Middle class America has for decades proudly declared its faith in democracy and its aversion to dictatorship. What does it know about the feel of things under strong handed regimes? Has it a notion of the process by which dictatorships come to power? The causes and interests that lead to gross violations of the most basic human rights?

    Dorfman's play is situated in what could have been any number of dictatorships in Latinamerica during the 1970's--when anti-communist regimes received more than the applause of Washington: numerous military men were trained in counter-insurgency techniques which included the rough handed treatment of persons detained under suspicion of leftist or revolutionary sympathies.

     However, reducing any situation to black and white necessarily obscures and distorts the more dialectical underlying reality.

     In Dorfman's play Dr. Miranda is presented as the apparent "bad guy." Paulina is convinced that he raped her while she was kidnapped, and so when he appears by chance in the Escobar's home she ties him up and demands he confess his guilt. 

     Everything would appear to indicate that he in fact is to blame for the blatant abuses Paulina accuses him of. Yet Dorfman, a writer with a clear notion of how to thread the yarn of dramatic conflict, sheds his story with a cloud of doubt--a cloud that also covers real life situations.

     At a certain point in the relationship between torturer and the tortured a certain ambiguity appears. Except in the case of extra-ordinary individuals, most people double up under torture and end up confessing what their torturers demand. That is why many question the "efficiency" of torture as a method of questioning. Under certain circumstances also a sort of symbiosis appears between the two parts of the equation.

     That would appear to be the director's intention in the dramatically effective conclusion of the play when he puts Escobar and Paulina. in front of an audience to denounce the crimes committed by Miranda: Perched on a high balcony, the doctor exchanges suggestive glances with Escobar's wife.