[JohnPattillo]

My wife and I recently took a driving vacation through upstate Michigan. Planning the trip, I came by chance across the fact that The Night of January 16^th was going to be performed by the Avon Players of Rochester at their theater outside of Detroit. It synched perfectly with our trip so we went.

Sad to say, the performance was not good, in just about every way. Rand’s careful balancing of the two senses of life as projected through the dialogue, the actions and the characters of the various participants was mangled. But I want to comment on one item that was very dramatic. Perhaps due to space limitations, or due to Covid concerns, the jury was not on the stage as stipulated in the play’s directions by Ayn Rand. They were selected, but remained in their ticketed theater seats, and the play proceeded. As the final sequence of repetitions of testimony was broadcast throughout the hall, the jurors were unobtrusively polled. Then, the time having come to announce the verdict, the clerk came downstage and asked the jurors to stand.

The twelve stood. Karen Andre walked to the front of the apron facing the jurors who were spread throughout the audience. So, she was not only facing them but all of us as well. And suddenly, for that one moment, the magic of theater came into existence. It was one of those moments that somehow stands outside of time. A striking woman, of a certain character, accused of a capital crime, standing erect, was facing not just twelve, but all of us, it seemed perhaps the whole world.

The clerk asked the jury foreman to announce their verdict.

I found myself holding my breath with unexpected tension.

When the forewoman said “Not guilty,” there was much applause.

I have not seen other performances, but I think a director might want to consider the way this was done, having her face all of us, not just twelve people on the stage. It was hugely dramatic.

*sb

[Author]

Posts