The Emperor of the Moon

The Emperor of the Moon

On the night of the lunar eclipse, with overcast sky and rainy conditions, I found myself experiencing the closest thing to cosmic entertainment: The Emperor of the Moon by arts collective the Bedlam Faction. The 17th-century play by Aphra Behn, a woman breaking convention as a professional playwright during less opportune times, has been resurrected with modern musical numbers, exciting characters, and funny action fight scenes in a sci-fi, Restoration-influenced farce. The story concerns Dr. Balliardo, a royal scientist with a penchant for astronomical phenomena, especially the moon and its phantom inhabitants. His daughter and niece are in love with two gentlemen who, with the help of a harlequin and a valet, stage an otherworldly spectacle to trick the naive doctor into believing that the suitors are emissaries of the moon who wish to marry his kin. With his telescopic obsessions and admirations, Dr. Balliardo is all too happy to oblige.

Although the opening song and dance start off raw and awkward, the performers' aptitude with text and speed moves the show along at a pleasant pace with humor. Robert Matney's Dr. Balliardo is amusing, and Robert Stevens, as his servant, uses a comedic stereotype worth noting. Kate Caldwell as daughter Elaria exemplifies the forgiving clumsiness of a teenager in love, and Rebecca Nell Robertson is her sophisticated, graceful cousin. The dress of the entire ensemble is eccentric, ranging in style from 1920s lace and frill to pulp fantasy to 1960s television robot and gadget gear to sexy Manhattan hipster. In fact, there are a handful of designers displaying their inventions in this production, which at times is an overload of signatures but ultimately not a nuisance. The set is painted with a childlike vibrancy, complete with a smiling moon and a garden fountain, hinting at the Italian countryside. The largest prop is the doctor's telescope, built crudely with what looks like cardboard spray-painted in gold and screwed onto a wooden base. It works just fine. Robert Dieke and Andy Bond as the physically elastic Harlequin keep the energy rolling with nicely coordinated action sequences. These dueling characters are battling for the love of Mopsophil, played by Kim Nagy, who has a slight resemblance to Broadway's Bernadette Peters in pitch and flightiness. The chorus is sometimes wobbly but overall successful in their many stunts, such as portraying the zodiac and the natural elements of Earth in dance or creating a tapestry of bodies in stillness.

If there is one good reason to see live theatre, it is to be entertained without the trappings of high art discriminating against those with a distaste for the pretentious and preachy. The Emperor of the Moon is edgy enough for the wilder bunch and tame enough for conventional crowds. I walked out in the foggy night grinning and content, with no political agendas messing up a good time.