Martin Denton · March 19, 2009

There are many reasons why you should go see Power at Metropolitan Playhouse, but the most important one is that it is darned fine entertainment. Director Mark Harborth and his collaborators at this indispensable East Village institution have taken this little-known play, which was created for the Federal Theater Project back in 1937, and delivered a smart, funny, and fast-paced modern vaudeville that's as earnest, sincere, and utterly relevant as it must have been 70 years ago.

Consider, for example, this exchange, from the middle of Power:

CONSUMER-INVESTOR (eagerly): How much is the dividend going to be, Sam?

INSULL: Well, that depends on how much we make.

CONSUMER-INVESTOR: How do we know how much we make?

INSULL: Why, I write it down in the books.

CONSUMER-INVESTOR: Can anybody look at the books?

INSULL: Oh, no. This is a holding company. We don't have to show our books to anybody.

CONSUMER-INVESTOR: Who decides how we're going to invest our money?

INSULL: I do.

CONSUMER-INVESTOR: Who decides how much your salary's going to be?

INSULL: I do.

CONSUMER-INVESTOR: And who decides if you're going to give yourself a bonus?

INSULL: I do.

AIG, anyone?

Now, let me backtrack a bit and explain that Power, which was written by Arthur Arent, is about electrical power, principally (though it's also about political power—because, hey, what isn't?). Its focus is the Tennessee Valley Authority, one of the New Deal's most important (and controversial) programs, which was designed to bring, among other services, cheap electricity to an impoverished segment of the country running across six Southern states—an area where utility monopolies had previously refused to run power lines because it would have been unprofitable for them to do so. One of the themes running through Power is whether electricity is a commodity or an entitlement—which reminds us, perhaps, of the debate about health care in the early 21st century. (I told you this play is resonant.)

Power is a "Living Newspaper," which means that it's a documentary theatre piece shaped like a variety show or revue. The documentary aspect is very important and worn on the show's sleeve: the script includes dozens of footnotes, pointing to newspaper articles, interviews, and other primary sources for the various incidents and ideas depicted and quoted in the show. Metropolitan Playhouse has thoughtfully reprinted the citations in the program. This isn't impressionistic quasi-journalism a la The Laramie Project; this is the real thing, meticulously referenced.

Do not think, however, that Power is without bias. Far from it: this is propaganda for FDR and the New Deal, right next door to agitprop, no doubt about it. The big utilities are slick and greedy and without regard for their customers or the laws of the land; consumers are regular working stiffs with families to support and simple and steady values. One of the great messages of Power, though, is that even the ordinary Americans who get shafted by monolithic corporations have power in this democracy of ours, if they'll only use it: the most affecting section of the play comes when the citizens of Tennessee and its environs take some outside-the-box actions against the power companies that are attempting to circumvent and/or sabotage the TVA.

If I've made Power sound like a dry or fevered polemic, let me assure you that it's not. Arent makes all of his points with plenty of wit and plenty of charm. The scenes (21 in all) come quick and never last too long; the tone overall is light and folksy without ever feeling cloying or oversimplified. There's lots of vaudevillian style comedy and even a TVA theme song (lyrics provided in the program).

Director Harborth gives the show the breezy but urgent style that it needs, so it feels of its own time and of ours simultaneously. The set, designed by Harborth, includes a stage floor covered with newspapers that literally grounds the piece in its Living Newspaper roots; there's a single curtain hanging at the rear of the stage (bearing a '30s-workers-style banner painted by Pamela Lawton) that is ingeniously used to keep transitions between scenes fast and seamless. Sidney Fortner's costumes are numerous, appropriate, and invaluable in helping us keep track of who's who—which is important, because the hard-working cast of nine are called upon to portray 60 or 70 different characters during the evening. Let me name them now: Eric C. Bailey, Scott Casper, Sidney Fortner, Alfred Gingold, Jenny Greeman, Michael Hardart, Rafael Jordan, Toya Nash, and Jason Szamreta. Their work here is superb, embodying the various archetypes and historical figures with vigor, flair, and good humor.

Get the idea?  Rafael Jordan Photo by Steven Lembark

Can history, economics, and social progress be fun? Maybe not in real life, but the lessons of the past—too readily unlearned, I fear!—can indeed be conveyed with passion, joy, and ready wit. Power proves this, among other things. Metropolitan Playhouse has again unearthed a real treasure from America's theatrical past, one that has great capacity to entertain audiences even as it reminds us of some important truths about our nation that at least some in power apparently keep forgetting.

 
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The congressional controversy over arts funding in the recent stimulus bill has a historic precedent: The Federal Theatre Project. Created as part of the WPA, the project employed out-of-work theater artists during the Great Depression. If the recent funding debate revolved around the legitimacy of art's claim to stimulus dollars, the controversy in the 1930’s more directly questioned artists' patriotism; the Federal Theatre Project was dogged by complaints of un-Americanism throughout its four-year history. Before its demise in 1939, the nationally funded program produced a number of experimental works, among them a series of Living Newspapers, episodic scripts that presented in-depth examinations of contemporary issues. Power, a living newspaper written by Arthur Arent in 1937, tackled the development of electrical power and the ensuing national debate over whether it should be privately or publicly controlled.

 Though still nontraditional in structure, techniques pioneered by Living Newspapers enjoy prominence today. A source of employment for out-of-work journalists who researched each project’s theme as though it were a news article, the writers' findings ultimately formed the script of each production. That playwriting technique now exists in the form of investigative theater, a term popularized by The Civilians, whose interview-based scripts address complicated cultural issues. As a theatrical genre that combines journalism and performance, living newspapers also anticipated the split screen debates of television news programs and the back-and-forth critiques of opposing political blogs; living newspapers featured scenes designed to serve as counterpoints to one another (a meeting of a farming community followed by an electric company meeting) as a means of challenging audiences and keeping them engaged. That begs the question: in an era overfilled with rapid-fire point-counterpoint arguments, can the structure of a living newspaper still prove effective? As revived by the Metropolitan Playhouse, the answer is yes.

 Power’s nine-member ensemble plays a whopping total of 150 roles. Some characters exist in single vignettes, others reappear throughout the production, lending a warm familiarity to the play’s continually changing landscape, which stretches from Hoboken, NJ to the farms of Tennessee. Rafael Jordan leads the cast as an everyman frustrated by the monopoly of private electrical companies and each of the actors demonstrates cool agility as they switch from role to role. Dressed in Sidney Fortner’s period costumes, the actors take on a variety of exaggerated mannerisms and approximated accents. Their portrayals stop short of farce. Look elsewhere for goofily reductive characterizations; Power is an energetic presentation of multiple, contradictory perspectives.

 As if to further emphasize the importance of electricity, lighting designer Maryvel Bergen keeps the intensity bright for most of the production and audiences can see one another across the stage. Under the direction of Mark Harborth, rather than feeling invasive, that creates a communal environment appropriate to the play’s spirit of audience engagement. Harborth, also the set designer, has newspapers plastered across the floor and splashed across the back wall, a simple but powerful reminder that the play imagines itself as a newspaper come to life.

 Despite its inclusion of a wide swath of American voices, Power is as much an editorial as a news report. It’s an appropriate production both for the Metropolitan Playhouse’s seasonal focus on Work in America and also, of course, because of our country’s renewed debate over the role of government in the private sector. Moments of Power are eerily reminiscent not just of our economic crisis but of our heated conversations about how to deal with it. The parallels are powerful.

New Theatre Corps

Reviewed by Amanda Halkiotis

 Metropolitan Theater’s revival of Power earns its title through stylized, humorous vignettes that explore a utility’s growth from modern luxury to an addictive, necessary evil. To those who have had trouble deciphering a ConEdison bill, argued with a new landlord about an accurate meter reading, or even been nagged by to turn out the lights when leaving a room, Power is most certainly on.

 You’ll find your seats to Power by following t he splintered beams of lights cast by the flashlights strewn about the theater. Once seated, artistic director Alex Roe slowly clicks off each flashlight. In complete darkness he asks us to silence all electronic devices. This is the first of many sensory cues that alert and prepare the audience that something is about to happen. It’s a reminder that electricity plays the principle role in Power: it’s not just a technical commodity. Instead, it brings early 20th century to life and takes the audience on a cross-country journey.

When the lights rise in earnest, it’s at a clothing factory in the New York Metro area,1935 in the midst of a blackout. Panicked telephone conversations interweave and interrupt one another, describing buns stuck on a stopped conveyor belt and burning in an oven at a factory bakery, or the heat cut short in an apartment with a sick infant, etc. Despite these crises, in the scenes to follow modern urbanites continue to rely on electricity in their everyday use. The public demand rises so much that the electric company, once a private corporate enterprise, expands into a universal monopoly. Maintaining the latest household trend suddenly grows quite expensive, and the energy-conscious consumer is born. This sets the tone for the rest of the play: the struggle between the penny-pinching everyman and the slicked-back company tycoon.

The visual tone of the play is that of a “living newspaper,” so designer and director Mark Harborth reduces the set to a table and handful of chairs, and plasters newspapers across the stage and walls. Harborth’s use of the open stage also serves to disorient and engage, conjuring the hustle and bustle of the 1930s newsroom. The contrast to all this black-and-white is set by the lighting, designed by Maryvel Bergen. Covered and uncovered, hanging and bolted, bulbs blink from all corners of the stage, offering entrance cues and scene changes. This creates crisp order in a play overflowing with action and dialogue. Adding to these segmented mini-breaks is the soft, nostalgic fade-in music, which adds a sense of relief from all the visual goings-on by appealing to another sense.

Our anchor in the midst of all this action is the single-cast narrator, Michael Hardart. Using a campy tone, he sets the audience at ease and acknowledges his role as an outsider, especially when he calls out “Hey, Valentine!” to the stage manager (Valentine Amartey) asking for lights. This attitude allows him to move beyond the fourth wall without taking advantage of it, and he slides in and out of the play with grace and ease. His costars share a similar comfort jumping in and out of character, especially the three women in the cast (Sidney Fortner, Jenny Greeman, Toya Nash), who transform effortlessly from shrewd housewives managing a domestic budget to a precocious daughter asking her father where electricity comes from. Their acting overcomes the script’s tough-sounding business jargon, and onstage they hold their own with commanding presence, matching the engaging confidence of their male counterparts. When the actresses join them to play men they are just as seamless, coyly trotting offstage in heels and a skirt only to don a tie and sport coat and return in the blink of an eye as an angry stockholder demanding an explanation.

It would be too easy to make a literal allusion of the play’s title to its content, though. Yes, the need for electricity in a time of growing urban sprawl gives the play its spine. However, this play also brings together complex issues of private enterprise versus government control, the state of the public interest in the wake of a corporate monopoly, the say a stakeholder has in the cost of labor production, and even the exact definition of a kilowatt hour, among many others. It’s about a more subtle, individualized sense of power. It questions the level of power tax-paying citizens have in the decisions of their community and the unequivocal distribution of power to them all regardless of regional location or occupation. Skip the daily expense of a Wall Street Journal this week: for roughly the same amount of money, Power will give you a better return on your investment.

Theatre scene

By: Victor Gluck

While the federal government currently deals with the debate over credit reform and health care, the Metropolitan Playhouse has staged the first New York revival of Power, one of the Federal Theater Project’s “Living Newspapers” which asked in 1937 whether electrical power was a private commodity or a public good. Arthur Arent’s play, now 72 years old, still remains exciting, still relevant, even though the debate over electric power is no longer going on. The Metropolitan Playhouse remains faithful to its mission to performs plays from America’s past that help discover “where we come from to better know who we are.”

The original production staged at the Ritz Theatre, now the Walter Kerr, used 50 actors, now financially impossible. Mark Harborth’s production, which uses nine actors to play 150 roles, is clever and inventive and moves swiftly through its 21 sequences. Power was based on months of research by 25 journalists-turned-playwrights. As much vaudeville as a drama, Arent’s text includes material taken from the New York Times, U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, Federal Trade Commission findings, the Congressional Record, U.S. Government Printing Office pamphlets, etc.

Power travels from the corridors of power to the homes of ordinary citizens to bring alive such events as a Newark, New Jersey, power failure that affected one million people to the battle over the creation of the Tennessee Valley Authority. The play not only dramatizes the headline news, but gives the historical background, as well as fictional, personal dramas that make the problem immediate and understandable.

Except for Michael Hardart as the Voice of the Living Newspaper, a kind of narrator/master of ceremonies, the other actors all play multiple roles up to as many as fifteen. As the vignettes often come quite quickly and the appearance of the various members of the cast are often momentary as they change hats, ties or full costumes to portray additional characters, it is difficult to single out the work of any particular actors.

However, it would be accurate to report that all the actors shine at various times in different scenes, from farmers to tycoons, from politicians to inventors, from housewives to investors. The rest of this hard working cast is made up of Eric C. Bailey, Scott Casper, Sidney Fortner, Alfred Gingold, Jenny Greeman, Rafael Jordan, Toya Nash and Jason Szamreta.

Most impressive is the lighting design by Maryvel Bergen which creates the environment for the 21 scenes which take place in various areas of the three-sided stage. The costumes by Fortner take us back to the Great Depression and beyond. Narberth’s unit setting (with Pamela Lawton’s backdrop, a representation of a electric power,) allows for the swiftly flowing production that resembles today’s television news. The musical arrangements which punctuate the scenes are by Rob Kendt.

Billed as a “Thrilling Dramatization of Modern Industry” back in 1937, Arthur Arent’s Power may now be seen as living history as well as a cautionary tale. The Metropolitan Playhouse production directed by Mark Harborth offers an energized cast in an exciting evening that reopens the debate on the private versus public good, a question that has become relevant once again in our own times of economic hardship.

God issued the directive, "Let there be light." He saw that it was good, but by the 1930s, the Federal Theatre Project didn't entirely agree. Power—an FTP play from 1937—argues that the advent of electric light provided yet another opportunity for corporations to disadvantage the citizenry. The FTP's Living Newspaper division assigned 25 researchers to investigate—the result: 21 brisk scenes, compiled by playwright Arthur Arent, that trace the discovery of electricity, its abuse by private companies, and the attempts of the government-controlled Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) to create a more ethical system of electrical supply and distribution.

 Arent defined a Living Newspaper play, somewhat clumsily, as "a dramatization of a problem, composed in greater or lesser extent of many news events, all bearing on the one subject." To ensure that so much information made for engaging theater, Living Newspaper shows such as One-Third of a Nation (about housing) and Spirochete (about syphilis) combined seriousness with spoof. Power's short scenes often resemble vaudeville routines—though few vaudeville routines offer so many facts about corporate malfeasance or bother to define the term "kilowatt-hours."

 With the country once again verging on a depression, the government contemplating semi-socialist interventions, and journalists and actors more underemployed than ever, it would seem a fine time to resurrect Living Newspaper plays. The Metropolitan Playhouse's production, directed by Mark Harborth, supports that notion. Certainly, Harborth might have done more to argue for the script's relevance—creating further analogues between the present and the past—but the action is brisk and the cast enthusiastic. He stages the scenes with minimal fuss, crowding plenty of incident onto the Metropolitan's diminutive stage.

 If the structure and content of the play are somewhat crude, they're also genuinely effective: By Power's close, I wasn't entirely sure what the TVA was, but I knew I supported it enthusiastically. Perhaps President Obama would like to earmark some funds for the renewal of the FTP—I bet they'd write some knockout shows championing his policies. Who's for AIG: A Tragedy, With Bonus Material?