By Harry Forbes
To cut to the chase, Sarah Snook -- known best globally for her role as Shiv Roy in HBO’s “Succession” -- is absolutely stupendous in this riveting adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s 1891 work, his only novel.
Though technically a one-person show, the Australian actress brings to life 26 diverse characters by dint of her virtuosic acting skills and an astonishing video component that allows her to interact seamlessly with the myriad versions of herself on the LED video screens which float over the stage. The precision of it all is quite astounding. If you were blown away by the use of projections and roving cameras in Jamie Lloyd’s current revival of “Sunset Boulevard,” writer/director Kip Williams' work here goes several steps further.
Even Snooks’ mobile phone comes into play in a most creative, dextrous way, though the device was the cause of the one (brief) technical snafu of the evening at my performance.
Williams’ production was first mounted to acclaim by Sydney Theatre Company in 2010, and Snooks assumed the role in London where she won the Best Actress Olivier Award.
Marg Horwell’s scenic and costume designs were also so honored, and -- coupled with David Bergman’s video design -- are simply dazzling. Williams’s direction keeps things going at a feverish, suspenseful pace that is nothing short of thrilling. Clemence Williams’ propulsive music adds to that excitement, and her sound design is superbly balanced.
But for all the bravura technical effects -- and one does really focus on the screens more than the live actress underneath -- what really hooks you is Snooks’ mesmerizing storytelling technique, for this is narrative theater at its most accomplished. Even without the costume and wig changes, her facility at changing her voice and her persona from character to character is astonishing. Besides the foppish Gray (bedecked with a wispy blond wig (one that reminded me of the child actor Steven Warner in “The Little Prince” movie of eons ago), she conjures the decadent Lord Henry Wotton and the effete artist Basil Hallward, and a host of others, male and female.
And, of course, Wilde’s tale of the beautiful young man whose increasingly dissipated and immoral behavior is reflected in the painting he keeps hidden in a locked room, while he himself retains his youthful beauty, is so beautifully adapted by Willaims and compulsively gripping that the dramatization registers with a rare intensity.
Williams directs with a humorously sardonic approach (reflected in Snooks’ often playful asides), and there are some occasional meta interjections, including concerning the video technique, and there’s one rather startling use of a Broadway musical song which I won’t spoil here which buffs will pick up on, but the themes of the story are related with appropriate gravitas right up to its devastating conclusion.
Snook is not alone on stage but aided by an unobtrusive crew of camera operators in black who manipulate the props and the cameras. They deservedly share the bows with her at the end.
(The Music Box, 239 West 45th Street; doriangrayplay.com; through June 29)
Photo by Marc Brenner: Sarah Snook