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Silent films played on a loop as a whimsical piano score filled the small Pear Theatre with vintage charm.The detailed set displayed before the show featuring an old piano, fully stocked makeup kits, and even fresh bread transformed the immersive venue into a 1950s movie set, with hardly a hair out of place. Before the show even began, an unwavering commitment to bringing this era to life was evident.
The Pear Theatre’s latest production, “Chaplin and Keaton on the Set of Limelight,” is a two-hour rumination on the purpose and function of the arts in a politically tense society, told through the interactions between silent film superstars Charlie Chaplin (David Scott) and Buster Keaton (David Boyll) on the set of one of Chaplin’s last movies, “Limelight,” in 1951. The film comes at different moments for Chaplin and Keaton in their careers — Chaplin is a household name, but is under constant scrutiny over his political affiliations as McCarthyism reaches its zenith, while Keaton has fallen from grace and worked in obscurity for the previous two decades. The play imagines the unlikely reunion of the duo and their conversations on set.
Through these conversations, playwright Greg Lam masterfully asks contemporary and pressing questions about the purpose of the arts. Chaplin and Keaton are at odds about their perspectives on cinema; while Chaplin believes that it is the role of artists to talk about societal ills and inspire their audiences to think critically about the world and its institutions, Keaton argues that he and Chaplin are comedians, and it is their job to provide the world an escape from the ills of reality and entertain their audiences, not bring the world’s evils into their work. This tension plays out throughout the play, coming to a head in the riveting second half where the two have a lengthy and brilliantly written argument after filming finishes.
Through these fictionalized vignettes from the 1950s, Lam is able to ask us what art means to us today, and what artists should be doing with their craft. In the face of catastrophe, must artists speak up? Or should they instead provide us with neutrality and relief from the chaos of our world? As online arguments over the participation of celebrities in activism rage, an unprecedented election looms, and violence continues all over the world, these questions feel as relevant today as they did to Chaplin and Keaton in 1951.
Much of the power of this production comes from the script, beautifully crafted with the right blend of tension and release. I laughed as much as I was sobered into silence, and I was inspired as much as I reflected sadly about the state of the world and its artists. Cheeky disses aimed at the world of theater and impeccable use of dramatic irony lightened scenes that otherwise may have fallen too serious, a fabulous contrast to the intensity of some of Keaton and Chaplin’s exchanges.
While I found the script to be inspiring however, I was left wanting a bit more from the actors themselves. Scott, who played Chaplin, was excellent, and stood out to me among the cast in the ways in which he embodied his character and all of the complexities and tensions within Chaplin — his affairs with young women, his fall from grace after “talkies” replaced silent films, his political persecution, and his childlike tenderness. The rest of the characters however felt a bit like they came right off “Limelight” themselves, a tad too over-the-top, scripted, and animated for my liking. Many of their deliveries felt straight out of the film world of the 1950s, rather than indicative of the lives of actors offstage during that era.
While the commitment to the vintage feel of the entire show was impressive, I found some of the dialogue less believable because of this, seeming unnatural and very obviously scripted at times rather than natural, human, and intimate, as dressing-room conversations tend to be. Similarly, the flowery fonts and faux-static that played on the projector scene to notify the audience of scene changes felt almost like they were trying too hard to fit within the play’s era — a simpler set of projections or even a pause might have worked better.
The most intriguing thing about the production to me was the inclusion of a young Chaplin (Johnny Villar), Keaton (Anthony Castillon), and an unnamed girl (Skylar Rose Adams) that acted almost entirely in silence between (and occasionally during) scenes featuring the lead actors. These characters not only paid homage to the genre of silent film and the power of non-verbal storytelling, but acted as storytellers that tied the play’s vignettes together while also grounding them in the characters’ pasts. This play with time, allowing versions of Chaplin and Keaton 30 years apart in age to coexist on stage, was fascinating to me, and added depth and intrigue to the telling of this story.
I found “Chaplin and Keaton” to be inspiring and moving, despite its shortcomings on the acting front, and a poignant play for us to think about our present. It is funny, it is deep, and it feels relevant today. After all, now more than ever, what can artists afford to say? And yet what must they say?
Thursday, July 11 and 18 at 7:30 pm; Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m.; Sundays at 2 p.m. through July 21 at The Pear Theatre, 1110 La Avenida St., Suite A, Mountain View. General admission is $40, $38 for students and seniors. Go to thepear.org.
