We want to imagine the artist as a brooding philosopher, or as an unpredictable genius. Ironically, we also want artists to embody a discerning cruelty through a philosophy of worldly kindness, so that we then can liken their creative output to godliness. In SUDS’ recent adaptation of John Logan’s 2009 play RED, directed by Georgie Eggleton and Nikki Eghlimi, it becomes easier to imagine such characteristics in the life and work of Mark Rothko when the lights are low and the set is beautifully done. In idealised imaginings of artists (even the ones that appear messy), we must be careful of how mythology distorts and simplifies the past, how it elevates the individual beyond context. For snobs, this play comes across as naive, but for the casual viewer, there are interesting elements to the play that are worthy of dissection.
The play takes place in 1958, when Rothko was commissioned to create a series of paintings for the luxurious Four Seasons restaurant inside the Seagram Building in New York. Rothko accepted a commission of $35,000 (around $550,000 AUD today), creating a series of large murals to decorate the restaurant’s walls. As dramatised in the play, the opulence of the dining room disgusted Rothko, sitting at odds with how he wanted his works to be seen. Eventually he pulled out of the commission,cementing his identity as a forlorn anti-capitalist in the growing commodification of art. Despite being one of the most famous stories to come out of the art world, the play only loosely uses these events to explore the practice and character of Rothko (Harrison Walker) and his art assistant, Ken (Sophie Newby).
For the uninitiated, it provides a good explanation into why Rothko’s works persist, exploring the philosophy he applied to painting and colour. At times these explanations are forcefully done — feeling much more like wordy attempts to justify their significance when in the play we see it for ourselves.
Some of the most stand out moments came from the play’s consideration of lighting (Evan Burke and Ruby Hawken). Where Rothko believed placing his works in bright gallery light made them vulnerable, it was literally shown how vastly different they looked in these conditions when mid-play the house lights turn on and, wincing through the change, the paintings feel naked. It furthered the narrative of the play by bringing us closer to the actual works of Rothko. With live painting in the show and decent Rothko reproductions (set by Katarina Butler, Edward Clifford and Aidan Hale; art consultant Eduardo Forcadilla), the art aspect of the show was fantastic, and the considerations of how we psychically view works — an integral but often overlooked aspect of the art experience — did not go unnoticed.
The written characters of Rothko and Ken would have benefitted from some of this subtlety. Rothko is portrayed as a caricature of the great American, testosterone filled artist of the 50s, manic and supposedly hyper-intelligent, his dialogue spewing the names of great philosophers and beautiful places that are supposed to be important but never spoken of more than in passing. I’m reminded of conceptual artist Chris Burden’s 1976 TV commercial, where two times over he repeats: “Leonardo Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Chris Burn”. Lines from the play follow Burden’s techniques of legitimation but lack any of the humour that made it interesting. While Walker’s performance pokes fun at it in the play, it is never truly convincing that any of these ideas matter. By the end of the play, Rothko’s character is only ever shown as a shouty alcoholic who is meant to be a genius: while seeing the actors put in the work of painting on stage reinforced that, the script ultimately failed to follow through. This pedestal that Rothko is placed upon, ironically, creates a hollow character that is vague and occasionally frustrating.
Similarly, Ken, the intended foil, barely had an identity outside of their dead parents. Though the actors had great on stage chemistry, the distant relationship between Rothko and his assistant, was not much of a characterisation more than it did convince me that the same story could have been told as a one man play. Ken is convincingly bright-eyed and naive, however, his tragic backstory felt seriously out of place. This adaptation, though well acted and visually beautiful, does not escape being a shallow interpretation of art in the 50s.
Cautiously, I want to supplement this review by noting that as an arts worker and a self-proclaimed American arts sceptic, that consuming any kind of arts narrative media can be frustrating. I felt watching RED the same way I felt watching (and feeling grossed out by) Velvet Buzzsaw (2019), where my desire to nitpick possessed me, and I could no longer suspend my disbelief. To all my fellow sceptics I’d say: It’s something to take your mum to, and as a play, it does not position itself as historical retelling, but more as an exploration into the philosophy behind Rothko. Again, with such great set design, costuming, and lighting, it’s something to easily consume, if not ignite an interest in how we view art.
