Weekly Planet - MAXWELL Review
© The Weekly Planet
Joe Popp's Maxwell is a mixed bag, a rock 'n' roll musical that never entirely rises
above its own and its performers' limitations to become a satisfying experience.
Yes, Popp's script is impressive, literate and often witty; but the show's music
is seldom memorable, few of the performers' voices are of notable quality in any
case, and the Jobsite Theater production itself, though highly energetic, is
generally graceless. It's good to see Popp's work again, and to be reminded of
his considerable talent. But he is not well served by the raucously unconvincing
production currently at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center.
The story Maxwell tells is relatively simple. It begins with Joseph Maxwell's
birth and his first word: "correlation." As a schoolboy with an IQ of 249, he
wins every award imaginable and is sent off to Cambridge U to study under
physicist Stephen Hawking. While there, he strives to make a machine that
will cure all ills and do all of humankind's work: "I am going to take hard
work and hypocrisy out of the equation. No one will have to toil for pennies.
No one will have to be in a wheelchair with squeaky wheels. No one will have
to kill strangers."
Finally, the self-reproducing machine, designed to look like Maxwell's dead father,
is up and running: "The human race is now free to do what it wants to without the
toiling and labor that crushes most men's spirits." One of its first accomplishments
is the curing of Hawking's disability; Maxwell's machines then go on to cure the sick,
relieve third world countries of poverty and spread global peace. But humans begin to
find that without work and adversity, they lose all sense of purpose and value. Finally,
someone decides to destroy all the Maxwell machines. ...
It's a story with flaws. Maybe humans do need work of some sort in order to feel useful;
but it's not at all credible that, as Popp seems to suggest, they need, and would choose,
poverty and disease also. ("It seems his disability was the very thing that made him strive
for higher achievements," says a character about Hawking.) Further, Popp's narrative doesn't
allow for characters -- rock musician/playwrights, for example -- who simply wouldn't use the
Maxwell machine, who would continue at their trade or art in spite of the machine's availability.
Of course it's possible to ignore these logical defects and just enjoy the show's sound and fury;
but in a more successful act of theater, such willful ignorance wouldn't be necessary.
Maxwell's music is another problem. I'm a fan of Popp's music in Whirligig and elsewhere,
but I had trouble enjoying the deafening mix of punk, heavy metal and other styles that the
musician composed for this outing. Certainly part of the problem is that few of the show's
performers are gifted singers. The exceptions are Ami Sallee Corley -- a wonderful voice
I'd be willing to hear all evening -- and, at times, Nevada Caldwell. The other vocalists
are adequate, but hardly of musical theater quality.
This type of performance -- adequate but not first-rate -- is also the case where much of
the show's acting is concerned. Best of all are Corley as Maxwell's deep-feeling mother
Louisa, and Jason Evans as Maxwell's mischievous friend Oscar Moretti. But David Jenkins
as Maxwell lacks credibility as a scientist/nerd; Chris Holcom as Hawking is likable
where he should be believable; and Michael McGreevy as Maxwell's father looks young
enough to be his older brother. (The Jobsite tendency to cast young actors almost
exclusively is a potential shortcoming in any production.) Another problem is Brian
Smallheer's dismally drab set, just a few walls and doorways out of the budget bin at
Home Depot. Joy Platt's costumes, though, are intelligently chosen; and R.M. Lawrence's
direction is, if nothing else, kinetic.
To wrap up: flawed though it may be, I still don't think we're seeing Maxwell at its best here.
And as a Joe Popp fan, I think that's a pity.
Embattled 'Bots
BY MARK E. LEIB
published January 17, 2002