Sympathy For the Devil

I'm not talking Mick and Keith, but rather the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey's wickedly entertaining revival of George Bernard Shaw's first commercial success, 1897's The Devil's Disciple.

Set in the thick of the Revolutionary War, 1777, when colonists and loyalists each considered the other in cahoots with the devil, Shaw’s devilishly clever play pokes fun at all manner of hokum, religious as well as political.

Director Paul Mullins vacuums away any mustiness in the script by honing all its ironies and sarcasms to what used to be called "a fare thee well."

The cast, as we’ve come to expect from STNJ, is terrific, and includes a memorably selfless performance in Act One by Cynthia Mace.

Selfless?

Yes, she so totally becomes the hateful, hypocritical hag Anne Dudgeon, denigrating helpless young Essie, that you want to boo her as if she were Snidely Whiplash tying Little Nell to the railroad tracks.

James Knight, young and handsome, plays Anne’s spurned son, the dashing Dick Dudgeon, with enough 21st Century hipness and panache to reduce the yawning gap between 1777 and today to barely a wrinkle in time.

For the audience, there are no yawning gaps. The pace is quick, the characters are clearly etched (though the plot turns on a piece of mistaken identity) and the dialogue is mined with zingers like "Martyrdom is the only way a person can become famous without ability.” 

That line is uttered acidly by Britain’s General Burgoyne as played by the terrific Edmund Genest, a master of crisp insouciance, as anyone who saw STNJ’s production of Pinter’s No Man’s Land a few years back can attest.

The last performance is this Sunday, July 27. If you miss it, maybe Snidely Whiplash should strap you to the railroad tracks.

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