The history of modernity – the history of America, as most of us learned it or think we learned it – is the story of the “little guy” putting together an idea that shifts the world right off its axis. Something that rocks everybody back on their heels and draws forth an exultant breath. For every one of those stories that’s 75% or more true, there’s another story where that little guy gets crushed in the gears of the machine, gets ground down by someone luckier or richer or more tenacious or more bloodthirsty, or some combination of those things.
It’s to Aaron Sorkin’s credit that his The Farnsworth Invention tries to be a corrective to that kind of fairytale – a story that wants us to root for the low man on the totem pole even as it acknowledges right up front that the “hero”‘s house is going to be burned down, and that what paves the way for greatness paves the way for even greater regret. It follows two narrators, David Sarnoff (Ian Short) and Philo T. Farnsworth (Stefan Langer), who are also its main characters. While the action tells the story of one man’s life, the other man comments on it – frequently to hilarious effect as the two stop each other, continue, quibble about points of fact or intent, and humanize the story with an economy of language, making exposition feel less like an info-dump and more like a conversation, something the play as a whole needed more of.
The play covers 1921 (when Farnsworth first explained his concept of television to his schoolteacher) through 1937 (when the patent interference lawsuits were decided) over three locations with brief flashes back and forward and at least 36 speaking parts spread out over 15 actors – only Langer and Short don’t do at least triple duty. This ambition is a mixed blessing. The grand scope is awe-inspiring, but too often the play feels overstuffed one moment and like a sketch the next. It breezes through a rich, complicated period in history with a “just the facts” attitude leavened with too many speeches and not enough of the wit or charm of Sorkin’s best work. The nadir is, unfortunately, a muddled attempt at as much of a happy ending as he could wring out of this material, with a pair of bizarre fantasies that pull what punch the play has, provide some unearned catharsis, and underline the theme so boldly it’s like the audience got hit with a hammer.
The biggest thing that makes this work as well as it does is the impeccable casting of Stefan Langer as Farnsworth and Ian Short as Sarnoff. Short’s voice as introduction sets the tone perfectly: an assured narrator who seems a little smug and a little self-important, but the audience not only doesn’t hate him, and frequently we’re in his corner. Short’s Sarnoff is one of his most nuanced and gripping portrayals, up there with his John Wilkes Booth in Assassins – someone with regrets but, like most of us, too much work to do to indulge his regrets for too long; charming and sharp-toothed and deadly, with the fast-moving confidence of a man who knows at any moment the world could burn around him and not everyone will survive. The fact that he introduces Farnsworth with a mix of condescension and genuine, earnest, admiration sells the magic of Farnsworth’s intellect in a way having the more “sympathetic” Farnsworth be the audience’s eyes and ears for the whole performance would not. Langer’s Farnworth speaks and moves with a different kind of hard-won confidence, the bumpkin savant, with razor-sharp comic timing, a deep love for and passion for the world (science, his wife, his child) and an emotional glass jaw waiting for a tragic punch to land. Watching these two autodidacts try to tell each other’s story is a joy.
The rest of the cast is almost without exception good. Kate Lingnofski and Christopher Storer both play what feels like myriad key, important roles, most prominently his Vladimir Zworykin, scientist in Sarnoff’s employ, and her Lizette Sarnoff. It feels like one or both of them is always on stage, in different accents and with different mannerisms. While this viewer had a little whiplash occasionally trying to keep who was who straight, I was repeatedly dazzled by how much both these actors did with few lines in each character and few moments to spin and get out of the way of the many gears turning in this play. Attention should also be paid to Robin Rae Stype, who doesn’t have much to do as Farnsworth’s wife but commits to every moment and finds nuance almost out of thin air.
John Dranschak’s direction is very strong. With this many moving parts it would be easy for the play to get bogged down in its own weight of importance and detail, but it feels like a lean two hours and honors the small moments where the real story happens. His focus on these moments of a few characters in a room – whether Sarnoff introducing RCA to the world, Farnsworth being dazzled by his brother-in-law Cliff Gardner’s (a very good Aaron Shatz) self-taught glassblowing, the moment Farnsworth finally sells someone on believing in him, or the aggressive argument between the two leads about desperation – is what keeps interest from flagging. The fact that Dranschak understands this work as both a creation myth and a fable, as well as his trust in the very fine actors he’s assembled, buoys the weaker parts (the Greek chorus, those fantasias mentioned above) and makes those setpieces where Sorkin’s writing is closer to the top of his game shine. This is helped a great deal by Jarod Wilson’s spot-on light and sound design and Jon Baggs’ minimal but effective set design of a series of versatile platforms.
The Farnsworth Invention came into the world a mixed bag. But Gallery Players’ production is a smooth-running machine with lots to recommend for fans of the period being discussed, the actors, or Sorkin’s writing.
For more information, visit www.columbusjcc.org/cultural-arts/gallery-players/.
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