by Scott Renshaw
The first thing you'll notice as you enter the theater for TheatreWorks' production of "Voir Dire" is Andrea Bechert's set, a stark gray jury room against staggered backdrops of red brick. It feels like something out of the 1950s, restrictive and familiar; not coincidentally, the play itself has a similar atmosphere. The topicality of the subject matter aside, "Voir Dire" is a play that revisits the interpersonal dynamics of "Twelve Angry Men" and features many of the same dramatic stumbling blocks. "Voir Dire" is the story of six jurors assigned to a controversial criminal misdemeanor case in New York. A prominent black educator has been charged with possession of crack cocaine, with the defense countering that the evidence was planted by racist police officers.
The play begins with the trial already concluded and the jurors beginning deliberations from radically different perspectives. Michael (Ben Cleveland), the only male juror, is convinced that the evidence points to conviction, as is recently transplanted Midwesterner Faith (Tanya Shaffer). Debra (Eloise B. Chitman), a black counselor, is suspicious of the police, however, and finds an ally in liberal-minded Gloria (Amy Resnick). The group appears to reach an impasse, but the judge is unwilling to accept a hung jury and sequesters the six jurors. Forced to come to some sort of decision, the jurors all struggle with issues that are never as easy as they seem.
To head off an obvious question, "Voir Dire" was written before a certain infamous trial involving a white Bronco and a bloody glove, but it is impossible to watch the play without thinking about the O.J. Simpson verdict. Playwright Joe Sutton's text takes on the issues of jury objectivity, jury nullification and racial inequities in the criminal justice system, all of which have a familiar ring after more than two years of Simpson coverage. Though Sutton's sympathies seem to lie with his more liberal characters, he does not allow "Voir Dire" to turn into a one-sided sermon on institutional racism, instead providing a balanced and thorough examination of complex matters.
That may make "Voir Dire" fairly successful as socio-political education, but it is less successful as human drama. The common pitfall of courtroom dramas is a tendency to turn characters into types, mouthpieces for a point of view exchanging speeches rather than interacting as people. It is in this way that "Voir Dire" most closely resembles "Twelve Angry Men," even though the moral landscape is more uneven. There are a few small moments in the jurors' hotel rooms that serve as an attempt to flesh them out, but as soon as they step back into the jury room they resume a choreographed exchange of opposing viewpoints that seem better suited for "Nightline" than a theater stage.
The actors, to their credit, do a lot to give the underdeveloped characters some spark. Amy Resnick is funny and ferocious as the streetwise young woman who struggles with her conscience, while Ben Cleveland humanizes a "token white guy" role more than the part may deserve. Ironically, it may be one of the least talkative characters who emerges as the most fully realized: Isobel (Janis Bergmann), a self-absorbed businesswoman whose refusal to introspect about the case in any way is as disturbing as any of the arguments in "Voir Dire."
"Voir Dire's" sound design, by Aodh Og O Tuama, is one of the show's highlights, an almost subliminal underscore of traffic noise and sirens that allows the paranoia of city living to bubble up around the edges of the play. Director Amy Gonzalez might have been able to use that fear to make the characters more frightened and confused than strident, but I'm not sure Sutton has given her enough material to work with. It is noteworthy that we never once see the defendant in the case, the human face behind all the shouting in "Voir Dire." It is a play that offers a lot to think about, but not enough to care about.
What: TheatreWorks' production of "Voir Dire," nominated in 1995 for Best New Play by the American Theatre Critics Association
When: Through Sunday, Jan 26, Tuesdays through Sundays
Where: Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts, Castro and Mercy streets
Cost: $20-$28, $16 for youth and senior except for Friday and Saturday night performances
Information: 903-6000
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