SPRINGTIME FOR BROADWAY : 'The Producers,' '42nd Street,' & 'Stones in His Pockets'

Commonweal, June 15, 2001 by Celia Wren

You get a more profound, and depressing, insight into the metamusical phenomenon if you turn to Stones in His Pockets, a work that actually has nothing to do with musicals. Marie Jones's play contains neither tunes nor tune-related narrative, but it makes a sweeping critique of our addiction to entertainment in general--and it might as well be commenting on the Great White Way. Stones depicts a small Irish town that is invaded by a team of boorish Hollywood filmmakers. As the shooting progresses, the town's residents give themselves over to vicarious glamour, competing for work as extras and ogling the stars, apparently indifferent to the film's ersatz Celtic aesthetic ("He didn't like the cows; he said they don't look Irish enough," one local marvels after overhearing a comment by the director).

In Ian McElhinney's production, which originated in Belfast and subsequently became the toast of London, virtuoso actors Sean Campion and Conleth Hill play fifteen characters, including an officious, mincing, female assistant director (Campion, brushing imaginary tresses from his shoulder) and the screen siren Caroline (Hill, perpetually twisting an imaginary earring). With apparent effortlessness, the duo juggle voices and mannerisms, conjuring up a bustling world without the aid of set or costume changes and lending intensity to a script that can be distressingly slack (lopping off a third of the show's two and one-half hour length would greatly improve it).

Despite the often hilarious impersonations, Stones in His Pockets broadcasts a rather grim message: We succumb to pop culture--and narratives about the creation of pop culture--out of desperation. Jones's characters fixate on the movie set because the filmmakers seem to be doing something rewarding and meaningful--it's a way for the townspeople to distract themselves from the emptiness of their lives. One man who fails to talk his way onto the set, in fact goes on to commit suicide.

The modern world has placed so much emphasis on diversion, the play suggests, that entertainment has become a substitute for meaning. Stories about the making of entertainment (musicals, for example) have become mythic, but also addictive. It's not an idea you can take 100 percent seriously, or it would be impossible to get up in the morning, but it's something to think about while standing in line for The Producers.