Absent Genius

At the top of Carol Triffle's newest piece at Imago, a hilarious story is told, via projection, about an Italian who stole Leonardo da Vinci's masterpiece, the Mona Lisa, from the Louvre in 1911. Years later, the painter is caught in Italy while trying to flog the painting through a local paper's want ads. The most fascinating feature of the story is that during the painting's strange sojourn, people flocked to the Louvre to look upon the empty space where the famed smile once hung. In fact, more people came to look upon the absence of Mona Lisa than ever gathered to acknowledge its presence.

This rich prologue promises to grab us by the lapels and drag us into one of Imago's fantastical fever dreams of absurdism and grotesquery, made even more exciting by inviting us to hitch a ride on da Vinci's coattails. But Triffle's Missing Mona is another disappointment from a company that seems to have lost its way.

Imago's technical genius isn't in question. The team of Triffle and Jerry Mouawad are still the most innovative and sophisticated stage designers in Portland. But the question has become whether their marvelous stagecraft is being applied to worthwhile projects. Certainly, Missing Mona is a stew of substantial scraps. Yet nothing coheres. However cryptic and elliptical da Vinci's notes and designs may appear, they do possess a mathematical imperative to add up.

The best theater creates a tension between the stage and the audience, where productions demand work from us. Many of Imago's pieces have been breathtaking and provocative examples of this: Dead End Ed, O Lost Weekend. But lately the audience seems to have become superfluous to Imago. It feels as if we've wandered uninvited into a private theater of introspection where the performers are slothfully moving toward perfecting detachment. It's the foundation for Theater of Ennui, where we gather to gather a performer's shrugs, mumbles and anemic warblings to construct (should we have the energy) our own rationale for the evening.

Obviously, this is a style choice on Triffle's part, and good luck to her. But what gets lost in this pose of insouciance is the verve and interpretive intelligence that was once Imago's hallmark.

Technically, Missing Mona is superb. In fact, the exceptional use of film (by the unmissing Mona Huneidi), projected sub- and sur-titles, and scenic elements would make this a treat to those souls fortunate enough to be deaf. As George Bernard Shaw said of Times Square, "It must be beautiful to the illiterate." Missing Mona, too, is a dazzle of lights communicating nothing of much importance.

Lately, I felt like the Louvre patrons who dutifully stood before a bare wall, imagining Mona Lisa. I sit in the audience staring at the stage trying to eimagine Imago.

Imago Theater, 17 SE 8th Ave., 224-8499. 7:30 pm Thursdays, 8 pm Fridays-Saturdays. Opens April 1. $10-$15.

WWeek 2015