Death of the Author

You wouldn’t think a play about such arcane subjects as plagiarism and postmodern literature would be of much interest to non-academics, but Steven Drukman’s Death of the Author proves that theory wrong Although the play does get bogged down at times in a repetitive argument about the worth of certain contemporary literary disciplines, there is enough satire and humanity in it to satisfy a general audience. Also, a first-rate cast led by Orson Bean as a Falstaffian professor keeps breathing warm life into what could have been a long, chilly evening.

Set in “one of the finest universities in the country,” Death of the Author opens with a meeting between Jeff (David Clayton Rogers), an adjunct professor, and Bradley (Austin Butler), who has written a controversial term paper, one that is packed with unattributed quotations from various literary works. When confronted, Bradley, a motor-mouthed rich kid who desperately needs a passing grade to move on to law school, defends himself by referencing Jacques Derrida, the French philosopher whose theories about deconstructed literature were much discussed in Jeff’s class. If only the text, not the writer, counts (as Derrida preaches) what’s it matter where the text originated from?

Class and a sexual component also enter into the argument: Jeff comes from a “poor white trash” background and happens to be gay; Bradley is straight and was born into wealth and privilege. He’s also got a brainy and brash girlfriend, Sarah (Lyndon Smith), who keeps intruding into the argument between the prof and his student. The catalytic force in the story, though, is J. Trumbull Sykes, the salty-tongued, roguish scholar played by Bean. Called in to adjudicate the plagiarism case, he explodes on stage like July 4th fireworks, shooting off jokes and aphorisms, calling for drink and food. His irreverence and lustiness help ground Drukman’s somewhat airy-fairy play in terra firma.