It's a medium-sized, white-on-white, abstract painting, and it costs two hundred thousand francs. It's also nearly the annihilation of a friendship among three comrades -- one of whom derides its enigmatic iconography, the other of whom defends it, and the third of whom tries to make peace and winds up getting the worst of the quarrel. This is a story that goes back to the "I Tre Zanni" farces of twelfth-century commedia, and maybe even further to Aesop. The propensity of human beings to stubbornly risk what they hold dear on a conflict of trivial proportions is universal, which probably accounts for Art having, since its premiere in 1995, enjoyed upwards of a hundred productions on three continents, translations into thirty languages, and a shower of plaudits, honors and trophies wherever it plays. Add to that list this Chicago production -- featuring deft performances by Colin Stinton, Michael Gross and Zach Grenier (the last of whom all but stops the show at one point with the longest scripted rant since Lucky's lament in Waiting For Godot) -- which is certain to pick up a few more awards come Jeff time next year.
While Art's one-gag structure would render it tedious for any longer than its brisk 80-minute running time, the show is nevertheless a delightful reflection of human nature and a timely reminder of values that really matter in this imperfect world.
