“Call me Ishmael.”
How else could you start “Moby Dick” in any form? This stage adaptation of Herman Melville’s great American novel is often described as a musical, though it is hardly what you would expect from such a description. The songs are sea shanties, old as dirt, sang in booming chorus while the sailors of the Pequod shout and make merry with the brashness of raucous glee.
The Mother Road Theatre Company’s production, directed by Julia Thudium, is hosted by The Filling Station, a fascinating performance space.
It’s small — like most of the blossoming theaters in Albuquerque — and carved from a retro Route 66 Gas Station dating back to the 1930s. Two great wooden columns form the stage, making perfect masts for the mighty ship we spend most of our time imagining. Its owner, David Sinkus, addresses the audience beforehand to remind us that Moby Dick was, in fact, a very large whale.
The set and props are nonexistent (with the stunning effect of a glowing, painted combined whale’s tale and world atlas on the back wall) and all props are mimed, save one — the mighty harpoon Ahab uses to slay his unconquerable enemy.
First, of course, we are introduced to Ishmael, (Kelly O’Keefe) our boyish yet determined narrator.
The majority first half of the play is on the shoulders of O’Keefe, and he carries us effortlessly. From the moment he first speaks those three iconic words, we are with him in an instant.
Ishmael is green to the nautical world he spins for us and acts as an outsider so that we may hear the story, too.
The ship’s crew is a delight to watch (Vic Browder as Stubb, in particular) and although they are sailors, and yes, they do sing quite a bit, they’re not quite the Village People. It’s not even like H.M.S. Pinafore. They are guffawing, jeering seamen, drinking and whaling and howling at the top of their lungs, clearly enjoying every minute on stage.
Starbuck, the first mate, (Peter Diseth) is immediately distinguishable from the rest of the crew in his poise and performance, exuding composure and honor among the bawdy revelry.
He exists to carry out the will of the enigmatic Captain Ahab, whose image and legend is slowly built until, at long last, his sly entrance is barely noticeable and his appearance sends a shiver down the audience’s spine.
And live up to his legend he does. To say that Nicholas Ballas’ Ahab is larger than life doesn’t quite cut it. The entire play is bold and dramatic, but Ballas’ performance is truly the spearhead of this work. He plays Ahab with dominating insanity and charisma, giving life to Ahab’s sickness of body and mind in a fiercely palpable way. “Pull, my Thunderbolts!” he screams, egging on his struggling crew to stand together for their captain who seeks to fight his destiny.
Ahab seeks the unfathomable Moby Dick, a sperm whale that robs him of his leg and leaves him with the will to do nothing except hunt the beast for revenge.
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The crew successfully and unapologetically kills a whale at the end of the first act and begins to harvest it as the second act begins. “We were in no way sad for its funeral,” explains Ishmael.
Whaling seems more like wanton slaughter than the noble battle of civility and savagery the crew portrays it to be. Despite that the whale’s death will bring materials to “sit upon the necks of rich women,” a line spoken without bitterness by Ishmael, the entire practice is wholly barbaric. This makes it quite difficult to get behind the idea of murdering an animal for revenge.
Starbuck makes the case to Ishmael (not about the whaling, he quite likes that part) that vengeance against a creature that can’t possibly understand his motives is illogical. But Ahab doesn’t see it that way.
For Ahab, Moby Dick represents all the evil in the world. And this is entirely possible — Moby Dick is the only thing more inscrutable in the play than Ahab himself. Moby Dick represents insurmountable goals and unknowable, unavoidable fate. Moby Dick is God.
This is not a work to make you feel good about yourself, though you will learn. It is visceral and dramatic, as anyone would expect from a march toward death and inevitability, in the face of all destinies that must come to an end.
*Moby Dick
Sept. 3 through Sept. 26
Thursday and Friday at 8 p.m., Saturday at 6 p.m. and Sunday at 2 p.m.
The Filling Station, 1024 Fourth St. S.W., located on historic, pre-1937 Route 66.
$16
*
