Two new New York stage productions transform complex novels into equally complex and inherently risky plays. Instead of relying on the source material, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time and The Fortress of Solitude amplify it to become powerful theatrical experiences.
Alexander Sharp (center) and the cast of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
Joan Marcus
"I find people confusing," says Christopher in his narration of Mark Haddon's 2003 novel The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. Christopher has reason to be confused: People are walking contradictions who say things they don't mean, which is especially troubling to Christopher. He has a condition the book never diagnoses, but which has been analyzed by critics as Asperger's syndrome or another form of high-functioning autism.
With Christopher as the narrator, Curious Incident retains a unique, deceptively complex style: Although Christopher clearly relates the events of the plot, which involve his absent mother and the murder of a neighbor's dog, the simplistic language underlines his difficulty processing emotions and making sense of the world around him.
If the novel is a quiet reflection on how a boy like Christopher perceives, the theatrical adaptation of Curious Incident, now playing at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre in New York, is a loud, thrilling look at what it's like to live inside Christopher's sensory overloaded head. The play, which first premiered in London in 2012, is an ambitious and, at times, overwhelming production — sights and sounds assault the audience in the same way that they do Christopher, played by the phenomenal Alexander Sharp. The stage moves and shifts, displaying an endless onslaught of flashing lights and booming voices, all designed to capture the chaos within Christopher's mind. It's a different approach from the book but it's perhaps one of the most gripping depictions of one part of the autism spectrum, a stunning achievement that can only happen in live theater.
Sharp as Christopher in Curious Incident
Joan Marcus
Adapting literature to the stage is nothing new: Many of the most iconic Broadway musicals of all time, including Les Misérables, The Phantom of the Opera, and Wicked, began as novels. But these were fairly straightforward adaptations that condensed and streamlined the plots of their source material and largely simplified the narrative. That's not a mark against them — the best of these shows succeed in their own right — but as far as adaptation goes, it's a relatively simple process. Ditch the extraneous characters, highlight the most important themes, and sing the exposition.
What's fascinating about the theatrical iteration of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is that playwright Simon Stephens has taken an intricate novel and adapted it into something equally complex and challenging. Much like the book, Curious Incident on stage is a joy to take in — but it's not an easy journey for the audience. This is a play that asks you to see through Christopher's eyes, witnessing both the good and the bad and offering an experience that's incredibly moving and, at times, almost too much to endure.
That's not to downplay the simpler pleasures of Curious Incident, which is often warm, funny, and even downright joyous. But special attention must be paid to an adaptation that manages to be so thoroughly original — even for those familiar with Haddon's novel, the play offers something entirely new. The mystery of who killed Wellington the poodle is secondary to the inner workings of Christopher's mind, which — as he explains with the use of a lively multimedia presentation — takes in everything all at once.
It would be naïve to say that simply seeing the show allows the audience to understand what it's like to live with a form of autism, but the play does provide valuable, experiential insight. The world that Christopher lives in is bright and terrifying, which makes his failures all the more devastating — and his achievements that much more thrilling.
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