Until two days ago I did not know that a new theater company in town existed. Called The Lumen Theater Project, it is founded by its artistic director Chip Simmons. Simmons, you may know, was a stalwart exceptional performer at A.D. Players for 25 years, performing every role in the rep. He is one of those “never-fail” actors whose work you looked forward to. Solid and truthful, he brought life onto the stage. Well, I hope this new venture of his is as successful.
Lumen’s inaugural production is Leonard Nimoy’s one-man bio drama Vincent (1981). Yes, that Leonard Nimoy, the iconic, beloved Vulcan, Mr. Spock from Star Trek. Nimoy had a never-ending career even after the famed TV series, co-starring in countless television shows and stage appearances. He later would direct two Star Trek films, star as Tevye in Fiddler, as well as perform leading roles in Sherlock Holmes, Equus, and The King and I. He died in 2016, and his fan club is still mourning.
If there’s anyone in Houston theater who could play the two Van Gogh brothers, Parisian gallery owner Theo and his older fiery sibling Vincent, I can think of no one more appropriate than Phillip Hays. Without question, he is one of Houston theater’s finest. And when you see his name in a playbill, you instantly sit up straighter and never take your eyes off him. Dramatic yet subtle, he never overplays and always gives an indelible performance, even in a subsidiary role. His craft, his innate intelligence, his presence is nonpareil. You always watch him.
In Vincent, you must watch him, for he’s the only one on stage. Playing both Theo and Vincent in Nimoy’s epistolary drama, he narrates Vincent’s life as only a loving brother could. The play’s dialogue, like a documentary from Moisés Kaufman, consists of those famous letters written between the brothers during Vincent’s short exceptional life.
Vincent’s fantastic art is projected on three screens as commentary and evidence of his unique talent and vision. Michael Mullins is responsible for the sharp renderings, but the larger middle screen is a bit washed out. That could be due to the electric grid shorting out during the day Saturday and leaving the room with only mundane overhead fixtures. Simmons apologized for the gaffe but promised the problem would be fixed for today’s matinee (Sunday, May 3).
Except for that pastel middle panel, the lack of stage lighting really doesn’t matter, because Hays supplies all the light necessary. He illuminates the small space at Vineyard Church. Passionate, controlled, desperate, in love, and guilt-ridden over Theo’s failure to help his brother overcome his demons, although he financially supported him throughout his short career, Hays supplies a radiant, in-depth, truthful portrayal of the one person who loved Vincent most of all.
All the high points are covered: the rigid unforgiving parents; the preaching in the coal mining district of Belgium’s Borinage; the nascent sketches of poverty-stricken farm workers; an aborted stay at Antwerp’s art Academy where his unconventional style (like adding hips to the arm-less Venus de Milo) got him unceremoniously dismissed; his stay with Theo in Paris circa 1886 where he meets Toulouse Lautrec, a life-long friend; his move to sunny Arles in 1888 where the yellow wheat fields and incandescent sunflowers beckon and influence his palette; the tumultuous visit of Paul Gaughin, Vincent’s destructive idol; his descent into abyss-deep depression when he severs part of his left ear and hands it as a gift to the prostitute Rachel; the citizens’ petition that banished him from Arles for being mad; his voluntary commitment to the asylum in St. Remy; a short recovery, then his final stay northwest of Paris in Auvers-sur-Oise where his demons returned with a vengeance.
He shot himself in the fields while painting Wheat Fields with Crows, July 1890. He died two days later with Theo at his bedside. No doubt distraught and brokenhearted, Theo died six months after.
Nimoy’s play is fitting tribute to one of the world’s most beloved artists. Director Simmons breathes stage life into the tale with constant motion and then dramatic stillness; set designer Paul Larsen overlays the two lives with an atmospheric environment of desks, a jute rug befitting the south of France, a vase of dahlias and sunflowers, antique clippings, notebooks, empty easels, and a straw hat affixed with two candles that Vincent wore to paint at night so he could see his canvas; and Donna Southern Schmidt’s three-piece wool suit with double-breasted vest and wing collar shirt with tie is picture perfect for late 19th-century Theo. Lovely work all around.
But it is Hays’ magnificent double portrayal that allows us into their secret hearts. He roars, purrs, weeps, and ironically comments on his wayward, genius brother. We get to intimately know Vincent as well as we do Theo. Both were troubled, both were loved. Vincent would not have survived as long as he did without his brother’s constant encouragement, sometime disappointment, and never less than abiding love and admiration.
Vincent van Gogh’s miraculous career began in 1880 and ran until 1890. In only ten years, he produced countless masterpieces, sometimes two a day at Arles, but sold only one painting in his lifetime. Now his work is priceless and beloved throughout the world. Nimoy’s play and Hays’ defining portraits lets us understand these inseparable brothers. We glimpse the paintings’ inner lives through theirs.
Vincent once said, “I don’t paint what I see. I paint what I feel when I see.”
Unfortunately, I caught Vincent during its penultimate show. If you read this today, Sunday May 3, visit Lumen and feel Van Gogh and Theo through their eyes. The view’s remarkable.
Vincent continues at 2 p.m. Sunday, May 3 at The Lumen Theater Project, 1035 E. 11th Street. For more information, visit chip@lumentheater.com. Pay what you will.
