The following piece is co-written by Kelly Coons ’22, assistant opinions editor, and Raina Okonogi-Neth ’23, arts writer. In the first section, Coons gives background to the accessibility-focused production of “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.” In the second section, Okonogi-Neth reviews the play as an artistic production with that background in mind.
“The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” debuted as a play Aug. 2, 2012, based off of the 2003 novel. Smith presented it Oct. 26, 2019.
Smith also presented previews Oct. 22, 23 and 24 for the autistic community. I had the opportunity to attend the Wednesday preview. It was a standard preview, but instead of being asked about line delivery and pace, I was asked about the intensity of the lights and sound.
“The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” is about autism. The protagonist, Christopher’s, autism is an irrefutable part of who he is. Without Christopher’s autism, the central conflict (not necessarily the murder mystery) would not exist. Neither would the drive to solve the murder mystery: the aforementioned curious incident of the dog in the night-time.
However, “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” did not involve autistic creators. The author of the original book, Mark Haddon, is not autistic. He is not an expert on autism, nor does he desire to be. In a 2010 interview with The Independent, he declared that he was “now thoroughly irritated that the word Asperger’s appeared on subsequent editions of the novel, because now everyone imagines that he is an expert and he keeps getting phone calls asking him to appear at lectures.”
The theater adaptation has continued to not involve the autistic community. In fact, only one autistic actor has played Christopher in a major performance: Mickey Rowe in the co-production of the play in Indiana Repertory Theatre and Syracuse Stage. In a video with Great Big Story, a cinematic storytelling company, Rowe talked about the continuing difficulties of disability representation. “It’s really hard for people with any disability to get a large role in a professional theatre, but for the first time in my life I’m getting to star in a major professional production.” He emphasized that autistic people are actors. “I’ve had to be an actor my whole life to pass as neurotypical. Being an actor comes naturally to me. I use scripting in my daily life.”
Smith is doing its part to rectify this. I had the opportunity to speak with the head of the advising board: an autistic student who meets with the director every week. She explained that she worked to ensure that the lights and sound were not so overwhelming as to alienate autistic audience members and advocate for autistic actors in the production (of which there are several, including the actor who plays Christopher: a founding goal for the advising board).
Accessibility was a primary goal for the set design of Smith’s production of “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” directed by Ellie W. Kaplan and adapted from Mark Haddon’s novel of the same name by Simons Stephens. The original production, which was directed by Marianne Elliott and which opened at the Royal National Theatre in London in 2012, utilized video projections on its three walls and LED pin-lights built into its floor which flashed images to communicate Christopher’s mental and emotional state. Smith’s production has attempted to meet that same goal while lessening the intensity of the visual effects and keeping the production safe for students with sensory sensitivities.
The production utilizes a few highly mutable set pieces over a flurry of props and backdrops. Its set is three walls of drawer-like hidden blocks which are pulled out throughout the show to serve as stairs, furniture, or seats for the play’s ensemble. The ensemble uses body language to mirror Christopher’s emotions while seated and morphs into minor characters and props while not. The set’s walls are continually modified by projected images, from a night-sky to a full game of Tetris. These images, too, are used to communicate Christopher’s environment and interior life.
While these effects create a visually interesting experience, they don’t always succeed at creating a coherent picture of Christopher’s mind. In particular, the meaning of the blocks, which represent Christopher’s ability to compartmentalize, gets mostly lost in the chaos of the play. However, there are many moments when the play’s effects, particularly the projections, are used effectively, heightening the emotions of a scene.
One such moment occurs in the very first scene of the play. “Curious Incident” opens on a striking image. Christopher (Sunshine Schneider ’22) is standing in the dark in the neighbor’s yard, looking at the corpse of Wellington, the neighbor’s dog. Wellington is lying dead in a pool of blood, a garden fork still sticking out of his stomach. The projections communicate the facts and emotions of this scene without subjecting the audience to anything truly gruesome. Rather, a sanitized illustration of the dead Wellington is projected behind Christopher. As the scene continues, this image is replaced by a sea of teeming red matter. It is not a gory image, but it is an affecting one.
While this opening scene gives the audience an accurate introduction to the production’s effects, it is slightly misleading about the plot. “Curious Incident” may at first purport to be a mystery, but it is a drama. The salient question is not who killed Wellington but why.
“Curious Incident” is a grounded story about family conflict. At its most intense, when the characters’ anger and frustration is most palpable, it can be uncomfortable to watch. But this discomfort is one of the play’s greatest assets. “Curious Incident” is willing to explore hard subjects without whittling down the nuance of its themes. Its characters are flawed individuals who often fail to act responsibly, and it becomes clear through the play that there is no simple solution for their problems.
Still, the play contains levity. This is in large part due to Christopher, who is an endearing protagonist. As he faces greater and greater challenges, it is hard not to root for him.
The play does a good job of illustrating the challenges that come with being autistic without framing it as something that Christopher must overcome. There are many moments in which he is at odds with the film’s neurotypical characters, but the play rarely frames him as wholly incorrect in his idiosyncrasies. “People tell you to be quiet,” he points out, “but they never tell you how long to be quiet for.” Much of the play’s humor is made up from jabs like these from Christopher about his surroundings.
Moreover, Christopher is simply a well-developed character. His autism is never boiled down to a single trait, and he never feels like a stand-in for all people with autism.
It is likely this focus on Christopher that leads to the tension between the play and its ending. The play’s family conflict ends up as more of a background to Christopher’s arc than a story in itself. The play’s ostensibly happy ending feels as though it has hurriedly slammed the curtains shut before further conflict can occur. The characters have returned to a status quo from before the play began without fully addressing why that status quo was altered in the first place. Christopher’s reconciliation with the person who has most hurt him through the play is framed as a foregone conclusion, as a project at which they both must work, rather than as a decision which is still being made.
This tension is supported by the presence of a tonally out of place coda in which Christopher is enthusiastic and triumphant. This moment steamrolls over the play’s more appropriate and melancholy ending. Because while the slightly-contrived ending may not be satisfying, it does make sense for Christopher. He still lacks the freedom to fully engage with the world. He is able to exert much more control over his own small victories than his family’s situation. The play’s original ending leans into this bitter-sweet tone. It closes on a question of Christopher’s independence. “Does this mean that I can do anything?” he asks. The answer never comes.
Schneider’s emotional delivery in this scene is one of many moments of great acting from the cast. Schneider plays Christopher with great personality and enthusiasm. The play’s best acting, however, comes from Gabe Levey, who is not a Five College student, and June Lienhard ’21, who play Christopher’s parents. The two ground many of the play’s most intense scenes. Lienhard in particular is the stand-out of the cast. Her performance is grippingly emotional, and she manages to capture the mannerisms of an older woman so well that one barely notices the age discrepancy between her and Levey.
Ultimately, while some elements of Smith’s production of “Curious Incident” do not land, it is a thoughtful piece of theater. Its set pieces are innovative, its performances are great, and its script is both challenging and entertaining. It presents a subject matter not often seen in theater in a nuanced and positive light. Best of all, it is accessible. The Smith Theater Department’s efforts to make the show safe for all Smith students should be recognized and will hopefully be incorporated into other productions in the future.
