It Doesn't Take Much of It To Figure Out 'Intelligence'
By Nelson Pressley
Special to The Washington Post
Monday, October 20, 2008
The head of national security is having a heckuva night. A Latin American country is falling apart, an exiled leftist leader has just eluded surveillance, and the security director -- working late in a heavily guarded home office -- is periodically interrupted by his demented wife and financially reckless son.
And blast it, here comes the young hotshot hired to ghostwrite the memoirs! Might as well take time for an interview . . .
So it goes in Kenneth M. Cameron's faulty "Intelligence," a 1980s ethical thriller at Rep Stage that fritters away its suspense with preposterous plotting and soapbox moralizing. Director Walt Witcover gives the drama a rigorously realistic staging -- thick cables and old phone modems take you back fast -- yet little about the play rings true.
Take the two security guards in the outer office: The two hyper-alert characters are barely germane to the play, yet they leap wildly and noisily unlock their weapons each time someone comes to the door. (This more than adequately establishes the theme of paranoia.) The lively actors show no lived-in weariness as the characters go through the elaborate routine of swapping duty, even though just watching it gets tiresome.
The gun-waving antics hardly set the mood for allegory, though Cameron hints that's what he's after as John Stella, the haughty security director, banters with the idealistic kid writer, Bevan Daniel. The script sounds like something from the early 20th century, as Stella and Daniel find time for lengthy high-minded debates about the value of money and the price of one's soul. Eventually they struggle over the future of that imploding Latin American nation, and guess which character has integrity?
Cameron overwrites madly, sketching Stella as a political daredevil rudely dressing down ambassadors and a vulgar egotist spitting badly made sandwiches back toward his kitchen. All conversation is routed through Stella, and Leo Erickson bravely snarls his way through the massive one-note role.
It seems unfair to say Ben Kingsland isn't believable as the 25-year-old whiz kid who goes toe-to-toe with Stella; the arrogant, sarcastic banter doesn't give him a chance. The show does click for a bit, though, when Karl Kippola makes his second-act appearance as Richie, Stella's financier son who's taken an unethical risk and needs to be bailed out. Oh, the double standards, the global consequences, the stink of corruption!
But maybe that's really just current events talking, answering a logical craving after two hours for the windy "Intelligence" to begin making some kind of sense.
Intelligence, by Kenneth M. Cameron. Directed by Walt Witcover. Set, Joseph St. Germain; lights, Jason Arnold; costumes, Melanie A. Clark; sound design, Ann Warren. With Christine Demuth, Elliot Dash and Prudence Barry. About 2 hours 40 minutes.
