To See or Not to See: The Woodsman

Imagination theater is trending these days. From the magical production of Peter and the Starcatcher to the fun production of The Robber Bridegroom, audiences, more than ever, are being asked to actively use their imaginations. They are part of the act of creating a world rather than just witnessing a world the cast and company has already created. This is an integral part of The Woodsman–James Ortiz’s haunting and beautifully imaginative precursor to The Wizard of Oz.

Before anyone steps onto the stage of The Woodsman, the show has begun. Walking into the small theater, audience members step into a strange, eerily beautiful world: the lights are low in the steadily-burning mason jars hanging around the stage; the old black & white photographs plastered on the walls create a sense of a people and a place; and the stage itself brings to mind a dappled and dark forest. Already, each audience member is conjuring up this land of eastern Oz in their imagination.

Once the show does begin and the brief introductory moment of speech is put to rest, the audience must glean the story from movement and sound. And what a sweetly sad story it is. The audience becomes a part of the Tin Man (James Ortiz), or Nick Chopper’s story. His Munchkin parents try to escape eastern Oz–held in the clutches of the Wicked Witch of the East–and make their way to the Emerald City. They stop partway, instead, in a safe clearing in the forest to build their home and to start their family. Nick grows up, and his parents grow old. The montage of the aging process for youth and the elderly is joyful and touching. Eventually, Nick meets the Witch’s slave girl, Nimmee (Eliza Martin Simpson), and they fall in love. Trying to destroy them, the Witch enchants Nick’s ax which slowly turns him into a Tin Man without a heart.

All of this, remember, is done without words. Using guttural noises, whistles, humming, stomps, snaps, and claps, the ensemble tells the story of the Tin Man. Underlying the sounds of the cast is one solo violin–almost constantly playing music (brava to violinist Naomi Florin for never tiring through the 75 minute show). Some moments are emphasized with actual singing which are done mostly by the sweet-voiced Lauren Nordvig.

One of the highlights of the show was the use of puppetry. Watching Nick Chopper turn into the Tin Man was a wonderful exercise in audience imagination and genius puppetry. When he finally became the Tin Man, you could feel his heart break at the love–and the heart–he lost despite him being a literal metal skeleton puppet. Additionally, the Witch puppet was expertly handled (and creepily voiced) by Amanda A. Lederer and Sophia Zukoski. Each time the Witch flew through the air or slowly stomped across the stage, the fear was palpable; her ragged screeching breaths are the sounds of children’s nightmares.

Despite the inventiveness of the show and the emotions that were stirred, the loss of words throughout limited the telling of the story. While it enabled the emotions and heart to shine through, there were times that were muddled which certainly would have been explained easily with words. Additionally, the transformation of the Tin Man could have slowed down a bit. The build-up in the beginning was so lovely to watch that the second half of the show felt a bit more rushed.

Despite it’s minor shortcomings, The Woodsman was–like it’s protagonist–full of heart. After watching The Woodsman, I’d bet that audiences are eager to see the Tin Man get his heart back–perhaps in a second installment by Ortiz.

Photo Credit: Matthew Murphy