Apollo shines light on America’s schizophrenic past

Should you walk into the Gerding Theater at Portland Center Stage for a showing of Apollo, you should be aware that you are going to be in for the long haul, as the production is a three-parter, spanning over three and half hours.

You also should understand that you are in for something special, as plays of Apollo‘s depth, ambition and inspired wild arrogance are few and far between.

Apollo, the god of light, starts the audience on a direction of opportunity and optimism, as Nazi rocket scientists are handpicked by government officials to create a space program for America.

The scientists impress everyone from JFK to Mickey Mouse, while the audience gets a mouthful of information on rocket physics. The factoids give no drama to some of the glossed over, tense situations, nor is it easy to understand who is who for much of the production.

The second act delves into the life of Eli Rosenbaum, a U.S. Justice Department prosecutor who dedicated his time to discovering the identities and past crimes of the Nazi rocket scientists and the U.S. government’s ambition to use them in its path to becoming a world leader. The sheer weight of the endeavor is brilliantly manifested in the 3,000 file boxes that create the surroundings of Rosenbaum’s world.

The third act, about the hard-fought struggle for desegregation and its confluence with the Apollo program, is the most engaging. Keystone takes the action to a new level with innovative blocking, slowing action down and fast-forwarding it at times, with the actors exaggerating movements during a lunch counter scene of civil disobedience. It is one of the best sequences in the piece.

However, for all its lofty ambition, throughout parts of the production Apollo feels like a middle school history class production or performance art piece, instead of classical theater.

Yes, America used Nazis in its space program. Yes, there was segregation in the United States, but there are a few tidbits that most wouldn’t find in their eighth grade history textbook.

However, in contrast to the myriad bits of useless information that take away from the performance, the set design is Apollo’s saving grace.

PCS has always been known to be the top dog when it comes to masterful sets and props, but this production exceeds anyone’s expectations. Using multimedia, boards of light bulbs, cotton and paper airplanes thrown into the audience, the production elements create a statement unto itself.

Some scenes show the performers at a table, miming eating, yet there is no tableware in sight. What was chosen to be a part of the overall aesthetic was deliberate, minimal and beautiful.

Dates of historic moments throughout America’s life in the 20th century flash across the backdrop so the audience gets a sense of the mood, while lightening and sound fill in the spaces.

Ultimately, Apollo is a play as daring as the space program itself, aiming for the unknown borders of the imagination with production values that easily rival the best of Broadway or London, and where it succeeds, it succeeds big. But where Apollo fails, keeping the audience on the line with a compelling narrative drama, it spirals down from the sky in flames, a victim of its own ambitions.

Before the production began, Chris Coleman, the director of PCS, likened experiencing Apollo to being a part of a marathon. Apollo is a marathon, a marathon worth running if only for the scenery.