In a universe without absolutes, 'Relativity' rules in this world and beyond

Albert Einstein tries to take the measure of an inquisitive visitor.

With the recurrent controversies about biopics and their devotion to the truth on their subjects, it was tempting for me to "work up" Albert Einstein before seeing "Relativity," an absorbing one-act play that opened at Shelton Auditorium Thursday night in a production by Southbank Theatre Company.

I chose rather to see how the narrative constructed by Mark St. Germain would wash over me, allowing the full dramatic arc of "Relativity" to take hold and shape my response to it. Only today did I connect with a factual account of Einstein as physicist, celebrity, and person through the Encyclopedia Britannica. 

St. Germain is a practiced adapter of famous lives to stage treatment, and "Relativity" in this production gives a gripping account of the nagging mystery about Einstein's life, specifically about a daughter who seems to have disappeared.

In "Relativity," she shows up as the daughter he lost track of. I risk this spoiler, but the revelation is so essential to the portrait of Einstein the playwright paints that it can't be avoided. Presenting herself as Margaret, a reporter for a Jewish newspaper during the physicist's mid-century eminence at Princeton University, she forces her father to acknowledge his history of separating his intimate life from  iconic achievement in scientific progress.

Einstein is one of the relatively few people to whom the overused label of "icon" can be fairly applied. His very name used to be attached sarcastically to apparently smart people to take them down a peg or two: "Okay, Einstein, so what would you do?" 

Anthony Johnson plays the elderly physicist with an avuncular wit at first. He's guarded at the idea of submitting to yet another interview for public exposure he doesn't need, and only gradually becomes startled and hostile. Margaret knows way more than an ordinarily prepared journalist would, and her revelation of personal interest is impressively staged to give it intense impact. As the persistent, emotionally invested visitor, Morgan Morton registers the range of emotions that childhood memories and her dogged pursuit of family truth arouse in her.

Ronn Johnston directs the show with a lively attention to the movement of the characters around the clutter of Einstein's Princeton living quarters, including memorabilia, that illuminating Einstein's story entails. The cozy Einstein world gets thorough attention in Christian McKinny's stage design. Projections by Aric Harris flesh out the Einstein story with images of people and relevant texts from his life, ending with a colorized repetition of the famous photo of Einstein sticking his tongue out.

The contrast in age and life trajectories of the two main characters never gets a hackneyed presentation, and is crisply coordinated with the stage action. Johnson's gesturing hands and his way of emphasizing Einstein's focus on his life's work is effectively contrasted with Morton's straitlaced passion for defending the ordinary moral obligations of those who must live in the shadows of extraordinary relatives. Lessons in physics are nicely woven into the confrontation.

Einstein's home assistant explains things to Margaret.

A vital link between the ordinary and the extraordinary is the genius' secretary and housekeeper, Ms. Dukas (I'm struck by the use of that title a couple of decades early). 

Miki Mathioudakis plays the part with the right overlay of crabbiness, attention to detail, and suspiciousness. All that is fitting in accommodation to a boss who needs to be both protected and reined in. Dukas is up to the job, but has a lot to learn, too.

The production runs through March 9. In a world that has lately questioned the need for and the methods of science, this particular human story of a scientific titan merits special attention. 

[Photos: Indy Ghost Light]