With brazen timelessness, Jean-Paul Sartre's extended one-act strips away traditional preconceptions and bluntly reveals that hell may turn out to be a punishment born of our own making. Celebrating the 60th anniversary of this existentialistic masterpiece's original premiere, The Next Arena proves that a well-constructed story fleshed out by talented artisans never loses its luster. Director Scott Rognlien and his merrily damned ensemble grab Sartre's piece—not to mention our interest—by the throat and refuse to let go until every last ounce of horrifying self-examination has been wrung from it.
As each of the three inductees arrives, sentenced to an eternity spent in a living room furnished with Second Empire sofas and settees, stakes and emotions are intensified. Stefan Cattan as journalist Joseph Garcin cloaks his character in pacifistic self-righteousness, only to reveal his unpardonable offense to be that of cowardice and an unhealthy disrespect for marriage vows. Cattan's remarkable edginess resembles that of a caged animal, pacing but docile one moment and violently dangerous the next. As lesbian postal worker Inez Serrano, guilty of bedding her cousin's wife and thereby destroying yet another union, Maia Peters capitalizes on this character's strength with the unexpected result being Inez's debilitating fear.
With flourishes all around, Annie Terry ably rounds out this trio of souls as Estelle Rigault, a self-absorbed flitting woman whose sins are exposed as far more heinous than those of her counterparts. Terry's phenomenal grasp of Estelle's flirtatious narcissism makes the character's coming to grips with her predicament all the more tragic. Finally, in a role often glossed over as just so much exposition, Eric Normington's Valet is a gem, each line and facial expression polished to perfection. His conveyances of the other three to their new abode are so dryly executed that each comment is fairly brimming with sarcastic double entendre. His limited time onstage, remarkably executed, brings to mind the "no small parts" adage.
Overall, Rognlien's direction is impeccable, but his finest work is exhibited in those moments in which each character alone can witness occurrences from the world they have left behind. Garcin's newspaper colleagues, Estelle's own funeral, and Inez's relationship with her now-dead lover are played out in vivid detail. Terry's lighting design flows over the dappled grays and blacks of the set (attributed to Maia Peters and Holly Peters), transporting us to the memories of these eternally imprisoned inmates.
Finally, our three microscopically examined subjects realize the ultimate gravity of their situation: It is merely the beginning of something that will never end. Cattan's final words ring unsettlingly prophetic as he states so simply, "Well, let's get on with it."
"No Exit," presented by the Next Arena at cell2, 3301 Beverly Blvd., L.A. Fri.-Sat. 8 p.m. Apr. 16-May 22. $15. (323) 939-1717.