For all its discussions of man, god, science vs. religion, and the tyranny of conformity, The Invisible Man is basically a sci-fi melodrama about a mad scientist. Michael O'Brien's dark, brooding play doesn't even really work beyond the conventional excitement of a monster play. Will they catch him? Who's gonna get hurt? And wouldn't it be fun to be invisible?
Well, no; not for the title role -- a scientist who has achieved his task but failed in his goal and is now utterly miserable because he cannot discover how to reverse his experiment. At least Mr. Hyde got his kicks doing his dirty deeds. This invisible scientist cries, screams, sobs and moans through the whole play. I'd pity him, but he saves me the trouble. Other than his entirely understandable disgust at the nosy, conventional, frightened but eager-to-interfere townspeople who will not let him alone, the invisible James Griffin's primary emotion is self-pity. So he's hard to like even before he kills one of the sadistic boobs trying to catch and hurt him.
I suspect that this fairly exciting little thriller will be a popular light entertainment, even when not so elegantly staged and acted as it is at the Shaw Festival. It sustains good tension and creates some amusing and exciting effects. Neil Munro's taut direction emphasizes all the humor to be found in the story, and -- as is Munro's wont -- tries to make us think about the serious elements and debatable consequences of the scientist's struggle to combat and command mankind's natural limitations. But the fun is in the special effects that really look like an invisible man onstage. One climactic moment, when he sits and unwraps his bandaged head to reveal nothing at all above his collar, gets an audible reaction of delighted surprise from the audience.
And I must say that I didn't think the role would really work without the late Claude Rains' unmatchable voice; the only actors I could imagine getting close to that vocal performance are all too old for the role. But Peter Krantz, a handsome leading man-type, gives a surprisingly commanding performance with a strong, controlled voice that compels rapt attention and holds the performance together seemingly effortlessly. Although he is too often required to whine and repeat how unhappy he is, Griffin has moments when his voice rises in passion to exhort or chastise his small-town tormentors, and Krantz makes them thrilling.
Wendy Thatcher is wonderfully amusing and maddening as the suspicious landlady who wants Griffin out of her house. Neil Barclay is a splendid clown in the role of the drunk who talks to the unseen Griffin and becomes his unwilling accomplice. And Jeff Meadows is almost too realistic as Griffin's former schoolchum and fellow scientist, now a conventional doctor married to Griffin's former love (and, therefore, Griffin's betrayer).
The climactic scene when Griffin is caught and killed naked is effectively shocking, but the final ho-hum plot twist is a monster-movie cliche.
