By Marilyn Jozwik
There doesn’t seem to have been a time in our history when facts and truth have taken such a beating. Journalists especially have been put under a microscope these days and questions abound about their integrity.
In Waukesha Civic Theatre’s “The Lifespan of a Fact,” in their new black box theater space still under construction, we see fact checker Jim Fingal (Aidan Sternberg) and essayist John D’Agata (Jake Konrath) in a metaphorical ring, sparring relentlessly as their editor at the magazine, Emily (Julie Ferris-Tillman), referees the match.
Jim Fingal and John D’Agata wrote the book on which this play is based. In a sort of nesting dolls scenario, the book is based on a magazine essay written by D’Agata about Las Vegas’ high rate of suicides after a 16-year-old jumped from the top of a hotel. Due to a disagreement about D’Agata’s approach to the story, it was never published, but years later a version that was fact-checked by Fingal appeared in another magazine.
The dynamics of the three characters in the show are intriguing – and entertaining – and the three performers inhabit them most believably under the direction of Meghan Hopper.
The show opens with young and eager Harvard grad Jim Fingal being interviewed by Emily for a job as a fact checker for a story – about the 16-year-old suicide victim -- by a well-known essayist – John D’Agata. Emily gives Fingal the assignment, which he has just a few days to complete.
It soon becomes apparent that Fingal’s idea of fact checking does not mesh with those of the author or his editor. Emily is astounded when Fingal provides a spreadsheet of over 130 pages when D’Agata’s essay was only 15 pages.
Jim Fingal (Aidan Sternberg) checks his phone in a scene from Waukesha Civic Theatre’s “The Lifespan of a Fact.” Photos by The Holleys Photography
Fingal’s fact-checking takes him to D’Agata’s home in Las Vegas, where his ultra-diligence angers D’Agata, who tells him “Don’t get bogged down in the details” and “Don’t over-estimate your importance.” Fingal tells D’Agata that readers will trust that events occurred as they are detailed in his story, even if it’s off by just a second, as with the amount of time D’Agata said it took the young man to fall.
D’Agata defends his right to alter facts to create the mood, tone and style he’s seeking in his literary work and talks about his personal investment in the essay. He calls Fingal “a particular kind of dilettante” and claims that he is among those “who look down their noses on ambiguity, nuance …”
Emily, who flies to Las Vegas to moderate the heated discussion between the two, also gets frustrated with Fingal’s attention to minutiae, which leaves him confused as to what is important enough to fact check. “There is no code book,” she says, “It’s called judgement.”
D’Agata has a hard time with Fingal’s and Emily’s perspectives: “I’m not a journalist. I’m an essayist.” “You might not be,” says Emily, “but I am.” Fingal echoes her sentiments, saying he doesn’t want to “adjust to your (D’Agata’s) poetic truth” and that the essayist “violates 10 rules of journalistic ethics.”
But in the end, D’Agata has confidence in his storytelling. “I started with the facts … and I wrote to his spirit,” he says of the young man who died, railing about how slavishly sticking to the facts produces “overprocessed garbage” and “even the most precise numbers in this world tell you nothing.”
The is like a tennis match, with arguments batted back and forth like tennis balls. In one moment you see Fingal’s point. In the next, you agree with D’Agata. The match comes down to the final point as the deadline approaches to hold the essay or let the presses run with it. And it provides lots of food for thought.
These three performers hold your attention throughout, each striking the right tone for their character. Sternberg as the diligent fact checker is totally engaging, perfecting the bulldog-like tenacity of his character and youthful exuberance. Fingal’s crisp, neatly pressed pants, argyle vest and perfectly coiffed hair are a stark contrast to the rumpled D’Agata.
At times, their arguments turn into class warfare. D’Agata, who comes from modest roots, chides the privileged Fingal for being out of touch. “Did you ever want to curl up in a corner and die?” he asks.
Konrath’s D’Agata matches Sternberg’s passion and fits the arrogant, in-love-with-his-words writer to a tee. His indignation at his essay’s being questioned by this upstart is palpable.
Ferris-Tillman is the perfect go-between as the editor, trying to strike the right balance between allowing her star writer literary freedom and holding him to the facts that may get in the way of the story.
Director Hopper keeps the performers moving – in Emily’s office, D’Agata’s home, on the phone, standing sitting and gesturing -- so that the dialogue-heavy show doesn’t get bogged down. The actors do the rest as they are totally invested in their characters.
If you go:
Who: Waukesha Civic Theatre
What: The Lifespan of a Fact
When: Through July 21
Where: 264 W. Main St., Waukesha
Info/Tickets: 262-547-0708, www.waukeshacivictheatre.org