Carson Kreitzer's 'Behind the Eye' (2nd review)

Lee Miller lived in the shadow of famous people like Picasso, Man Ray and Jean Cocteau. I'd like to learn more about them. But even more, I'd like to see what's interesting about Miller's own life.

I wanted to see the drama of Lee Miller aside from her associations with celebrities, a history already well explored by such BSR critics as Dan Rottenberg, Robert Zaller and Andrew Mangravite. So I tried to view Behind the Eye as a previously blank canvas.

Alas, most of Carson Kreitzer's script doesn't allow it. Instead it's full of the comings and goings of prominent artists, publishers and other eminences who perpetually whiz across the stage. And when they're not in view, you can't avoid hearing their names dropping like flak on the rooftops of wartime London. Yet Behind the Eye teaches us nothing new about them.

Who was Man Ray?

Here, for example, was the woman closest professionally and romantically to the Paris photographer Man Ray—born Emanuel Radnitzky in Philadelphia— yet Miller apparently left nothing behind to expand our knowledge of his celebrated life.

As for understanding Miller's life: One lover described her as more complicated than the partitioning of Vienna. Lee possessed a manic personality with a tinge of hysteria. As she put it, "I get the jitters sitting still... I can't breathe... can't live in my own skin."

She rebelled at being faithful to anyone, and she chafed at living in the country home which her husband thought would be a calming refuge for her. She never sat still long enough to be diagnosed as manic-depressive, or obsessive-compulsive, but in Behind the Eye she exhibits both symptoms.

The script portrays Miller's growing dependence on alcohol. We get a brief hint of other maladies, too, like unexplained bleeding, and Miller's treatment by a gland specialist.

Childhood rape

Not until halfway through Behind the Eye do we get some clue to Miller's childhood traumas: venereal disease as the result of rape, and nude photographs taken by her father; also a long ordeal in which her mother irrigated Lee's body with carbolic, boric and pitric acids, and repeatedly scoured her with bleach in an effort to destroy her disease and erase everything connected to it. Yet Kreitzer fails to construct a bridge to show how these experiences affected Miller's adult relationships.

None of the play's shortcomings are the fault of this cast or director. Kittson O'Neill seized our attention with her blonde good looks— somewhat like Miller's— and beguiled us during her long and arduous monologues. (The play does contain dialogue, but those scenes are brief and superficial.) Allen Radway tried especially hard, utilizing different accents, looks and posture with each of his multiple characters and he did succeed in bringing Miller's second husband, Roland Penrose, to life.

Director Lisa Jo Epstein added a great deal, with flipping mirrors and tables rolling on casters or frequently turned on end to create new props. These devices punctuated the script's long speeches while also adding a frenetic energy to match Miller's.♦


To read another review by Dan Rottenberg, click here.
To read another review by Robert Zaller, click here.