Head Games Circuit's Gross Indecency is anything but; Chess makes good moves and bad. by CHRIS DAVIS The Tao of Being Wilde There is nothing more irksome than art that seeks to explain -- or more specifically, to factualize to death what art is, means, or why it should be taken seriously. The unfortunate so-and-so who is cursed with an artist's unflinching eye cannot help but notice that those who might benefit most from such "lessons in civility" are, it would seem, congenitally truant. Respectful patrons of the theater who smile politely, applaud, and uphold this sermonic balderdash have, with best intentions and habiliments in full view, slaughtered the passions they praise as surely and unerringly as our dear friends the fundamentalists have choked the last drop of life from a benevolent God they supposedly love. Having this rant behind, it would now seem hypocritical to turn around and praise Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde, a piece of dramatic literature, which on the surface would appear to be the very thing I have condemned. But as Mr. Wilde made quite clear, in both his life and his irrepressible literature, tedious facts must never subvert the glorious truth -- a state of grace both ephemeral and eternal, found not in universal agreement, but rather in paradox. Gross Indecency, which adheres to this principle, is superb in both design and execution. When the Marquis of Queensberry, inventor of the modern rules of boxing and the father of Oscar Wilde's young lover Lord Alfred "Bosie" Douglas, accused the foppish writer of "posing as a somdomite" [sic], Wilde sued Queensberry for libel and lost. He was subsequently convicted of "gross indecency" (the word homosexuality had yet to enter the language) and sentenced to two years of hard labor. The script for Gross Indecency follows this legal battle and is compiled from court transcripts, letters, newspaper articles, and academic texts. It is an extremely clever piece of work, sacrificing the verisimilitudes so typical of biographical drama (in other words -- don't expect to hear your favorite aphorisms) in favor of keen rhetoric. Though the charge Wilde faces is that of "gross indecency," it is art that is, in the end, put on trial. The barristers barrage Wilde with facts, and he responds with aesthetics, resulting in one edifying paradox after another, illustrating brilliantly the submerged morality in the poet's claims that artifice is more real than the natural and "in matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing." As Wilde, Kevin Jones shows both great passion and tremendous restraint. He in no way attempts to ape the effete mannerisms which have been ascribed to the frequently imitated poet, and it is a wise decision. Though the concept of personality becomes a topic of heated debate, this is ultimately a play less about personalities than about conflicting ideals. Michael Holiday's fine, nonjudgmental essay of Queensberry makes the ill-tempered dullard almost sympathetic, and Ryan Keifer shows both intelligence and commitment as Bosie.The remainder of the ensemble ranges from excellent to exceptional, and director Dave Landis should be commended for his work in molding this difficult piece into a meaningful experience. Though the play is of a serious nature, Landis has found plenty of witty visual juxtapositions to trivialize and make Gross Indecency an event which even the finicky Oscar might have found most tolerable. Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde at Circuit Playhouse through June 25th. Check and Mate It is unlikely that you will ever see a finer assemblage of voices than those gathered at Playhouse on the Square for Tim Rice's high-concept musical Chess. On "Pity the Child," Steven Schroder's consonants deliver Tyson-like blows to the body, physically knocking listeners back in their seats, and Carla McDonald's impassioned delivery of the impossibly catchy "Nobody's Side" (accompanied by chill-inducing background vocals by the ensemble) will have that sonic declaration of independence lodged in your head for weeks. Shorey Walker's loose, "do-your-own-thingish" choreography is less than special, but dancers Jay Rapp and Lindsey Roberts make it seem amazing and elicit spontaneous applause from the audience. The performances of Jim Ostrander, Michael Detroit, and John Maness (Molokov, Anatoly, and Walter, respectively) are thorough and convincing, and in spite of the fact we've seen Sean Lyttle (The Arbiter) glower wickedly many times in the past, his voice and youthful energies are still very impressive. The primary problem with Chess is this: It was originally written to explore Cold War politics by way of a world championship chess match between the U.S. and the Soviet Union. As global politics changed, Chess was updated (something like six times) in an attempt to stay relevant. The result is a watered-down version of the original, which is effective but significantly less powerful. To reference the Wilde review, the truths of the original production would have remained constant in the world Chess, in spite of the ever-changing "facts" of world politics. There was never any need to change a thing. An elegant and functional set design is ruined by some of the sloppiest execution I have ever seen. The painting is an embarrassment (it looks like it belongs on a refrigerator), while the sliding doors shake and rattle, causing immense distraction. Chess at Playhouse on the Square through July 2nd.