Stoppard's "Jumpers": Philosophy, morality, murder and gymnasts

"I wanted to write a play about an ethical question in terms of academics. But I didn't know any philosophers and hardly any academics ... I had this piece of paper with this dead acrobat on the floor and I didn't know who he was, who shot him or why."
— Tom Stoppard on writing "Jumpers" (quoted in Ira Nadel's book "Tom Stoppard: A Life")

A singular blend of gymnastics display, marital farce, murder mystery, British vaudeville, and philosophical inquiry into the nature of good, evil and God, the 1972 London hit "Jumpers" seemed surprising to everyone — including its young author, Tom Stoppard.

Stoppard has since cemented his status as a masterful dramatist with more widely accessible works, such as the scintillating "Arcadia" (recently performed here at the Capitol Hill Arts Center), the Oscar-honored movie script for "Shakespeare in Love" and the Russian historical epic "The Coast of Utopia," slated for a 2005 Broadway debut.

Yet quirky and confounding as it can be, "Jumpers" is getting a second wind again decades after its initial premiere at England's Old Vic Theatre.

A 2003 London revival, headed by British stage star Simon Russell Beale, also had a well-received run on Broadway last season. And ACT Theatre is launching its own treatment of "Jumpers" under the direction of longtime Stoppard aficionado (and former ACT artistic head) Jeff Steitzer.

This is the sort of brain-twisting Stoppard piece, however, that makes more sense with a bit of pre-show research. (Reading the script can't hurt, either.)

First, the title. "Jumpers" refers to both a morally slippery politician, Sir Archibald Jumper (played at ACT by R. Hamilton Wright) who takes command of a murder investigation, and to a team of high-flying philosopher-gymnasts.

The tale's moral center, however, is a philosophy professor, George Moore (here portrayed by David Pichette), who is in his den preparing a complex speech about the nature of God as a force for good, while his glamorous singer wife, Dotty (Erika Rolfsrud), has a breakdown in the bedroom.

You see, Dotty may (or may not) be involved in a murder that occurred during an election night victory bash for the Radical Liberal Party.

With its high-flown verbiage, acrobatic stunts and dreamy musical numbers, "Jumpers" can be a dazzling and frustrating exercise in arch gamesmanship.

Yet famed actress Diana Rigg, the original Dotty in 1972, defended Stoppard's freewheeling theatricality in the British magazine Plays and Players.

"Everything in this play is perfectly logical," Rigg declared. "Everything ties in, but it doesn't tie in the sequence that we, as theater-people, are used to. ... Tom expects his audience to lean forward in their seats and take note of absolutely everything because in order to understand the play it is necessary."

Along with the askew murder plot and semantic wizardry of "Jumpers," Stoppard also wants patrons to take note of some serious moral concerns.

As Stoppard scholar Thomas Whitaker wrote, the play adamantly critiques "a twentieth century witches' brew of technological power, metaphysical uncertainty, neurotic incapacity, and murderous indifference."

One might do well to bone up on the various schools of modern philosophy the erudite Stoppard drew on for "Jumpers": logical positivism, linguistic analysis, utilitarianism, empiricism, et al. Though in a keen staging, Stoppard's ethical points are evident — especially given the play's birthdate of 1972.

At that time, the "Is God dead?" debate was in full swing. Social mores and religion-based morals which had been upheld for centuries were under fire. Violent crime was on the rise. Humans had just done the previously unthinkable, by landing on the moon (an event referred to frequently in "Jumpers.") The institution of marriage was losing its primacy. And conventional politics (on both sides of the Atlantic) had grown tainted and suspect.

"Truths that have been taken on trust," concludes George Moore in the play, "they've never had edges before, there was no vantage point to stand on and see where they stopped."

If truths taken on faith no long matter, what does? Has moral altruism simply hit a dead end? And where does God fit in?

Questions like these may make "Jumpers" seem like a reactionary response to another era. Or, in the right hands, like a moral exploration that's more pertinent now than ever.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com