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What follows is a series of transformations of humans into pachyderms. People in tight suits and skirts and red ties start wearing leather. (Corinne Baudelot's costumes are complemented nicely by Yves Collet's set of gray-black platforms with a ramp on either side of the stage. When the ramps fold up, the actors are left stranded on them at precarious angles.)

By play's end, the haunting image of rhino heads in a pack appears through a smoky scrim, while Berenger, alone and with, at last, a quixotic sense of purpose, says, like Churchill, that he will never surrender.

At the risk of sounding glib, it's easy to chide those who don't stand up against Nazis. But the fascism of our times is far more intricate and international — as seductive as it is grounded in fear. Rhinocéros speaks to our age, too, but not in this museum-gallery production, which shows what seems in retrospect so evident and easy, rather than what's disconcerting and discomfiting not about who we were but about who we are.

It is, nonetheless, a pleasure to see international theater back at UCLA, to see this door opened once again. May it remain so.

RHINOCÉROS | By Eugene Ionesco | Presented by Théâtre de la Ville-Paris and CAP UCLA at Royce Hall | Closed | cap.ucla.edu

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