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| Christian Pumariega, Jordyn Dinatale, and Carolyn Braver. Photo by T. Charles Erickson |
An all-suffering mother. An abusive, racist father. A
sharp-tongued daughter who’s been told to get thee to a nunnery, another
daughter, this one earnest but a bit slow, and the youngest, a feisty,
Scout-like imp testing lesbian waters. Sounds like a casting call for a soap
opera, but it’s the line-up playwright Meghan Kennedy gives us in her Napoli, Brooklyn, which is receiving its
world premiere at Long Wharf Theatre in New Haven.
Set in Brooklyn circa 1960,
this kitchen drama is the woeful saga of the Muscolino family, with Dad and Mom
first generation Italian immigrants and their three daughters assimilated
Americans. As might be imagined, the Muscolino home is not a happy one, nor
does it provide for riveting drama, for the characters are stereotypical, their
plights ripped from the pages of a Days
of Our Lives script, and the vehicle for change is a deus ex machina in the form of an airliner that crashes into a
church (although you have to give credit to Eugene Lee, set designer, and Ben
Stanton, lighting designer, for the pyrotechnical crash – it certainly woke up
the country folk).
The primary problems with Napoli, directed by Gordon Edelstein, rest with the script, which
just lays on the problems a bit too thick and does little to get us to really
care about these characters. Thus, the cast is faced with bringing to life a
reality that just doesn’t connect. As the all-suffering mother Luda , Alyssa Bresnahan gives us a woman who, dominated by
her husband, expresses her love through cooking (and prays to an onion since
God doesn’t seem to be answering her prayers). Her performance is admirable,
even though she’s asked, in the play’s coda, to make decisions and say lines
you just can’t conceive of a first-generation Italian mother doing – at this
point there should have been a sign above the stage flashing MESSAGE! MESSAGE!
As the abusive, ever-so-macho Nic, the pater familias, Jason Kolotouros manages to be both macho and
menacing, although he seemed a bit uncomfortable with the Italian accent he has
to use to deliver his lines. Somewhat of a cardboard character in the first
act, he comes to life for the extended dining scene in the second act, a scene
in which the three daughters also seem to come into focus and have their say:
Vita (Carolyn Braver) gets to confront her father, Tina (Christina Pumariega)
finally finds her voice and her courage (a moment that elicited applause from
the opening-night audience) and Francesca (Jordyn Dinatale) ignites the fire
that forces Nic to finally back away, or back out.
Kennedy has also written in two minor characters who are
more statements than they are flesh and blood people. There’s Albert Duffy
(Graham Winton), an Irish butcher who loves Luda
from afar, and Celia Jones (Shirine Webb), a black woman who works with Tina at
a factory. What are the statements these two characters stand for? Well, there
was tension between the Irish and Italian immigrants, a love-hate relationship,
and tension between the Italian immigrants and African Americans. Yup. That’s
all true, but the characters seem to be after-thoughts, additions meant to make
the play more “meaningful.”
Finally, there’s Albert’s daughter, Connie (Ryann Shane),
love interest for young Francesca. Hers is perhaps the most difficult role to
bring to life, for this love interest, or puppy-love interest, has two
adolescents playing in a lesbian sandbox, not sure of their actions or desires.
This relationship, such as it is, is one of the weakest elements of the play,
mainly because it becomes the focal point of the play’s conclusion in which Luda issues a Declaration of Freedom for women to be who
they are, whatever that might entail. Remember, this is 1960. Luda prays to her
Catholic God (or her catholic Onion), yet she ultimately embraces Connie’s
relationship with Francesca (it’s never made clear exactly how Luda discerns
this relationship) and basically tells Connie as she hands her money: “Go for
it, girl!” One might ask, “Really?”
Watching Napoli, Brooklyn you can’t help but hear Kennedy saying to
herself: “I want to deal with this and I want to deal with that and then I want
to deal with…” It’s the intention to deal with so many issues that keeps this
play from soaring. It not only wears its issues on its sleeve, it wears them as
shackles on its wings.
Napoli, Brooklyn
runs through March 12. For tickets or more information call 203-787-4282 or go
to www.longwharf.org.
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