Angst in an Elevator

"Stuck Elevator" -- Long Wharf Theatre -- Thru June 29

“So there’s this Chinese guy, an illegal alien.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Works for a Chinese restaurant in the Big Apple. Rides his bike delivering take-out.”

            “Yeah, so?”

            “And he’s making this delivery and he gets stuck in an elevator.”

            “Okay. So why are you telling me this? What’s the punch line?”

            “Well, it’s a musical.”

            “I don’t get it.”

            “Nothing to get – it’s a musical called ‘Stuck Elevator.’”

            “About a Chinese delivery guy who gets stuck in an elevator?”

            “Right.”

            “That’s it?”

            “Well, not really.”

            “Chinese guy stuck in an elevator…and he sings?”

            “Yeah.”

            “You’re kidding, right?”

            “No.”

And neither is this year’s International Festival of Arts & Ideas which, in association with Long Wharf Theatre, is staging “Stuck Elevator,” which runs through June 29 at Long Wharf’s Stage II. The musical, with music by Byron Au Yong and libretto by Aaron Jafferis, is staged with an engaging simplicity, with a set that consists of a metal frame standing in for the elevator and, as props, three bicycles and a rolling cart that sets up the restaurant scenes.

Yet, during the ninety or so minutes of the show, “Stuck Elevator” deals not only with immigration issues but familial ties, the loneliness of the immigrant adrift in an alien culture, the dreams we all have about bettering ourselves, and the fears that we might be condemned to live a life that is, at best, beside the point, an invisible-man existence in a world that refuses to acknowledge our humanity or hear our whimpers, wails and screams.

The elevator, as my play-going partner pointed out, is a metaphor for the life that Guang (Julius Ahn) finds himself in as he labors to pay off the substantial debt he owes to those who transported him and his nephew illegally to America in the hold of a cargo ship – said nephew dying in transit. From the moment Ahn appears on-stage you sense that his character is man weighed down by crushing burdens, a man trapped, unable to break free from the financial and emotional ties that bind him.

As Guang waits for someone (hopefully a repairman – not a policeman!) to come and release him, he fantasizes about his life in America and the family he left behind in China. As he does, the musical opens up to give us scenes at the Chinese restaurant that Guang works for, ruled by a harridan, the owner’s wife, played by Francis Jue (who punctuates dialogue with insistent knife-chopping of helpless vegetables), as well as heart-felt moments as his wife, Ming (the lovely Marie-Francis Arcilla) and his son Wanh Yue (Raymond Lee) yearn to be reunited with him, and his worries that his co-worker Marco (a tremendously engaging Joel Perez) is getting all of his tips while he is stuck in the elevator.

But there’s more, for this cast of four take on many roles. Arcilla is not only Guang’s wife, she is part of a chorus (along with the other actors) that worries Guang about his bladder (he is, after all, stuck in an elevator – for several days), as well as a waitress, a fortune-cookie monster (don’t ask—just go and see) and an Atlantic City chorus girl. There are muggers, a rapper, and an “Otis” (inventor of the elevator) mechanical monster, a cynical INS agent, security guards – once immigrants themselves, now heartless persecutors of those who seek to find what they have gained: a rung on the ladder of respectability and acceptance – and the family left behind, an extended family all yearning to come to America whose possible transit falls on Guang’s shoulders, a nagging burden brought to life in a scene where chopsticks are used as emotional daggers that draw emotional blood as Guang tries to meet his commitments and yet exist, somehow, as a man.

I’m not giving anything away to report that Guang eventually escapes the elevator, but it is a bittersweet release, for as he trudges off stage you sense he carries with him all of the burdens he brought onto the stage at the start of the show…and yet, there is a staged moment near the end of the musical where he is bicycling down imaginary streets and there is hope in his eyes, a hope that may be eventually crushed, yet it is there all the same, a hope engendered by the human spirit, a spirit that, consigned to a pit, always looks up and sees the moon.

A "South Pacific" Without an Edge

"South Pacific" -- Summer Theatre of New Canaan -- Thru July 13

                               The sailors proclaim, "There's Nothing Like a Dame."

Over the past few years, the Summer Theatre of New Canaan has successfully transported its audiences to venues as varied as Camelot, Victorian England and biblical Egypt, and this year, for its opening production, it takes its audience to the South Pacific during World War II, but somehow, for some reason, the trip seems to lack something. That’s not to say that STONC’s production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “South Pacific,” a musical based on James Michener’s “Tales of the South Pacific,” is not engaging or entertaining. It is. However, there seems to be something missing, some ineffable quality, some spark that turns an evening of musical theater into something magical, more than the sum of its parts.

As directed by Allegra Libonati and choreographed by Doug Shankman, individual numbers in the show shine, as well they should, for the cast is, by and large, stellar, yet these moments stand out as “the best of South Pacific” efforts, not part of an on-going story into which the musical number have been woven. The reason for this disconnect is hard to put your finger on, but it’s there. Perhaps it’s inherent in the musical itself. Perhaps not. It seems a matter of chemistry. It often feels as if the individual cast members have rehearsed separately…they are very good on their own, but together their efforts simply don’t mesh.

                            Janelle Robinson as Bloody Mary tries to sell her wares.

So, let’s deal with the characters, on their own. The standout among many excellent performances is Janelle Robinson’s Bloody Mary. She is dead-on, giving us a native wheeler-dealer interested in marrying off her daughter Liat (a lithe and lovely Kim Wong) to the best man on the market. And her individual numbers? “Bali Ha’i” is exquisite, as is “Happy Talk.” Her body language, her accent, and her arch, sharp, often biting characterization of a woman making the best of whatever opportunities are available all go to create a complete, believable character.

                     Tiffan Borelli wants to "Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair."

The same can be said of the delightful Tiffan Borelli, who gives us a multi-level Ensign Nellie Forbush, a young lady who, early on in the show, becomes romantically involved with a French planter, Emile De Becque (Daniel Klein), thus creating one of two liaisons that deal with mixed-race relations and prejudice that are at the heart of the show.

Again, Borelli, like Robinson, gives us some wonderful moments, often backed by a talented ensemble of nurses and sailors. Staging of “Cockeyed Optimist,” “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right out of My Hair,” Wonderful Guy” and “Honey Bun” allows her to deliver the goods, as does Klein’s take on “Some Enchanted Evening” and “This Nearly was Mine.” The problem is, it feels as if they are in love with other people, not each other, which adds to the disconnect.

                         Daniel Klein and Tiffan Borelli in STONC's "South Pacific."

There are other stand-out moments, especially the male ensemble’s delivery of “There is Nothing Like a Dame,” featuring Luther Billis, a Sgt. Bilko type (before there was a Sgt. Bilko) nicely played by Nick Reynolds, and Jason Michael Evans’ “Younger Than Springtime” and “You’ve Got to the Carefully Taught,” the numbers dealing with the young Marine pilot’s love for and eventual rejection of Liat, a rejection based on racial prejudice.

So, if all of these numbers are so admirably staged, then why does one come away feeling less than fulfilled? Well, the musical is set in the wartime South Pacific, and the non-musical scenes dealing with tactics, strategy and the daily grind and desperation of war simply fall flat. When the cast stops singing and starts dealing with the war, well, it feels as if you’re watching re-runs of “McHale’s Navy.” There’s simply not much at stake, so the denouement, which should strike hard at the emotions, evokes nothing more than a shrug as a noted plot point is delivered.

Perhaps that goes to the heart of what really stopped at least one person from totally embracing this production. There is a sharpness, an edge, a special tang to relationships that might, at any moment, be cruelly, violently ended as lovers are torn apart by the surge of cataclysmic events beyond their control. As good as the music, singing and dancing is, without this undercurrent of pending tragedy, this “South Pacific” is, well, a delightful revue, pleasant but not riveting.

“South Pacific” runs through July 13. For tickets or more information call 203-966-4634 or go to www.stonc.org

Two Hours With a Bore

"The Show-Off" -- Westport Country Playhouse -- Thru June 29

       Mia Barron and Jayne Houdyshell in “The Show-Off." Photo by Carol Rosegg

           Apparently, insufferable bores are the same no matter when or where you come across them, be it in the Roman Senate, the court of Louis XIV, in the ante-bellum US Senate, or in a house in Philadelphia circa 1924. They preen, they boast, the find themselves fascinating and, regrettably, they never shut up. Such is one Aubrey Piper, a clerk for the Pennsylvania Railroad who descends upon the Fisher family via an enamored daughter and, like a barnacle or a bad penny, just can’t be gotten rid of. This is the thrust of George Kelly’s dramedy, “The Show-Off,” which recently opened at the Westport Country Playhouse under the direction of Nicholas Martin.

            The basic problem with writing…and staging...a play whose main character is someone you would only invite once to your house is that, well, you are a captive audience, and if Aubrey’s type is a bit off-putting to you, well, there’s a little bit of squirming in the seat over the almost two-and-a-half hours it takes for the play to leisurely works its way to a foregone conclusion.

            That Aubrey is, in fact, so irritating actually does Will Rogers (yes, that’s his name) great credit, for it takes a great deal of talent to create such a quirky, jerky, off-putting character, and Rogers does it exquisitely, his body language and voice modulation such that from the moment he comes on stage (actually, even before you see him) you immediately dislike him. Here, you say to yourself, is a man you would definitely not go bowling with. However, the role is something of a one-trick pony, and were it not for Mrs. Fisher, the mater familias, played by the veteran actress Jayne Houdyshell, the evening might seem interminable, for Houdyshell’s interpretation of the much-put-upon mother is a gem. A wise actress, she knows how to get the most out of a look, a subtle gesture, a shrug, a grimace. Those interested in learning the trade would do well to get a ticket just to study her performance.

            There is also good work done by Mia Barron, who plays Mrs. Fisher’s married daughter, Clara, and Clea Alsip, who plays the aforementioned Piper-smittened daughter Amy. Alsip has the harder task of the two ladies, since she must get the audience to believe that she would actually fall in love with someone with such limited appeal as Piper.

                 Will Rogers and Jayne Houdyshell in George Kelly’s “The Show-Off.”                 Photo by Carol Rosegg

            

            The play’s length works against itself, and this falls on the shoulders of Kelly, who felt it necessary to deliver background and plot points once, twice, thrice, and give us characters such as a workingman named Mr. Gill (Nat DeWolf) whose function, other than as a delivery man of sorts, is never made clear, though he’s given quite a bit of dialogue (much of it repetitious). There are also certain pieces of stage business that are never truly explained, chief among them involving Clara’s husband, Frank (Robert Eli), who has a tendency to drift off, staring into space. It’s done often enough to draw attention to itself but its relevance remains to be seen.

            There’s also a bit of a disconnect late in the second act when Mrs. Fisher should be focused on the heart wrenching news that has just arrived but, with the appearance of Piper, focuses on something a wife of many years would, in a moment of crisis, pay little attention to, especially since it deals with Piper, whom she disdains.

            All in all, “The Show-Off” takes a long time to travel a very short distance. It’s pleasant enough, but it was written long before sitcoms came on the scene and trained audiences to expect rapid-fire one-liners and plot resolution in 30 minutes. Thus, many in the audience may experience a bit of attention-deficit as they try to adjust to comedy written for an era that moved just a bit slower than the one we are living in now.

            “The Show-Off” runs through June 29. For tickets or more information call 203-227-4177 or go to www.westportplayhouse.org.

A Dark and Discomfiting "Cabaret"

"Cabaret" -- Playhouse on Park -- Thru July 21

                     Brendan Norton and the cast of "Cabaret." Photo by Rich Wagner

For those familiar only with the slick, bowdlerized 1972 movie version of “Cabaret,” you should consider making the trip up to West Hartford to take in Playhouse on Park’s current production of the John Kander/Frank Ebb musical. It will open your eyes.

            Last year, MTC Mainstage proved that a venue with a limited stage could produce a gripping, engaging production of “Cabaret,” and Playhouse on Park has confirmed this with its gritty, sensual and very intimate take on the story of Sally Bowles (Erin Lindsey Krom), the toast of Mayfair working at the Kit Kat Klub in Weimar-era Berlin, where the Emcee (Brendan Norton) holds sway over a bevy of dancers and singers, both male and female, who can no longer spell the word “virginity.” Into this demimonde wanders Cliff (Jake Loewenthal), a somewhat naïve American writer manqué who soon becomes entranced by and entrenched in Sally’s world, a hedonistic environment that is beginning to darken as the shadows of Nazism swirl and take form.

            This is an up-front, in-your-face production that seeks to immerse you in Sally’s tainted world from the moment you walk into the foyer, which is dimly lit and, with the clutch of theatergoers mingling, somewhat (intentionally) claustrophobic. If your eyes wander a bit, you will see lightly clad actors and actresses engaging in various activities not normally seen in a theater foyer. The overt sensuality continues once you enter the main theater, for there you will find other cast members mingling with the audience, presenting wiggling posteriors and intriguing décolletages. If you are easily embarrassed you might devote your total attention to the ads in the program until the lights dim, but even then you cannot escape, for director Sean Harris and choreographer Darlene Zoller won’t allow it. Like it or not, you’re there at the Kit Kat Klub, so you best just sit back and enjoy the depravity. Obviously, this is not a show for the young folks.

            At times, Zoller has the actors and actresses lay on (pun intended) the sexual gestures just a bit too heavily – perhaps here less would have been more – but the message is, if nothing else, clear. And what is the message? Well, as with all things taken to excess, there comes a point when what was intriguing and stimulating becomes mechanical and soul-shriving; the eyes go dead.

            Set against the decadence of the Kit Kat Klub is the boarding house run by Fraulein Schneider (Kathleen Huber), where Cliff finds residence among the other roomers, including Fraulein Kost (Ashley Ford), who patriotically services as many sailors as she can, and Herr Schultz (Damian Buzzerio), a greengrocer who also happens to be a Jew.

            What this production highlights is the moral morass normal people are confronted with when faced with institutionalized evil, and how fear can affect human relationships. Decisions are made by the central characters. Cliff, initially co-opted by Ernst (Conor Hamill) to work unknowingly for the Nazis for money, pays a physical and emotional price when he rejects the totalitarian philosophy. Herr Schultz opts for denial, and pays the ultimate price. Fraulein Schneider confronts the reality of those who are frail and powerless and eventually allows evil to triumph out of fear. Sally chooses illusion over reality, and the amoral Emcee is eventually caught up in and destroyed by that which he taunted and jeered at. In essence, the message is simple: if you do not act to defend humanity against its baser urges you will be consumed by them.

            In this depraved, dangerous environment there are moments of light. The tentative romance between Fraulein Schneider and Herr Schultz gives us “Married,” an achingly beautiful duet that captures the hope that springs eternal, and when Sally tells Cliff that she is pregnant and, instead of rejecting her, he embraces her, “Maybe This Time” gives us a woman who senses that things just might be different…this time. Yet these flickering flames are eventually doused by the darker moments that capture venality (“Money”), prejudice (“If You Could See Her” – they adhere to the original lyrics, which deliver a stinger at the end of the song), decadence (“Two Ladies”), despair (“What Would You Do?”) and nationalism used as a tool to inflame (“Tomorrow Belongs to Me”).

            Setting the tone for this dark tale, enhanced by Marcus Abbotts eerie, evocative lighting, is Norton’s Emcee, who looks like he could have wandered off the set of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” Tall, lean almost to the point of emaciation, and sporting somewhat ghoulish make-up, he prances and cavorts, gloats and leers, and fondles anything that moves on two legs. He oversees both the doings at the Klub and many of the emotional moments among Frau Schneider’s borders, a dark, lurking presence that puts the lie to any hopes these people might have of salvation.

                     Jake Loewenthal and Erin Lindsey Krom. Photo by Rich Wagner.

Krom’s Sally is perky enough, although it is only with her final number, “Cabaret,” that we truly get to see the fear and uncertainty that lurks beneath the bright, brash surface. Playing off her, Lowenthal’s Cliff is solid and earnest, with just the right touch of American naïveté. As the doomed, elderly lovers Huber and Buzzerio create some of the most touching moments in the show – you believe they really are who they are portraying and hence feel all the more for them at the end.

If you decide to come to the cabaret – and you should – be prepared to be entertained, but also be prepared to be challenged and just a bit discomfited. “Mary Poppins” it ain’t.

The show runs through July 21. For tickets or more information call 860-523-5900 X 10 or go to www.playhouseonpark.org.

Can You Say "Cute"?

"Good News" -- Goodspeed Opera House -- Through June 22

                         Tessa Faye as Babe tells the football team "I Want To Be Bad."
                         Photo by Diane Sobolewski

Some people like to go deep-sea diving and others are content to splash around in a wading pool. Both groups have fun, but it’s a different order of fun. If you are of the wading pool group, then “Good News,” currently playing at Goodspeed Opera House, is just your ticket. The water’s not too deep and all that’s demanded of you is that you simply sit back and occasionally wiggle your toes.

The musical, which has been adapted by Jeremy Desmon from a book by Laurence Schwab, B. G. DeSylva and Frank Mandel, debuted on Broadway in 1927, the same year that Jerome Kern’s “Showboat” opened. The two shows couldn’t have been more different, for whereas “Showboat” dealt with topics that bedeviled America (prejudice, racism), “Good News” focused on the of lot of college students caught up in the blithe inanity of the Roaring Twenties, a sub-culture that embraced booze, sex, suggestive dancing…and football…as the primary goals of life. “Showboat” became iconic; “Good News”…well, there was a 1947 film starring Peter Lawford and June Allyson. It was cute.

                             The cast of "Good News." Photo by Diane Sobolewski

And “cute” is the operative word for Goodspeed’s production of this light-as-a-feather musical under the direction of Vince Pesce, who is also responsible for the energetic choreography. The story line is about as basic as it can get: Tom Marlowe (Ross Lekites), a football star at Taft College, is dating perky, blond Pat Bingham (Lindsay O’Neil), a co-ed focused not only on the BIG game but the dance to follow, an event that, she is sure, will provide the venue for Tom’s proposal. Alas, Tom has been a bit laggard in his studies and has failed astronomy, a class taught by Professor Kenyon (Beth Glover). Shockingly, he’s ineligible to play football (where are this college’s priorities?). Coach Bill Johnson (Mark Zimmnerman), informed of the problem by his assistant, Pooch (Max Perlman), asks the good professor (who was an old college flame) to give Tom another chance. She agrees to let Tom take a make-up exam and Coach solicits the help of the professor’s star pupil, the studious Connie (Chelsea Morgan Stock) to tutor astronomy-challenged Tom. You can guess what follows.

There’s also a sub-plot of sorts, and it captures the essence of what’s right (and possibly wrong) about this production…or the musical itself, written for an era that is almost a century in the past. Sexually liberated (or just perpetually in heat) Babe O’Day (Tessa Faye) has broken up with the intellectually-challenged Beef Saunders (Myles J. McHale) and is now on the prowl for a new man. She sets her sights on Bobby Randall (Barry Shafrin) with a vengeance. Essentially, she stalks him, flaunting and flirting, much to the confusion of Bobby, who fears Beef’s wrath will descend at any moment.

Yes, it’s all light-hearted fun, but it is so alien to America circa 2013 that its aged attempts at being risqué seem, if nothing else, slightly off-putting. However, Goodspeed is renowned for boarding shows that, if nothing else, are energy personified, and “Good News” certainly is that, with a cast that burns calories by the minute, but there’s a vacuum lurking beneath the surface shimmer of this show, an emotional emptiness that can’t be hidden by the patina of perkiness evinced by the entire cast. In essence, “Good News” is just too cute for words.

Under Pesce’s direction, most of this talented cast seems bent on asking the audience, “Do you see what I’m doing right now? Do you get the joke? Do you understand I’m happy…mad...sad?” Gestures are broad, reactions are exaggerated, and emotions are parsed down to the lowest common denominator. Yes, the book is simple, but that doesn’t mean it has to be played as if all the characters are simple.

So, if you’re a wading-pool sort of person, “Good News” should certainly satisfy your toe-wiggling needs. The song-and-dance numbers will make you smile and, of course, there’s a happy ending. However, if you ask something more of a musical than toe-wiggling, you might want to search out where “Next to Normal” is currently playing in Connecticut.

“Good News” runs through June 22. For tickets or more information 860-873-8668 or go to www.goodspeed.org

To Be or Not to Be...A WASP

Black Tie -- Square One Theatre -- Thru June 1

                                              John Bachelder and David Victor

It’s a difficult task to walk in your father’s shoes or, for that matter, wear his tuxedo, (excuse me, dinner jacket), or so playwright A. R. Gurney would have it in his 2011 “Black Tie,” currently on the boards at Stratford’s Square One Theatre Company. Since it’s Gurney you know we’re going to be in WASP-land and we’re going to see what makes this specific sub-species flit, fidget and (only occasionally) sting, and though there will be a bit of dissection, there will also be a moment or two of…well…on the other hand, perhaps they aren’t as bad as all that. No surprises here in this workmanlike production that is slow to start fluttering its wings and is held back from soaring by, in many cases, actors delivering lines in an overly studied manner. Thus, Square One offers a pleasant enough evening of theater, under the direction of its artistic director Tom Holehan, that holds the audience’s interest but never seems to totally engage both mind and heart.

What’s the premise? Well, Curtis (David Victor) and Mimi (Janet Rathert) have a son, Teddy, (Jim Buffone), who is about to get married to a young lady named Maya, and the couple is hosting the pre-ceremony rehearsal dinner in the Ticonderoga Room of a somewhat seedy hotel (it’s the only hotel that has enough rooms to accommodate the guests). The only problem, at least initially, is Victor is Dad-haunted, for not only has he chosen to wear his father’s tux…dinner jacket…to the event, he is holding an ongoing conversation with his deceased Father (John Bachelder) as he prepares for the event. Dad, also dressed in a tux, is there in the room with him, commenting on everything from the proper name for their formal eveningwear to how to keep the younger guests from getting pie-eyed, all the while quoting Byron, Chaucer and Conrad in a Polonius-like manner. Dad is, in essence, an insufferable prig, and middle-aged Victor is still the dutiful son, applauding (or at least not contradicting) whenever Dad issues forth with another bromide.

There’s not much spark or juice here, especially since the actors seem to be playing the “You say your line then I’ll say mine” game. This delivery of lines rather than creation of conversations continues when Mimi comes upon the scene and is not broken until late in this one-act play when Teddy, clothed in a bathrobe, knocks on the door of his parent’s hotel room to tell of troubles brewing between the lovebirds. It is in this extended scene that we actually hear and see people rather than actors interacting. Elise (Alisson Wood), the couple’s daughter, does a bit to enliven some moments, but the actress has a habit of delivering every other line with here hands raised, palms turned inward, fingers splayed, that becomes distracting only because it seems to serve all emotional purposes…it’s a visual “Like…I mean…”

Oddly enough, the play’s most vivid character, Maya, the bride-to-be, is never seen, but her shenanigans as a mini-bridezilla and her take on the quirks, idiosyncrasies and prejudices of her intended’s milieu are reported on by Elsie and Teddy and, after a while, you ache to have her appear, if only to stir up the Brahmin-folk a bit more.

What the play is really about, or attempts to be about, is shifting standards and the ability (or inability) to change, as well as acceptance or rejection of the rules-to-live by inculcated in the young at such an early age that it takes decades to even challenge them, but it all seems surface flutter. In the end, there’s really nothing more up for grabs than the success or failure of a rehearsal dinner.

Curtis’s final rejection of his father’s black tie and dinner jacket holds no greater import than that of a dieter’s rejection of a Twinkie…because he does it without the Dad-ghost present to comment on or react to the rejection, something that the play has been building towards but, alas, does not deliver. In the end, father-son voices are never raised, there is no confrontation, hence no catharsis for either the characters or the audience.

“Black Tie” runs through June 1. For tickets or more information call 203-375-8778 or go to www.squareonetheatre.com.

What Happened Next

Clybourne Park -- Long Wharf Theatre -- Thru June 2

                                Alice Ripley, LeRoy McClain and Melle Powers
                                All photos by T. Charles Erickson

Near the end of Lorraine Hansberry’s 1959 breakthrough play, “A Raisin in the Sun,” Karl Lindner, a representative from the homeowner’s association of a white neighborhood, visits a black family, the Youngers, who have just bought a house in his exclusively white enclave. He has come to essentially bribe them not to move in. Mama Younger rejects his offer, and as the frustrated Linder leaves he says to her, “I sure hope you people know what you are doing.” They do, and they don’t, but they are determined to move into a house located in Chicago’s Clybourne Park.

As the lights go down on “A Raisin in the Sun,” questions arise. What happened to the Younger family after they moved? Why was the owner of the house willing to sell to a black family? What was the impact on Clybourne Park when the Youngers moved in? Well, years after the play opened, a young man saw the film version of Hansberry’s play while in the seventh grade, and the experience stayed with him. That young man, Bruce Norris, grew up to become a playwright, and in 2010 his play, “Clybourne Park,” premiered at Playwrights Horizons in New York. Subsequently, it went on to win the 2011 Pulitzer Prize for Drama and the 2012 Tony Award for Best Play, and it is now playing at Long Wharf Theatre. If you have any interest in live theater, then I suggest you wend your way down to New Haven, because if you don’t you may miss one of the finest productions of the season.

What is “Clybourne Park” about? Well, to play off the title of a famous Raymond Carver short story, it deals with, among other things, what we talk about when we talk about race, and, as with Carver’s story (which was about “love”), when we talk about race the conversation is often elliptical. In other words, we dance around the issue, speaking in euphemisms, fully aware that what we really want to say might be deemed offensive, so we pull our punches and, in the process, tie ourselves up into a conversational knot even Alexander the Great would have difficulty cutting through. Such is the thrust of both acts of this dynamic, biting, funny play that never ceases to entertain as it also challenges and disturbs.

Under the sharp, insightful direction of Long Wharf’s associate artistic director Eric Ting, who is not afraid to have his actors bite into each other’s lines, the stellar ensemble cast creates moments of tension tinged with hilarity…or…hilarity tinged with tension. It’s difficult, sometimes, to parse what you are actually feeling as each of the two acts rapidly unfolds, for Norris deftly plays on the audience’s emotions, using humor, pathos and confrontation to create a roller-coaster ride that evokes laughter one moment, shock the next.

The two acts are mirrors of each other, and intentionally so. In the first, which takes place in 1959, Norris focuses on the white family that, unwittingly, has sold their house to a black family. In the opening scene, the father, Russ (Daniel Jenkins), is listlessly leafing through a copy of “National Geographic” and eating spoonfuls of Neapolitan ice cream. His wife, Bev (Alice Ripley), concerned by his lethargy three days before they are going to move, engages him in a conversation about why his ice cream is called what it is. What follows is an extended and, at the time, apparently somewhat aimless chat about the names of cities and the collective names of the people who live in these cities. The conversation seems initially beside the point, as in, let’s get the play going, but what Norris is doing here is establishing one of the play’s basic themes: the names we give to things are important; what we call people is important.

                                                           Daniel Jenkins

As the conversation unfolds it slowly becomes apparent that there is a dark cloud hovering over this couple involving the death of their son. Bev wants to move on but Russ can’t. He is mired in guilt and remorse. Into this tense atmosphere, Norris inserts a black maid, Francine (Melle Powers), her husband Albert (Leroy McClain), Jim (Jimmy Davis), a minister and friend of the family, and Karl (Alex Moggridge), the same Karl who in Hansberry’s play tried to bribe the Younger family, and Karl’s deaf wife, Betsy (Lucy Owen). 

                                                         Alex Moggridge

What follows is a confluence of emotions dealing with race, guilt, war and, of course, the words we use as we try to speak to each other through the cheese cloth of social propriety. As the act unfolds, what were embers at the start burst into flames and the audience is swept up into a conflagration of emotions that threatens to become a wildfire. It’s heady, engaging stuff. I sensed the audience members edging forward in their seats as the human beings on stage attempted to control their fear, anger, frustration and urge to strike out. Yet, to playwright Norris’s credit, and Ting’s, there is laughter interspersed with the gasps. Attend to what is happening and it is emotionally draining.

                                                             Lucy Owen

The second act, as noted, is a mirror of the first, but we are on the other side of the mirror, for it is now 2009, and Claybourne Park has gone through many changes since the Younger family moved in. White families fled to the suburbs and as they did more black families moved in, and crime, drugs and violence followed. The neighborhood deteriorated and property values plummeted but in 2009 the gentry has grown tired of commuting back into the city so Claybourne Park is once again becoming prime real estate. The house that the Younger family moved into some 50 years ago is owned by a black couple who are in the process of selling it to a white couple…gentrification is on the rise.

The second act starts with idle conversation, as did the first, but once again there is underlying tension as the white couple, Steve (Moggridge) and Lindsay (Owen), accompanied by their lawyer Kathy (Ripley) and the real estate agent, Steve (Davis), review terms of the sale with property owners Kevin (McClain) and Lena (Powers), as handyman Dan (Jenkins) works outside to build a fish pool for the new owners. Again, phatic conversation soon becomes heated as the characters delve into motivations and rooted prejudices. Emotions escalate as the veneer of social correctness is shattered and age-old racial conflicts, parsed in new terminology, inflame, while Dan digs in the back garden, eventually uncovering a trunk that will lead to the play’s coda.

As with the first act, so with the second: a seemingly simple situation is revealed to be fraught with racial underpinnings that evoke sharp emotions, and once again the audience members are pulled forward as the jousting intensifies. The terms of the argument have changed, but the argument’s essence remains the same: how, in America, do whites and blacks find a common ground? How can members of each race shed the literal and figurative chains of the past and move forward?

Difficult as it is to single out any particular performance, the ensemble being as strong as it is, in the first act, the eye is drawn to Jenkins’ Russ, who is a smoldering volcano of emotions threatening to erupt at any moment, while Moggridge’s Karl is a wonder to behold as he walks a tightrope tethered at one end by racism and at the other by politesse. In the second act, Owen comes to the fore, giving us a pregnant (she has the body language down perfectly), oh-so politically correct urban sophisticate jousting with Powers’ Lena, equally sharp-tongued, who also volleys with Moggridge’s Steve, again charged with walking the tightrope.

After the white heat of the play’s closing moments, the coda comes as a reminder of the defining moment that drove Russ and Bev to put their house on the market, which allowed the Younger family to move into Clybourne Park, which was the catalyst for all that follows. It is a fitting denouement to an evening of intelligent, sharply written and superbly acted theater.

“Clybourne Park” runs through June 2. For tickets or more information call 203-787-4282 or go to www.longwharf.org