Art Isn't Easy

"Orange and Yellow" by Mark Rothko

Back in 1931, the Westport Country Playhouse’s inaugural season, several plays were presented in repertory, that is, several plays alternated daily. This also occurred in the 1932 and 1935 seasons, but the repertory concept was soon abandoned and wasn’t attempted again until the mid-1960s. That’s about to change this year, for the Playhouse will be opening its 2016 season with two plays in repertory, Red, by John Logan, and Art, by Yasmina Reza, in a translation by Christopher Hampton. Both plays won Tonys for Best Play, Art in 1998 and Red in 2010.

Yasmina Reza

John Logan

The idea of attempting this has been gestating for several years, and when Mark Lamos, the Playhouse’s artistic director, who is also directing both plays, read the scripts he believed there was a compelling reason to present them in tandem.

Mark Lamos

In its simplest form, Art is about how we evaluate and quantify art as both commodity and possession, while Red focuses on the mystique of creating art.

In the style of Reza’s other well-known play, God of Carnage, Art begins innocently enough with Serge (to be played by John Skelley) buying a painting for an exorbitant amount, a painting created by an artist named Antrios (based on the real-life painter Robert Ryman).

"Series # 17 (White)" -- Robert Ryman

He believes his friends, Marc (Benton Greene) and Yvan (Sean Dugan), will approve of his acquisition. When Serge urges Marc to look at the painting “from this angle,” Marc’s response is: “You paid two hundred thousand francs for this shit?” The “shit,” as it were, is a painting that is, well, white, or white-on-white – think lines of milk poured on a field of snow. Yvan’s response is relative: when he is with Marc he agrees the painting is worthless, when he is with Serge he approves. This monochromatic work of art will be the catalyst for a testing of friendship and heated discussions about what we value and why we value it.

Mark Rothko in his studio. Photo by Henry Elkan

Set in the late 50s, Red brings us inside an artist’s studio – Mark Rothko’s studio, to be specific. Much like Ryman, Rothko is, although he shuns the description, an abstract expressionist, but his paintings are anything but monochromatic. As Serge urged Marc to see his prized painting from a different “angle,” Rothko (Stephen Rowe) asks his new assistant, Ken (Patrick Andrews), “What do you see?”

The casts of"Art" and "Red," from left. Benton Greene, John Skelley, Stephen Rose, Sean Dugan, Patrick Andrews, and Mark Lamos, director. Photo by Peter Chenot 

 

Rothko has been commissioned to paint a series of murals to be hung in the Four Seasons restaurant, which is to be nested inside the Seagram’s building currently under construction. Ken, an artist himself, is initially nothing more than a gofer, running out to buy cigarettes and mixing paints, but he soon begins to challenge Rothko’s artistic theories and the integrity of producing art for a commercial venue.

While the color white is central to Art, it is, as the play’s title suggests, red that is central to Logan’s play, for not only does Rothko provide both a philosophical and psychological evaluation of Matisse’s painting, “Red Studio,” in a revealing moment he tells Ken: "There is only one thing I fear in life, my friend... One day the black will swallow the red."

"Red Studio" by Henri Matisse

It is challenging enough to board one play, but to prepare two at the same time can be somewhat daunting. Recently, I met with Lamos at Theatre Row Studios in Manhattan, where he is rehearsing both plays, to talk with him about the decision to return to the repertory format, the challenges inherent, and his take on the two plays’ synergy.

My initial question for Lamos was “Why?”

He smiled, shrugged, and said, “I though it would be interesting, that’s all.” He went on to explain: “We read both plays for season consideration over the years and somehow, two years ago, it just coalesced as an idea: why don’t we try to do them together and see if they speak to each other.” In essence, the decision, as Lamos put it, “was just a little bit of a caprice.”

The decision, however, was not without its challenges. Lamos initially downplayed the task. “It’s not yet as difficult as I thought it might be,” he said, “but I’ve been gearing up for it for quite awhile. I think the one area I’m feeling a little challenged is wishing we had just a little more rehearsal time for one of them.” Lamos declined to name which of the two plays he was referring to. “You know,” he explained, “it’s like having two children. One needs a little more TLC. I’m also finding it (referring to the play in need of a bit more “tender loving care”) just a little bit more of a challenge as a director, which I knew would happen, but I’m having to think about the play – I’m having to overturn how I thought about it and come to another understanding of it as we are working on it.”

The initial idea that the two plays would “talk” to each other is still in place, but as Lamos works with the actors, he has started to gain a greater appreciation for one of the plays. “I’m very impressed with Red,” he said. “I’m more impressed every day. I just find the themes of the play are very relevant to my work and the way I think about art and the way I think about making art, and the philosophy behind artists’ work. All of this I find very exciting to work on every day. Even thought it’s fictionalized, you’re in the room with Mark Rothko, this titan, who thinks about what he makes in such a powerful way and with so many ramifications: music and philosophy and religion. All of them come into play and they’re just great fun to ‘chew on’ with the actors as we get deeper and deeper into it.”

Turning to the other play, Art, Lamos noted that “what’s wonderful is the almost dance-like quality of the words. It’s ‘Boulevard,’ French theater,” he said, referring to a style of theater that emerged in France in the 18^th century and became associated with the bourgeoisie, with dialogue that is realistic but often set in a somewhat hyper-realistic situation with the intent of surprising the audience.

“The dialogue is elegant, light of touch, and finding that tone is very exciting when it happens,” Lamos said, “and it’s a real chamber piece, it’s a trio. The actors have to understand that they are playing the same music all of the time even as the key changes and the rhythm changes. That’s fascinating. It’s much more of an ensemble play than Red is.”

As for the plays, so different in style, speaking to each other, Lamos made these points. “Red begins with the words, ‘What do you see?’ and the two characters are made to look, to constantly evaluate what they are making and what they are perceiving, and in Art the characters are made  to look as well, and they jump to conclusions. Both paintings – the painters in both plays -- are pretty much of the same school – creating overall abstractions that are very sensual and extremely abstract, for better or worse, and with lots of strange use of color here and there. So both plays are about looking at art and in both plays, art has this enormous effect on the five men in the two plays. It pushes them apart, it brings them together, it causes them to reevaluate what they are looking at, it causes them to reevaluate their relationships with each other; they’re constantly having to adjust themselves to art.”

 However, there’s something else going on in the two plays, which only have male characters. Lamos addressed this point as well. “Both plays are also very much about male relationships and how men react to each other, how they deal with each other, how their egos drive them. So a lot of what is very interesting to work on is the ‘maleness’ of the plays, the ‘maleness’ that the paintings bring forth in terrible ways or good ways.”

Both productions are in periods of gestation, and a lot of work still has to be done, some of it awaiting the moment when the rehearsals move from Manhattan to the stage at Westport. For example, it is there that certain decisions about how to handle the transitions in Art – there are no true scene changes – will be dealt with. Lamos’s original thoughts were to handle these changes with sound cues or subtle lighting changes. His tech crew suggested that the actors themselves will be able to handle it. It will be worked out in the tech rehearsals. At least for Red, one production decision has already been made, the “paint” that the actors will be sloshing about will be a mixture of corn starch and pigment powder.

 There was also the question of the sets for the two plays, a challenge for scenic designer Allen Moyer. Since the plays will be shown on alternate nights, the sets, perforce, have to be relatively simple. For Red, the entire stage will be Rothko’s studio, with one complete “Four Seasons” painting hanging and others representing works in progress. For Art, an enclosed space representing an up-scale apartment will be set within the studio format so, as Lamos described it, a “studio will hover around the apartment.”

 Although Lamos hopes that people will see both plays, he doesn’t offer advice about which play to see first – for him, apparently, the synergy works both ways. As for whether the Playhouse will attempt to present other plays in a rep format, that remains to be seen. Lamos did note, however, that everyone, from office staff to marketing to the production staff is “jazzed about” what they are attempting.

 So, if we stand back for a second and considers what we, in May, are about “to see,” we have two Tony-award winning plays with a cast of accomplished actors, directed by a man who has given a lot of thought about the ‘art’ he is creating. The two productions will deal with multiple aspects of art, the creating of art, the viewing of art, and the buying and collecting of art, as well as the emotions generated.

At the close of Red, Rothko puts his hand on Ken’s chest, where his heart is, and says: “Make something new.” That’s what Lamos and all involved at the Westport Country Playhouse are attempting to do.

The run is from May 3 -- 29, "Art" on even-numbered days and "Red" on odd-numbered days.

For more information and to buy tickets, visit www.westportplayhouse.org or call the box office at (203) 227-4177, toll-free at 1-888-927-7529, or visit Westport Country Playhouse, 25 Powers Court, off Route 1, Westport.

 

Ah, Sweet Mystery of Love

Love Letters -- Long Wharf Theatre -- Thru April 10

The power of words.

Two actors sit at a table on a dimly lit stage and read letters that their characters have sent to each other over the years. They face forward. They do not interact, much less touch each other. Sounds like a recipe for a boring evening, right? Wrong.

Love Letters, by A. R. Gurney, which recently opened at Long Wharf Theatre, is a magical evening that is a tribute to the playwright and the two fine actors, Mia Farrow and Brian Dennehy, who easily have the audience in thrall for the full 90 minutes of the show.

As directed by Gordon Edelstein, this bittersweet paean to letter writing and to a friendship that stands the test of time speaks to both the mind and the heart. The two characters, Andrew (Dennehy) and Melissa (Farrow), first meet each other in second grade, when they begin to pass notes to each other. The correspondence continues as the two characters mature, moving through the awkward stages of teen-dom, when both are sent to private schools, and then on to college and to life, with Melissa becoming an artist and Andrew going into law and then politics.

Their personalities are antithetical – Melissa is a free spirit, Andrew a somewhat repressed acolyte of the status quo – and yet they find in each other a synthesis that, though troubled over the years, is soul-satisfying.

Given his character, Dennehy is somewhat restrained through the first half of the evening, but Farrow is constantly moving in her chair: her feet turn in on each other in girlish insecurity, she plays with her hair nervously, and she pouts magnificently.

The beauty of this piece, from a theater’s point of view, is that its staging requires little more than a table, two chairs, and lighting sufficient for the audience to see the actors. There’s no set, no costume changes, no special effects or projections required.

From an actor’s point of view, however, it’s a challenge, for there are obvious restraints, the main one being that they are restricted to their chairs. Secondly, they cannot interact except vocally. Thus, they must bring their characters to life primarily through their voices and what limited body language they are allowed.

The intriguing thing about this play, given its restrictions, and this is much to Gurney’s credit, is that there is a very definite, old-fashioned dramatic arc to its construction: exposition (who these characters are), several waves of rising action (their on-again, off-again relationship through high school, college and into their separate married lives) culminating in a climax (they finally consummate their relationship), followed by a moving denouement (the passing of one of the characters).

Does it work? Yes. During the curtain call, I looked down to the row in front of me and saw a young lady, perhaps 16 years old, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, wiping tears from her eyes. As I exited, several patrons were also brushing at their cheeks.

One of the reasons it works is that there is something atavistic about this play – it evokes the mesmerizing quality of the storyteller, the shaman-like person who would sit in front of a fire and tell stories about the tribe, reminding those listening who they are and where they have come from. Andrew and Melissa’s story is of that nature, for it can’t help but evoke memories of first love, of thwarted love, of love that defies rationality. It calls up in each one of us moments of delight, of heartbreak, of loss, and the soft glow engendered by having shared a life with someone. Hence, the tears.

Love Letters runs through April 10. For tickets or more information call 203-787-4282 or go to www.longwharf.org.

The Be Male, or not to Be Male, That is the Question

Cymbeline -- Yale Repertory Theatre -- Thru April 16

Michael Manuel and Christopher Michael McFarland.
All photos by Carol Rosegg

Yes, it’s true that in Shakespeare’s time men and boys played women’s roles on stage (because, by law, they had to) and, yes, as the Yale Rep’s playbill notes, women have had occasion to dress as men and, yes, there have been stagings of Shakespeare’s plays that have used cross-gender casting. All of this is noted in the playbill, and as one reads it one gets the feeling that the authors perhaps protest too much as justification for the current casting of Cymbeline, one of Shakespeare’s later plays that has defied pigeonholing (tragedy? comedy? Perhaps a “romance”?). The play is, at best, problematic, and scenes and plot devices echo many of those used by the Bard in earlier plays, so much so that one gets the feeling that Will might have been running out of gas. In any event, Yale Rep’s current production, under the direction of Evan Yionoulis, reflects, if unintentionally, the problems in the play itself, compounding confusion as to how the audience is supposed to respond to what it is seeing.

 In the 18^th century, Dr. Johnson, the inestimable poet, essayist, moralist, literary critic, biographer, editor and lexicographer, had this to say about Cymbeline: “This play has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some pleasing scenes, but they are obtained at the expense of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation.” Well, now – tell us what your really think, Sam!

Sheria Irving

Are there plot problems? Yes, indeed. If you tried to diagram who is related to whom and who did what, where and why, you would end up with a spider’s web. As for characters’ motivations, some are clear, some are not. A plot summary would take up too much space – suffice it to say we have a king, Cymbeline (Kathryn Meisle) with a second wife (Michael Manuel), and a daughter, Imogen (Sheria Irving), who has married Posthumus (Miriam A. Hyman), a man not of the royal blood. Oh, yes, there are also two royal sons, Guiderius – a.k.a. Polydore (Robert David Grant) and Arviragus, a.k.a Cadwal (Chalia La Tour), who were kidnapped some twenty years ago by Belarius (Anthony Cochrane). Oh, and yes, there are also some envoys from Rome, three ghosts and the god Jupiter…everything but Yul Brynner!

 Okay, let’s stop right here. As you have probably gathered, the king and Posthumus are played by women, and the queen is played by a man. One might well ask, to what purpose, other than that’s how Yionoulis and company wanted to do it. Yes, in Shakespeare’s time the female roles would have been played by males, but would the male roles have been played by females? Yale Rep’s artistic director, James Brady, offers this: the casting captures “both the authenticity and the artifice of the Bard’s aesthetic…” Really? We seems to be comparing what was done out of necessity with what has been done out of choice.

Miriam A. Hyman and Sheria Irving

So, the plot is murky at best, and the gender-bending will have some audience members often focusing more on the “Is that a man or woman?” game than attending to what is happening on stage. What statement is being made by the casting decisions escapes me. Yes, there are many lines that deal with gender, that question the true nature of men and women, but are these enhanced, as the playbill suggests, by being delivered by men playing women and women playing men? Perhaps, but now we have gone well beyond the confines of the play as written. Is Posthumus’s rant about women, motivated by his belief that Imogen has been unfaithful, any more effective because it is being delivered by a woman playing the role a man? The playbill notes would have us believe so. And what are we to learn from the fact that the First Lord (Sofia Jean Gomez) and Second Lord (Monique Barbee) are also played by women?

 Another question arises. If you decide to go non-traditional with the casting, why opt for a representational set (designed by Jean Kim). Walking into the theater you are confronted by a stone behemoth – a castle with lancet windows, stairs that will be illuminated by candles (and enveloped in smoke – lots of smoke) and walls covered in dead vines. It’s impressive, it’s realistic, and it’s all of a piece and must function as a British castle, Roman baths, and a cave deep in the woods. A more fluid, presentational set might have worked to enhance the casting decisions and the apparent intent of the director, and not left the audience wondering “Where are we now?”

Christopher Geary and Sheria Irving

As for the effectiveness of the cross-gender casting (beyond whatever message was intended), it works fairly well with one exception, that of Cymbeline’s queen. Manuel is a rather husky man, and dressed in the costumes and adornments created for him by Asa Benally, he looks (and, unfortunately, acts) as if he has wandered off the set of Hairspray – he is Edna waiting for Wilbur to burst on the scene to proclaim his adoration of her feminine pulchritude. It’s camp, as is Christopher Geary’s take on the queen’s son, Cloten – a gay blade given to rants, sulks and hissy-fits.

 Back to the playbill. Bundy has written: “This production is also a fantastic introduction to Shakespeare’s work for the hundreds of high school students from New Haven and across Connecticut [who] will join us for this production…” Hmmmm? And what will these hundreds of students take away from this production? One can only wonder. It would seem to me that the best introduction to Shakespeare is to play it straight and then, if you wish, do variations on the theme. Know the rules, and then break them. The reverse, it would seem to me, only leads to confusion.

 There are many fine moments in Yale Rep’s production of Cymbeline, but they are overshadowed by the “vision” or “concept” that the creative team has burdened it with, and an audience member may come away feeling that he or she has been pummeled by unclear ancillary messages that have little or nothing to do with the play.

 Cymbeline runs through April 16. For tickets or more information call 203-432-1234 or go to www.yalerep.org

The Devil in Scotland

The Strange Undoing of Prudencia Hart -- Gryphon's Pub at Yale University -- Thru April 3

Jessica Hardwick

Not time for an extended review. Suffice it to say that this is a delightful, magical evening that tells the tale of one Prudencia Hart, a scholar of Scottish ballads and folklore who attends a conference only to find herself snowed-in and ending up in...well, it certainly ain't Kansas.

Performed at Gryphon's Pub at Yale University (204 York Street) by five very talented actors, this is theater as intimate as it can get (made more intimate by the free wee dram of single-malt Scotch available before the start of the show).

The show only runs through this Sunday, April 3, and is presented as part of the upcoming International Festival of Arts & Ideas. For more information or tickets (if they are still available) go to artidea.org/festival#prudencia-hart.

The show is just one hell of a lot of fun, and you will get see a young actress, Jessica Hardwick, who will absolutely mesmerize you. Seeing her performance is worth twice the price of admission.

Sex as Metaphor

Sex With Strangers -- TheaterWorks -- Thru April 17

Courtney Rackley and Patrick Ball. Photo by Lanny Nagler

There’s no doubt about it – sex sells. Yes, indeed. Stand outside TheaterWorks up in Hartford and stare up at the marquee. It’s surprising steam is rising off Emma Mead’s sensual photo of a woman embracing a man. And then there’s the play itself: Sex With Strangers. With a title like that, you just know you’re not going to see a re-staging of I Remember Mama.

 As you walk down the stairs to the theater proper you may feel yourself starting to pant, and not because the stairs are steep. You sense you’re in for one of those evenings that require you be accompanied by an adult. Yes? Well, yes and no. The play’s title and marketing are pitching sex, and there are some steamy scenes in Laura Eason’s play, but Oh! Calcutta! it ain’t. The sex is the wrapping paper Eason has used to deliver an updated version of A Star is Born with just a touch of Educating Rita in this engaging two-person, two-act dramedy that, once we get through the sex, is about the state of the publishing business, the incursion of electronic media into same, writers’ insecurity and the awkwardness inherent in a May-September romance.

Briskly directed by Rob Ruggiero, with some deft set designs by Brian Prather, Sex With Strangers opens with Olivia (Courtney Rackley) nested in an isolated bed and breakfast in Michigan during a blizzard. A teacher and unfulfilled writer, she has come to this sanctuary (she is the only guest) to work on her novel. The sound of an automobile interrupts her editing. Who could it be? Well, it’s Ethan (Patrick Ball), who bursts on the scene with an energy and brusqueness that immediately destroys Olivia’s insular tranquility.

What follows is a set-up that is a bit strained, for Ethan is a blogger turned author with two best-sellers under his belt, both detailing his sexual exploits that, in the process, demean women. Olivia bristles, but at the end of the first scene they are in each other’s arms for the first of several fade-outs that allow the audience to imagine explicit sexual activity. Here’s where you have to suspend your disbelief, for it’s difficult to accept that Olivia, an erudite and self-possessed woman, would succumb so easily to Ethan’s sexual magnetism, which basically consists of “Do you wanna do it?” lines and moves. Buy the foreplay, such as it is, buy the rest of the play.

Yes, most of the scenes in the first act end with the couple coupling on various pieces of furniture, but the sexual interaction quickly becomes secondary to the issues Eason really wants to deal with. The basic conflict is not between male and female, although there is certainly a lot of dialogue dealing with the two genders’ ids and egos, but rather between an insecure author who revels in the smell and feel of a book (Olivia) and a successful author (Ethan) who is comfortable in the world of E-books and apps.

Over the course of the first act, Ethan seduces Olivia in several ways – yes, she willingly succumbs to his sexual overtures but she is more hesitant about his suggestions that she enter and embrace the 21^st-century’s somewhat fractionated publishing world. She finally agrees to have her first book, which received mixed reviews and enjoyed limited sales when first published, be rejuvenated in electronic form.

Oddly enough, much of the heat generated by Sex With Strangers (also the title of Ethan’s first book) has little to do with the two characters’ sexual passions but rather with their confrontations over ethics and the nature of a writer’s relationship to his or her work. In either case, Rackley and Ball handle the multiple mating dances with a great deal of style and flair. Both actors, under Ruggiero’s tutelage, know how to deliver a laugh line, and when their characters are in full-tilt confrontation they bite into each other’s lines like two predators vying to see who will dominate and devour the prey.

Sex With Strangers could easily have been titled Naked, a word that could be interpreted in several ways. Yes, sexual relations are primarily carried out when the participants involved are naked, but Eason is also dealing with the loss of privacy that comes as a concomitant to immersion in the world of texts, twitters and blogs, which often leads to a redefining of the word “rape.” Eason asks the audience to consider what someone must give up when he or she enters the somewhat anarchic world of the Internet. What is real? What is manufactured? As we cede more of who we are to whom we appear to be when we are “Googled,” does the person become the electronic persona? In essence, is fame and fortune, as determined and dictated by the Internet, a Mephistophelean bargain?

 Yes, Sex with Strangers is being promoted with SEX all in caps. That might be a wise or foolhardy decision. Those hoping simply to ogle naked bodies will be disappointed, but those who wish to be engaged by ideas that demand we assess what we have lost and what we have gained as the electronic media has become ascendant will be more than satisfied. In essence, the play is really not about SEX, it’s about SOUL.

Sex With Strangers runs through April 17. For tickets or more information call 860-527-7838 or go to www.theaterworkshartford.org

Letting Go of the Ones We Love

The Outgoing Tide -- Square One Theatre Company -- Thru March 20

Damian Long, Al Kulcsar and Peggy Nelson

The last time tears rose while I was watching a play was several years ago during the final moments of Ivoryton’s superb production of The Miracle Worker. It doesn’t happen often – after all, I’m a gruff, cynical critic – but it happened again as I watched the closing scenes in Bruce Graham’s The Outgoing Tide¸ currently on the boards at Square One Theatre Company in Stratford. It has been said, though it may be apocryphal, that when President Lincoln finished delivering his Gettysburg Address there was utter silence, not because of disinterest but because what he had said was so moving. Such is the case with the audience response immediately after the final blackout of this lovely, touching, superbly acted production directed by Tom Holehan. Silence….that speaks volumes.

The setting is a home nestled on the Chesapeake Bay, the home of the Concannons: Gunner (Al Kulscar), his wife, Peg (Peggy Nelson), and their visiting son, Jack (Damian Long). The opening scene has the two men sitting on a dock as Gunner, plying a fishing rod, speaks about his son. Since the audience does not yet know the relationship between the two men, it seems as if Gunner is talking to a friend as he finds fault with the life his son has chosen. It is only with Peg’s entrance that we realize that Gunner, suffering from initial stages of dementia, has, unaware, been speaking to his own son. It is a chilling realization.

Damian Long and Al Kulcsar

On a minimal stage designed by Greg Fairbend, Frank Fartely and Robert Mastroni, what unfolds in this two-act drama is a peeling away of relationships to reveal what is at their core. There is the present, as Gunner battles the closing darkness, Peg tries to deal with the dementia, and Jack seeks to understand his relationship to his father and mother, and a series artfully staged flashbacks that reveal the seeds of what would become a tangled garden of emotions, all punctuated by several tropes that include pancakes and skipping stones across water.

There’s a certain Death of a Salesman feel to this play, for Gunner, in his sane moments, is obsessed with leaving a legacy and making amends for actual and perceived sins. As Gunner, Kulcsar is simply superb. He not only creates a Gunner as he was but creates a Gunner falling to pieces, and in those moments when he realizes what is happening to him he rages against the night that is about to descend. It’s a mesmerizing, complete performance. At times he rages, Lear-like, and at others he is haunted, and yet, especially in the flash-backs, we also see the man who fell in love with the woman he dubs his Grace Kelly. It is a poignant, perceptive, complete performance.

Not to be outdone, Nelson offers us a woman whose dreams were put on hold when she met Gunner, a woman who has dedicated herself to the nurturing of a family that is now disintegrating. Where Gunner is given to somewhat caustic jokes that seem funny but bear a sting, Peg is overly protective, raising Jack with a series of warning about boys who did this or that and had to suffer the consequences.

Peggy Noonan and Al Kulcsar

Long, as Jack, is a middle-aged man going through a divorce who has yet to resolve his relationship with his parents. He is a product of the mailed fist of his father and the over-protectiveness of his mother, and in this visit he simply, at first, doesn’t know how to respond to what is revealed about his parents’ relationship and his father’s dementia.

It would be a spoiler to reveal what is the driving force behind the rising action of the play and its climax, but it raises questions about the quality of life and the process of letting go. Since we easily come to care about these three people, the play’s final moments cannot help but move you on several levels. It is capped by a simple wave of goodbye. It is a gesture that speaks to the heart and the soul.

Watching and responding to The Outgoing Tide confirms why we go to the theater. We want to be swept away; we want to be moved; we want to come away understanding a bit more about the human comedy. This outstanding production, with its superb cast, satisfies on all levels. You don’t need million-dollar sets, you don’t need flashy costumes, you don’t need eye-boggling special effects. What you need are actors who create characters who draw you into their world and make you care. And, at least for one audience member, make you cry.

The Outgoing Tide runs through March 20. For tickets or more information call 203-375-8778 or online at www.squareonetheatre.com.   

A Spike in the Cherry Orchard

Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike -- MTC Mainstage -- Thru March 13

Jodi Stevens and Christopher DeRosa. Photo by Joe Landry

Take a good helping of Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard, Three Sisters and Uncle Vanya and mix in some contemporary soap opera clichés, a dash of TV sitcoms and Disney’s Snow White and what do you get? Well, you get Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike, the comedy by Christopher Durang that won both the Tony and the Outer Critics Circle awards for best play and is now playing at MTC Mainstage in Norwalk. So, should you rush out and buy the complete works of Chekhov so you can appreciate the play? Not necessary. You may miss some of the in-jokes, but there’s enough there that has nothing to do with the Chekhovian oeuvre to satisfy the most ardent Russophobe. Whether you will be entranced and intrigued remains to be seen, for the production, as directed by Pamela Hill, is somewhat uneven – there are many moments when it comes to life and entrances, and there are many moments when things just seem to drag.

The situation, drawn from several of Chekhov’s plays, finds Sonia (Cynthia Hannah) and her brother, Vanya (Jim Schilling), living a rather dull, secluded life in their Bucks County home (so far away from Moscow!). Their primary contact with the outside world consists of visits by Cassandra (Katie Sparer), a cleaning lady given to making oracular pronouncements (hence the name). Their quotidian existence is disrupted by the arrival of their sister, Masha (Jodie Stevens), a much-married star of stage and screen, and her latest boy-toy, Spike (Christopher DeRosa). It seems that Masha has been supporting her siblings for many years and, given her flagging career, is eager to sell the house, which includes a stand of cherry trees. Into the mix comes Nina (Carissa Massaro), an erstwhile actress who is visiting the next-door neighbors. Spike is young and attractive; Nina is young and vivacious. Masha immediately becomes jealous.

The obligatory exposition early in the first act is delivered by Vanya and Sonia, and it is delivered at a snail’s pace. Yes, the characters they are playing lead humdrum lives; the problem is they deliver their lines in a somewhat humdrum manner. There’s little or no life. Then Cassandra bursts on the scene as if she is one of the weird sisters in Macbeth on LSD. Over-the-top from her first entrance, Sparer really has no where to go with her character.

Enter Stevens as Masha, with Spike in tow, and the production suddenly comes into sharper focus. She is the quintessential bitch goddess, and Stevens pulls this off with a great deal of style, flare and, well, bitchiness. For the rest of the evening, she will singlehandedly, with two exceptions, drive the production.

The exceptions occur in the second act. The first is Hannah’s extended monologue when he character, Sonia, is on the phone with a man she met at a costume party the previous evening. He is asking her out on a date. She is flummoxed, she is unsure, she doesn’t know how to react, other than to admit that the Maggie Smith accent she used at the party is not really her’s. It’s a subtle, deft piece of acting, one that requires she convey what her gentleman caller is saying even though we never hear his voice.

The second exception occurs fairly late in the second act when Nina reads from a play Vanya has written. Massaro plays a molecule, and she is an absolute delight as she spins, leaps and conveys subtle and not-so-subtle molecular emotions.

Perhaps the role with the biggest challenge is that of Spike, for, as written, he is little more than a somewhat witless piece of well-muscled meat. DeRosa poses, preens, flexes and grins a lot. Playwright Durang hasn’t given Spike much to work with, but DeRosa does what he can to give dimension to what is essentially a cardboard character. 

And then we get to what might be considered the climax of the play, which consists of a monologue by Vanya after he sees Spike on his cell phone while Nina is performing Vanya’s play. It’s a “those were the days” set-piece, and it should convey all of the anger, fear and frustration that Vanya has repressed. Alas, it doesn’t. It’s delivered almost in a monotone, sans brio.

Though the rhythm of the production is uneven, Hill has done a fine job blocking the actors in a venue that is essentially a black box with thrust stage. Yes, it’s inevitable that some lines are delivered with the actors’ backs to part of the audience, but Hill shows a good sense of how to use this space, especially in the play-within-a-play sequence in the second act, for she positions her actors so that we are focused on the characters we are supposed to be focused on.

In all, Vanya is an enjoyable evening of theater that needs just a bit more juice.

Vanya runs through March 13. For tickets or more information call 203-454-3883 or go to www.musictheatreofct.com