Last Thursday, I drove to a theater, found my seat, waited for the lights to go down and experienced a play I knew nothing about. Call it the doldrums of August, but I hadn't done research of any kind. I didn't know what the play was about, who directed it, or who'd be appearing in it. I couldn't say whether it was comedy or drama. I didn't even know how to pronounce the title. What a treat! After the thousands of plays I've read and/or seen over the years, that hasn't happened in over a decade. I got to see a play the way some of you do all the time.

Mauritius is the story of a young woman's quest to sell a collection of rare stamps for an astronomical price, and how shady characters band together to keep that from happening. The young woman, Jackie, may not actually own these precious stamps; I'm no probate lawyer, but I rather think she doesn't. Either way, not just millions of dollars but Jackie's sense of self-worth - perhaps even her life - depend on the outcome of that sale. The naked desperation of all these characters makes for high comedy. Mauritius is a thriller, but it's also deeply funny.

I was heretofore unfamiliar with the playwright, Theresa Rebeck, but I learned from the curtain speech that she's sometimes described as "the female David Mamet." (The mind reels.) If that's meant to convey her familiarity with adult language, it's a fair charge. Otherwise, I found her script much more reminiscent of David August's Proof than Mamet's American Buffalo. If you caught Proof at Tacoma Little Theatre, you know it's about an emotionally fragile young woman at odds with her domineering older sister over an esoteric (some might say nerdy) item worth millions. In Mauritius, Alexandra Novotny plays the older sister, and Kelli Mohrbacher is terrifically good as Jackie.

Comic thrillers allow some license for over-the-top acting, and it seems some of the actors in this production took that license and ran with it. Brian Hatcher is especially emphatic as Sterling, an aggressive, not entirely legitimate businessman. You can almost see a pinkie ring, a la Joe Pesci, gleaming in his gesticulations. Dennis Rolly is in fine form as a downtrodden dealer. Novotny's Mary is a bit too broadly patrician for my taste, but it works. The cast tears into the smart material with avaricious delight.

And then there's Mohrbacher. For most of the play, she and Duane Deering adopt a more naturalistic style than the rest of the cast. Again, both styles play for an audience, even together. But I encourage patrons to look past the antics of the supporting cast to one truly outstanding lead performance. It's believable, multidimensional and loaded with what acting teachers refer to as "urgency." She needs that money. Without her complex desperation, the rest of the show wouldn't work. We have to root for her, and since she's probably not entitled to the cash, our empathy for her derives entirely from her obvious need.

High marks as always for Harlequin's technical polish, especially the rapid scene changes enabled by Linda Whitney's set design.

 I also want to commend director David Nail, a true renaissance man. He was great as the music video director in The Last Schwartz this spring, and I dug his lighting designs for Sixties Kicks! and Unexpected Tenderness. Turns out he can helm a show as well. I look forward to more of his work.

 

                                 

Checking into "Six Hotels"

Playwright Israel Horovitz loves Olympia

By Christian Carvajal on May 12, 2010

Oh, sure, all six one-acts are set in bland hotel rooms from Massachusetts to Lebanon, and they feature the same four actors (playing 21 roles), but they reside at polar ends of the tonal spectrum.  As Horovitz explained in a post-show talkback, they were written separately and given common elements (fiddlehead ferns, a bottle of red wine) in polish drafts.  Horovitz's daughter, Hannah, lives in Olympia, and he and director Scot Whitney developed a fruitful working relationship when Harlequin debuted his Sins of the Mother last year.

"It's obvious to me," Horovitz writes in the program notes, "the best actors are easily found in Olympia, Washington." 

David Nail, a veteran of several productions of Sins of the Mother including Harlequin's, displays an exceptional talent for portraying subtle differences between believable characters.  It's one thing to create a neurotic oddball, as Nail does perfectly well in the final one-act, quite another to craft a handful of tic-free, even mundane, individuals. 

Helen Harvester brings her knack for physicality, richly demonstrated in Mating Dance of the Werewolf, to roles that include an abandoned mistress and petrified violinist.  Incidentally, if Harvester wasn't really playing violin, it was as convincing an example of stage fakery as I've ever seen. 

Caitlin Frances is likewise credible accompanying Harvester on cello and tap-dancing through "The Audition Play."

Brian Claudio Smith's characters are shockingly diverse, from a moonlighting bellhop to an ugly American student whose racial pride is expressed at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way. 

    

Nice try, Philly. The truth is that for all five characters in this engrossing drama by Israel Horovitz, the past is always present. It traps them, struggle as they might to forget it, in a cycle of guilt and retribution. The past can’t be swept away with a glib one-liner. It is always circling, waiting to move in for the kill.

The prolific Horovitz, now entering his fifth decade as a significant American playwright, sets a bountiful table for actors. There’s a reason his early plays helped launch the likes of Al Pacino, John Cazale, Jill Clayburgh, Richard Dreyfuss, and Scott Glenn. Horovitz reliably offers his actors a feast of elliptical, vaguely menacing dialogue, plots that are booby-trapped with surprises and twisty turnabouts, action that is both physical and psychological, and sometimes, as in “Sins of the Mother,’’ a chance to try out their Boston accents.

Under the direction of the playwright, a vibrant cast makes the most of it in a new production of “Sins’’ at Gloucester Stage Company.

(A one-act play when it premiered at Gloucester Stage six years ago, it was expanded by Horovitz into a full-length work).

The emotional center of “Sins’’ is occupied by Bobby Maloney (Robert Walsh), a Vietnam veteran in his mid-50s with a terminally ill wife and bleak job prospects. He’s not alone: The fishing industry has declined, bringing lean times to Gloucester. That leaves Bobby plenty of time to chew the fat with the three other unemployed guys who join him early one morning in the stevedores’ union meeting room of a largely closed fish-processing plant.There is Frankie Verga, a loose cannon embittered by the success of his identical twin brother, Philly (Christopher Whalen plays both roles);

Dubbah Morrison (David Nail), a well-meaning doofus relegated to boasting of his vegetarianism (“I’m 13 1/2-years meat-sober’’ is how he puts it);

and Douggie Shimmatarro (Francisco Solorzano), whose life story delivers a jolt to the others, especially when they learn who his mother was.

There will be no spoilers here, but suffice it to say that the foursome’s conversation steadily moves into dangerous territory, exposing long-buried secrets and hidden connections that build to a confrontation. In detailing those connections, “Sins’’ is at times overly schematic and reliant on coincidences. A second-act soliloquy by Dubbah seems tacked on, as if the playwright concluded it was simply the character’s turn to bare his soul.But Horovitz, now 70, continues to pour such energy into plot construction and such wit into his dialogue that it carries “Sins’’ past such flaws. Gloucester, as it often does for Horovitz, functions in “Sins’’ as more than a setting, more even than a subject: as a virtual sixth character.

Eugene Ionesco once described Horovitz as “both a sentimentalist and a realist,’’ and that is especially true in his depiction of Gloucester.With its rough-edged protagonists and its catalog of social pathologies (including drug use and child abuse), “Sins’’ is not a play to gladden the heart of a Chamber of Commerce official. Yet the playwright takes contagious joy in capturing the rhythms of local speech and the flavor of local folkways. He knows that no cultural anthropologist can rival a native’s walking knowledge of Gloucester’s social history. Consider this wonderful exchange that opens the play:

Bobby: “Your name’s Douggie?’’

Douggie: “Douglas. Yuh, Douggie.’’

Bobby: “You’re not Evvie Shimmatarro’s brother?’’

Douggie: “Evvie Shimmatarro’s brother’s older than me.’’

Bobby: “Evvie Shimmatarro’s brother is Douggie, right?’’

Douggie: “Yuh, but, he’s older.’’

Bobby: “Yuh, but, both’a your names are Douggie Shimmatarro?’’

Douggie: “Yuh, right, but, he’s older than me.’’

Bobby: “But, isn’t there another Douggie Shimmatarro over in Lanesville? Richie Shimmatarro’s middle son?’’

Douggie: “I heard that. Those are different Shimmatarros.’’

Bobby: “So, you’re saying there are three Douggie Shimmatarros livin’ in Gloucester?’’

Douggie: “Three I know about.’’

With his watchful eyes, Solorzano conveys both Douggie’s vulnerability and his tough inner core. Nail brings similar shadings to the character of Dubbah, while Whalen rises expertly to the challenge of playing Frankie and Philly. Walsh, as Bobby, has a marvelously lived-in face that evokes a gentler Lee Marvin or James Coburn. He is compelling to watch, whether that face is contorted with broken-hearted anguish or drawn so tight you can almost hear the time bomb ticking.

Don Aucoin can be reached at aucoin@globe.com.

From BroadwayWorld.com

Sins of the Mother

By Israel Horovitz

Directed by Israel Horovitz

Set Design, Jenna McFarland Lord;

Costume Design, Ashley Preston;

Lighting Design, Russ Swift;

Sound Design, Ben Emerson;

Production Stage Managers, Marsha Smith and Kayla G. Sullivan;

Fight Choreographer, Robert Walsh

CAST:

Robert Walsh, Bobby Maloney; Francisco Solorzano, Douggie Shimmatarro; Christopher Whalen, Frankie Verga and Philly Verga; David Nail, Dubbah Morrison

Performances through September 13 at Gloucester Stage Company                       

Box Office 978-281-4433 or www.gloucesterstage.org

The Gloucester Stage Company concludes its 30^th anniversary season with the New England premiere of Sins of the Mother, written and directed by Founding Artistic Director Israel Horovitz. The darkly comic play invites us into the world of the struggling Gloucester fishing trade, where past is prologue for five local men whose lives are inextricably intertwined by events beyond their control and people who cause them pain.

Characterized by Horovitz's strong writing and trademark ear for dialect and language, Sins of the Mother is a compelling story well staged and well acted. It is safe to say that the director knows what the playwright had in mind, but Horovitz-the-director's stagecraft enhances Horovitz-the-writer's work by making excellent use of the three-sided platform and dramatic blocking of the four actors. He has the knack of building or diffusing tension by their positioning among numerous folding metal chairs in the first act, and raises questions for the audience with the presence of a casket onstage after intermission. We might think we know who is in there, but we cannot be sure until things get rolling.

"I saw The Perfect Storm on tv and started thinking about Gloucester," offers Douggie Shimmatarro (Francisco Solorzano) as the motivation for returning to his hometown after years of self-imposed exile in Florida. He is welcomed by Bobby Maloney (Robert Walsh), the elder statesman of the fishermen who matter-of-factly describes his service in Vietnam as a checklist of killed "gooks," mosquito bites, and dope smoking, no big deal. He seems more stirred up to learn that Douggie's late mother was Louise Martino, but he quickly regains his equilibrium and moves on, leaving Douggie and us to wonder about her significance.

It doesn't take long to find out once co-workers Frankie Verga (Christopher Whalen) and Dubbah Morrison (David Nail) arrive and engage in a rapid-fire game of Gloucester genealogy. This banter is funny and razor-sharp, full of local colloquialisms such as "wicked smaht" and "I'm just sayin'." Frankie is an irritant who gets under the skin of the others and jabs his finger in their eyes (figuratively) until everything spills out about Louise, angering Bobby and offending Douggie. Dubbah attempts to stick a cork in it, but Frankie is not to be contained and continues to spew his venom, sealing his own fate.

Like the industry that has employed them, these men are rotting from the inside out. They show up weekly at the union meeting room of the fish-processing plant to get their cards signed for the unemployment office, verifying that they looked for work, but that there is none. They come out of habit, more than hope, and to reinforce their shared sense of community and continuity. It is not so much that they like each other, but they are intimately familiar with one another, in the way that people from the same neighborhood know everybody's business because they hear it through open windows or see it played out on the street. They went to school together and know all the same people, even their namesakes who are unrelated and live in different parts of town. But the main thing that they have in common and that drives the story is a dirty secret that informed their childhoods, simmers just below the surface, and threatens to erupt with a force of volcanic proportions and consequences.

In act two, Frankie's identical twin brother, nemesis, and polar opposite Philly Verga (Christopher Whalen) appears in dark suit and dark glasses to pay his respects. Where Frankie never crossed the bridge out of Gloucester and never went to Boston, Philly moved to Quincy twelve years ago and never looked back. He is a successful owner of a car dealership with numerous salesmen working for him, and holds both his brother and father in contempt. A self-made man, he credits Oprah for helping him learn to let go and he frequently takes deep breaths while circling his arms up over his head, exhaling as he thrusts his open palms out to the side. "My secret," he tells Bobby, Douggie, and Dubbah, "is to marry Oprah to Jesus," explaining his behavior. Although he maintains a practiced calm on the surface, behind his dark glasses he oozes menace primarily because no one can see his eyes to really read him. When Philly finally tells his back story in a precise and controlled tone, the anger bubbles out between gritted teeth and clenched fists, making the others quite uncomfortable and fidgety.

Now if none of this sounds quite like a recipe for humor, don't be misled. Horovitz writes with an edgy wit and these four actors deliver it with great timing, body language, and facial expressions. Whalen manages to infuse each of the twin characters he portrays with something laughable, as well as their individual brands of menace.

Nail, who originated the role of Dubbah in the world premiere of Sins by Harlequin Productions in Olympia, Washington, brings a sweetness and sensitivity to the big lug who is somewhat less developed than the other characters.

Douggie and Bobby are more complex, and Solorzano and Walsh connect strongly from the opening scene, skillfully laying out the pieces of the intricate puzzle that will take shape as the play progresses. Walsh is the strong center of the ensemble as Bobby tries to keep the lid on the potential powder keg.

Pitch-perfect accents and distant waterfront sounds of gulls, inboard motors, and foghorns add to the realism of the GSC production. Jenna McFarland Lord places the fishermen in a spare, depressing room at the plant, and then plunks them into an over-decorated, decidedly feminine living room where their discomfort is palpable. The men appear to have lived in Ashley Preston's work clothes for quite some time, in sharp contrast to the Sunday best they squirm into for the wake. Lighting Design by Russ Swift is especially effective in the epilogue at a funeral home. Further atmosphere is lent by mournful strings and crackling thunder with Sound Design by Ben Emerson.

Sins of the Mother succeeds in accurately portraying a dying industry while using its demise as a metaphor for the lives of the characters. The titular maternal figure never appears, but looms large in the events of past and present for Bobby, Douggie, Dubbah, and Frankie. However, for Philly, the one guy who got out, it is a different sort of mother, arguably an "earth mother" who had an impact on his life in a good way. She taught him to let go of the people who cause him pain and move on. Evidently, she also inspired the playwright to come up with a clever conclusion. Thanks, Oprah.

FROM: GLOUCESTER TIMES:

'Sins' on Gloucester's waterfront Horovitz' latest hits the 'Stage' tonight

By Gail McCarthy

The Gloucester waterfront is again at the forefront of a new play, which has its New England premiere tonight at Gloucester Stage Company.

In "Sins of the Mother," playwright Israel Horovitz weaves a tale involving three out-of-work lumpers.The men are laborers who load or unload vessels that come into the harbor, find themselves out of work in a distressed fishing industry. "The lumpers show up to get unemployment cards signed, and a kid is there looking for work but there is no work. It turns out these three men had a relationship with this kid's mother," said Horovitz."It's a working-class play and very funny, and sort of a murder mystery," he added.The play intertwines events of the past with personal and economic politics of the present.

When the show had its West Coast debut in Washington state by Harlequin Productions, a critic wrote:

"If you can afford only one play in a year, make it this one."

The synopsis of the play sets the scene: "When a young man returns to the small fishing town where grew up, he is drawn into a mystery that threatens to reveal his own past. A powerful and compelling drama about revenge, forgiveness, and the comically human struggle to decipher which is which." Horovitz said the work started off as a one-act play called "Off Season" set in Gloucester in the winter, which had its debut at Gloucester Stage in the summer of 2003. "I realized that it deserved to be a play," he said. Eric Engel, the artistic director of Gloucester Stage, said the show is one of Horovitz's finest works.

The hard-hitting work features Boston actor Robert Walsh and New York actors Christopher Whalen, David Nail and Francisco Solorzano. Solorzano, who returns to Gloucester Stage to play the role of Douggie Shimmatarro, has developed and recreated several roles in Horovitz's plays in Gloucester and New York City. He has both acting and film credits, and is a founding member of the Barefoot Theatre Company in New York City. Solorzano, who plays the young man who returns, has been involved in the play at earlier points in its evolution and staged readings. "I am so excited about doing the show here in Gloucester," he said. "I keep telling everybody in New York that I hear sea gulls every day before I go to work, and I know out the back door of that theater are boats and the waterfront."

Walsh last worked at Gloucester Stage as the director of Horovitz's "The Widow's Blind Date." A founding member of Actors' Shakespeare Project, his film credits include "Evening," "Mystic River," "Amistad," "Eight Men Out" and "State and Main." Walsh is on the faculties of A.R.T./MXAT Institute for Advanced Theater Training and Brandeis University. Whalen makes his Gloucester Stage debut playing brothers Frankie and Philly Verga. In addition to acting, he is a physical fitness enthusiast; he completed his third New York City marathon in the fall of 2007.

Seattle resident Nail makes his Gloucester Stage debut as Dubbah Morrison. He originated the role of Dubbah in the world premiere of the full-length version by Harlequin Productions. He has extensive credits as a director, lighting designer, and as a rhythm tap choreographer and dancer.

"Sins of the Mother" runs from Aug. 27 through Sept. 13 at Gloucester Stage, 267 East Main St., Gloucester.

Gail McCarthy can be reached at gmccarthy@gloucestertimes.com.

Sins of the Mother marvelous, intense

ALEC CLAYTON
The News Tribune
01/30/09

Harlequin Productions in Olympia has scored a coup that I believe is unheard of for a small town community theater. They are producing the West Coast premiere of a new play by the renowned playwright Israel Horovitz, “Sins of the Mother.”

“Our production is actually the world premiere of the two-act play,” said Harlequin artistic director Scot Whitney in an e-mail. He explained that Horovitz first wrote it as a one-act and later expanded it into the current play, but since it was previously performed as a one-act with the same title Harlequin can’t advertise it as a world premiere.

While Horovitz was in Olympia last year to visit his daughter who lives here, he saw “Shining City” at Harlequin. Impressed with what he saw, he asked Whitney if he would consider directing his new play, which is set to open next year in New York with Ethan Hawke.

This is the big time for little Olympia.

“Sins of the Mother” opened Jan. 22 to a sparse crowd in Olympia’s State Theater. It is the most intense, realistic and gritty play I have seen since I started writing this column five years ago.

Set in an almost abandoned union hall and in the living room of an out-of-work “lumper” in Gloucester, Mass., in the 1980s, the play delves into the loves and hates of five men who grew up together and whose families have been connected for generations in a town where everyone knows everyone, and most personal secrets are not secret at all.

All but one of the men are “lumpers” – their word for stevedores. Bobbie (Scott C. Brown), the oldest of the men, is caring for his wife who is dying from a sexually transmitted disease. He is a Vietnam vet who killed many North Vietnamese. He can’t let it go, and letting go turns out to be a central theme of the play. Dubbah (David Nail) is out of work like them all and caring for a mother in the late stages of cancer who doesn’t even recognize him any more.

Douggie (Zachariah Robinson) is the gentle kid who left town years ago and has just returned. Frankie (Brian Claudio Smith) is an explosive, wisecracking young man who insists on bringing old hatreds and suspicions to a boil. And finally there’s Philly (Claudio Smith in an amazing dual role), the twin brother who escaped to a better life and whose arrogantly suave exterior hides a wounded child inside.

Anything I might say about the plot would spoil it; suffice it to say that it is well-crafted and full of surprises and that the dialogue runs the gamut from gut-wrenching to raucously funny. The quirky speech patterns and repetition of pet phrases, the strong sense of place and of history and the uncompromising realism put this play in league with the works of such great modern playwrights as Arthur Miller and August Wilson.

All four actors are outstanding.

Claudio Smith shows great range of emotion in portraying two extremely different characters, one crude and boisterous and the other a study in coolly controlled rage.

Brown inhabits the character of Bobbie in such a natural and believable way as to be convincing that even a man capable of the worst of crimes can elicit sympathy. He’s a big man. I’ve seen him in other roles, and I swear he looks like he put on 40 pounds and 5 inches in height for this role; and it’s all in the way he carries himself.

Robinson is a natural as the quiet, innocent and conflicted Douggie.

Nail, as Dubbah, is the moral compass of the play.

His facial contortions show his fear and scream out in pain like a Rodney King character

pleading “Can’t we all just get along?” with nobody listening.

Scenic and lighting designer Jill Carter, and costume designers Lucy Gentry and Asa Brown Thornton set the tone for a play grounded in place and time, and Whitney’s spot-on direction permeates throughout.

If you can afford only one play in a year, make it this one – unless you are easily offended by coarse language, racial epithets and staged violence.

Sins of the Mother

by Israel Horovitz
Review by Rebecca Wood

In the introduction to one of his plays, Israel Horovitz says “It is remarkable how our lives take small, unexpected turns to places we never really imagined we’d visit, and how we go with it…how we accept our new surroundings with a simple shrug and ‘Life’s like that.’  Because it’s simply true: Life’s like that.”

If you go to see the premiere production of Sins of the Mother, (which you should, or miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime, never-to-be-repeated opportunity) you will be able to read in your program the extraordinary story about how a legend came to be in Olympia to work with director Scot Whitney on his new play before it opens in New York.

It’s sheer magic that he’s been here, and that we can experience this now.  It’s not just an evening out, to see a play: it’s a life-changing experience.

Plus: 1) you can see it before those know-it-alls on Broadway;  2) you can pay a fraction of the price you’d pay to go be a know-it-all and see it on Broadway  3) Israel mentioned in the talk afterward that he may be changing things around.  I will probably send him death threats if he changes the end; it blew me away. 
Go, be one of the few people in the world to see it while it is the shape it is now.

I am not one of those muffin-headed reviewers who is going to detail the plot for you. In fact, I’m not going to tell you the plot at all this time.  It is a mystery: go unravel it for yourself.

I’m going to start by saying a lot of things that need to be said, and read, about Israel Horovitz, living genius.  Please appreciate him while he’s here with us; don’t pass him by on the street like people did Van Gogh (could have bought his paintings for two bucks, dummies! Could have had an insight into how he sees this world!), and then celebrate his work later.  A lot of smart people are celebrating Israel’s work, all over the world -in fact he was leaving the play I saw in order to catch a flight to Paris to be at another of his productions, then to London, then to Greece- so join us.  Bring your brain, he’ll make you use it.  Bring your heart too, it will be fed fizzy lifting drinks.

This man knows about devotion, he knows about strength.  He writes for women so incisively, I want to ask him how he knows us, and the battles we fight.  He writes for men who struggle, and who work hard, and who used to believe in something but aren’t sure anymore. He writes people in a way that I have not seen since Tennessee Williams. 

In the introduction to one of his plays, he says he writes for “grown-ups wrestling with the old ‘why are we alive?”  He goes on to say, “Very rarely do husbands say to their wives, ‘Let’s go see a play tonight, and try to figure out why we’re alive.’  but believe it, that’s what’s going on, every time.” 

And he comes with us as we puzzle it out.  Sitting in the audience of Sins of the Mother  will transform you:  you are given a window into the everyday-turned-operatic; and the whole time, you can feel the playwright nudging you, turning his mischievous eyes on you, and saying “how about this, huh?”  and making you laugh when you shouldn’t. 

There is nothing so human as getting the giggles at a funeral.  Nothing so mortifying, nothing so hilarious, and nothing to remind you as forcibly that you ARE ALIVE, by God, and it’s wonderful.

Sins of the Mother can probably be classified along with Israel Horovitz’ “Blue Collar Plays”, wherein he documents a moment in time in Gloucester, Mass., and gives us a view of a world and a way of life that is rapidly disappearing. He says,  “The characters of these plays will be quick to show you how they have responded, to let you know how they feel about a world that has begun to exclude them.” but they represent all of us. He also said, “I thought if I could focus my particular telescope/microscope, and get it right, really right, for one small New England town, I might possibly have it right for the world.”  and he does.

I loved these people; they made me laugh by shining some light on how ridiculous we are, sometimes, we human beings.  They made me ache with the pain of the past they carry around and are still fighting, they made me cry.  But there’s always that humor, and that redeeming joy that Israel sets dancing through his work, like a silver thread: he never gives way to complete despair, and because of that, I walked out of that theater feeling like my spirit had undergone a chiropractic session; and for that, I thank him.

Now. To the specifics.  The set, by Jill Carter, is wonderful; especially the first act set.  The backdrop painting is worth the ticket price alone, I’d pay to go to a museum to see that. It moves. It has lovely texture and color, and it is full of questioning, it’s full of “I won’t give up.”  I’d hang it in my study. 

It serves as a searing reminder to us, along with the fog horn, of what is outside…what these people’s day-to-day existence is like.  They are fighting against hopelessness, and in their own ways, they are winning. The anger they are ignoring is like another character in this play: the past they keep saying is dead, is so alive we can hear it breathing. The typical accumulated texture of day-to-day life is on the walls; we don’t ordinarily notice it, but here it’s made extraordinary: a perfect visual metaphor for this play.  A normal, small town, a normal day, the mundane that is lit in such a way that it becomes fantastic, sublime. These are small-town battles made enormous; it’s several tragedies on the scale of the Greeks, only it’s also a laugh at small-town life, on the scale of Oscar Wilde with some Thornton Wilder thrown in. 

“…bucket of fish heads on her front steps…”

My only confusion about this play is something I am not sure I want cleared up.  I have been puzzling about it for a day and a half now, and I think I’d rather have the enjoyment of thinking about it, than have everything finished off with a neat little bow. But I’ll get to that in a moment.

The play opens with wonderful energy. Straight off, the tone is set that will keep on throughout:  the playwright and the director and the actors are one step ahead of us with a mystery, and as soon as we go “Oh!” and get part of it, they’re already showing us a hint of something else to figure out.  If you like murder mysteries, you are going to love this. 

Every now and then, Horovitz gives us a glimpse of something that one of the characters doesn’t see; so, like Alfred Hitchcock showing us the bomb under the rug, we are left with the suspense of watching them figure it out, and wondering how they’ll react.   By “them,” I mean: the character of Douggie in the first act, and the character of Philly in the second act.  They are the two who have things to find out. We are shown the answer, if we can catch it, but there are other things for us to discover right along with them.  Shocking things.

“half the job…”

the most shocking reveal of all is done in a really wonderful way. It doesn’t dawn on us until the characters react…and you’ve got to just take a moment to marvel at the genius of it.

“what did you do, Bobbie? What did you do?”

Actor Scott C. Brown does a Broadway-worthy turn here, playing the role of Bobbie.  He inhabits his character, and trusts us to “get it”, which is something I really appreciate.  He is simply living in the skin of Bobbie, which gives his performance wonderful texture and grit. His comedic timing is impeccable. There was one moment where he slipped dangerously close to self-pity, not sharing his experience, however: “...no love in my life.” I would urge caution. It’s a very fine line to walk, letting yourself as an actor go through the struggle, and also sharing it with the audience.  The  man is not, by far, very loveable; and yet, you just can’t help but love him.  The pitfall would have been to make this character so violent and mean we could not approach him; it is vital that the audience be able to care, and the success of this play really hinges on whether he can be a voice for us, at times. He is. He can. 

As a sort of side note, there is only one line in this entire play that seemed unnecessary.  Bobbie says “she liked you too, when you were little,”
And we get it. It’s brilliant and hilarious…the rest , “later on, she didn’t. You know that.” was a let down. We know! Trust us to get it.

Actor Zachariah Robinson, who played the role of Douggie, was too theatrical for me in the first half.  He has the difficult task of being the nervous stranger, of being (in a way) new to this group of old friends, but the actor himself should just know that and live it.  For instance, before the lines mentioned “perfect storm”, he looked at his watch.  But why did he look at it? It was very clear from where I was sitting that he didn’t really check what time it was.  He went through the motion, to show us he was looking.  I want him to have the thought “what the hell time is it?“ and then actually look to find out. He was too technical, which simply doesn’t fly in an intimate setting; he was watching himself, when the style of the play demands that he work from the inside out. I am positive he’s capable of it, as he eased into it a bit in act Two. In fact, I thought he was utterly convincing and charming in act II.  It was like when he was given something to DO, he finally started living his character.  He’s perfectly cast; he just needs to trust that.

“the past is of very little use…”

Brian Claudio Smith, who plays two characters (twins), Frankie and Philly, turns in the best work I have seen from him yet.  It is funny; I have always wanted to see him really let go, and allow himself to shed the “acting” , and become vulnerable.  He does it here: in a performance that deserves some kind of award--but the irony is, he’s got frickin’ sunglasses on  when he is finally able to take one step further as an actor and do something REALLY brave.  I have only seen a few actors do this, in my lifetime, with simplicity and honesty---so I am not talking about something that makes or breaks an actor; I am talking about something I thought Claudio Smith might be capable of, and sure enough, he is.  Incidentally, Ethan Hawke will be playing this role next.  To that I will say: you’d get a better price for this young, on-his-way-places, new guy:  Brian is perfection in these roles.  His entrance brought a bit of theatricality to the stage, and I had settled back into my seat ready for the type of work he turned in before, which was professional, smooth, and “acted”.  In fact, this time I was very pleasantly surprised.  When the line “I knew everybody, first name basis” was spoken, Brian almost visibly settled in. took a bite of a bagel, and dropped in to his character.  I nearly stood up and applauded.  Fine work! Don’t read this and try to do anything. That’s the point: don’t “do” anything at all, just live it, listen, and let it land, and give us the permission to think and to go with you as you work things out.

Which brings me to David Nail, who played Dubbah.  This chap is a fine example of what acting should be.  He’s living in his character, who is a fully rounded, flawed, textured human being, and we are drawn to him. We love him.  We, in fact, cannot get enough of this guy.  He is working with the ensemble, he’s listening, he’s not thinking of his performance as HIS performance: it is clear he’s doing all the things that actors are taught to do: he’s driving the story by knowing what his character wants, and focusing on his scene partners. But he’s doing so much more than that.  By being such a strong and supportive part of an ensemble,  this fine actor gives us, the audience, the gift of  trusting us.  Whereas the more theatrical performances feel like they don’t trust the audience to see things, like they  need to “show” us what they want us to see, David Nail and Scott C. Brown in particular are the ones who let us notice the small things.  The tiny wince as he lifts his leg up onto the stool. The glance out the doorway.  These are not things they may even know they are doing, consciously, because they are just living it. And it’s absolutely sublime.  Dubbah had his back to me, completely, when he began the line “we were lobstering off…”  and it was hilarious.  How can an actor act with his back?  That’s the secret: he doesn’t “act”.  Just be in  your awful, tragic, ridiculous and grotesque situation, and we will get it.  Dubbah is really torn apart in the second half, and it’s a masterpiece of subtlety the way this actor just lets that be what is going on, and doesn’t force it in our faces.  Very powerful stuff.

“we knew who we were, and why we got up in the morning…”

That’s really what makes this experience something unforgettable:  they trust the audience.  They let us figure it out.  Scot Whitney has a gift in that way, I’ve noted it in his productions before.  He puts subtle things in, ideas, moments, and you can catch them if you’re watching and you’re thinking.  Even with tragedies, there’s a joy there, like a kid just bubbling over with excitement to share this wonderful thing with us. He is a perfect fit as a director for Israel Horovitz’ work. I hope this is a partnership that will happen again, and I hope I’m able to come and see it happen.  Things rarely fall together so perfectly as they did in this production.

“you got out, Phil. You were lucky.”

Now to my only confusion:  what is the central mystery, here?  There are several, and one of them, the illness which I thought was going to be the central theme, faded away.  But I don’t think I want that mystery cleared up : what I’m getting from this now is that the quiet and insidious way that particular illness kills serves as a perfect vehicle and symbol for the real illness that possesses each of these characters: their regret. And so perhaps it doesn’t need to be talked about again. It is the catalyst, and it is still present at the end.

“those demons are, now and forevermore, at peace.”

The characters who never appear, the women, are present in that their struggles and sorrows find tragic resonance in the lives of their lovers, their sons, their husbands.  Mr. Horovitz explores the tricky thing that is responsibility: anger for someone else’s pain, regret that they sat by and let it happen, wonder at their strength, violence born when the first woman was silent. It’s really a play about fathers and sons; and yet it’s also tangled up with the women. You simply can’t unravel one edge of it and say “this is the beginning”, and that’s a puzzle to me. And I quite like that.

In closing I must talk about the writing itself. Israel Horovitz is not merely a playwright, he’s a wordsmith. He puts sounds and meaning together in such a way that we can get sheer enjoyment from the words themselves.  The tempo of the words are so beautifully real, it made me want to weep.  They don’t always finish sentences- he shines a loving light on the way we really talk.  There is an argument in act I that peaks, with nearly overlapping words, and then there’s a silence, and a fog horn…it’s like going to the ballet.

Nice job on sound, Gina Salerno!  The foghorn is a perfect counterpoint to the action, and serves as a constant reminder of what is outside: these men, used to getting up early to work on boats, with no work any more they still get up early, and they carry their past with them. And outside the door of the unemployment office is the sea, their livelihood and, later, their accomplice. 

“Let them go.”

Finally: a word about the ending.  Dear Mr. Horovitz, if you change this ending, I will find you, and I will send you stale marshmallow Peeps until your mailbox is full of them.  It allows us in, we are there at the end; we’ve come on this journey and now we are in the small town, we ARE the small town. Only the difference is, we’re sitting there knowing the inside story that the townspeople will never know. And it makes us giggle, and then, with the last three words of the play, I found myself shaking, with tears on my face.  It leaves us with something, lets us walk home with a candle against the dark.  It changes us. Please don’t change it.