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The play is memory .Being a memory play, it is dimly lighted, it is sentimental, it is not realistic.
- A Glass Menagerie, Tennessee Williams.
A few thoughts on two current Chicago productions of The Glass Menagerie and Our Town that I've recently seen...
If you are a product of the public school system, you've probably seen or read these highly regarded American standards back when you were in junior high or high school. Or, maybe your brother/sister/cousin was in a college production. Perhaps your weird aunt dragged you to see it when you were a kid, trying to instill some sense of culture into the clay that is your brain.
I've seen them. I've seen both plays so many times and performed so awfully (so many times) and approached so similarly that, at some point back, I took a silent oath to avoid them. Been there. Done that. Me likely new works, thanks and there's the door.
But, I recently broke my vow and saw both in a matter of weeks.
Thanks to the talents of the directors, actors and technicians involved ...and the writers long past caring...I am eating a big bowl of crow. I'm choking on my fixed stance, "Never again shall I suffer through that." A big lesson to learn. (For the 427th time, I'm sure.)
Our Town
I read somewhere that OT is the "most performed American play." In my experience, most productions of OT fall prey to one of two fatalities. They either:
A) embrace (in a Lenny-esque grip) the historical and turn-of-the-century-ness of the play. Spending more time on costumes and regional dialects and the search to find "the perfect ladder", or...
B) they overreach with an effort to "modernize" the text and it becomes the caricature equivalent of "rapping" Shakespearean verse.
Both roads lead to a focus on the style rather than on the substance of Wilder's greater truth. Wide swings in the wrong directions.
The Hypocrites production of Our Town - directed by David Cromer - feels balanced in a way so simple and deft in the unfolding - it places you beautifully off-balance. The actors wield such light touches...it erased every overly nostalgic and overproduced performance that I've suffered previously. My heart, oof...she is grateful.
In trying to describe the loveliness of the third act (without giving anything away), I believe that the best reference I can give is this: It gave me the same powerful sensation as watching Dorothy open the door of her house and seeing Oz for the first time in technicolor, as a kid. I literally held my breath as I watched that moment unfold.
I think Thorton would be proud.
This is a remount of an earlier run (that was a sell-out.) It closes this Sunday. I have no idea if there are any tickets left, but if there are, I highly recommend you scrambling ass over teakettle to get yer paws on one.
The Glass Menagerie
Last Sunday, I went and saw our good friend Mr. Dastmalchian in Shattered Globe's production of The Glass Menagerie. (You may know Mr. Dastmalchian as "the guy who played [my] son in Metaluna" or as "that guy in the Wendy's commercial who played [my] son in Metaluna.")
It had been about a month since I had seen OT. I was still wary - Tennessee Williams is one of those playwrights that can so easily be over saturated with the southern charm of the downtrodden aging belle. It's a slippery slope into caricature, but, when his plays are performed truthfully, it's really a thing of beauty to behold.
I had a lot of confidence in our friend Mr. D. and had heard some good word of mouth. It was really well done. Once again, as I stuffed my craw with crow, I was surprised and delighted with the performances and the direction!
That is, with the sole notable exception of the actress who played Laura. She stunk. Her performance was cartoonish in comparison with the grounded loveliness of the other three solid actors. I'm not sure if she's just one of those folks who thinks acting = making faces, or if this is just a poor casting choice. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and say maybe, she'd done stronger work in other roles, but as a frail, disconnected, overly sensitive girl? I didn't believe her for a minute.
(Post show, my friend B who also saw the show called me and read the TimeOut Review. I disagree with one thing...as much as the role of Laura falls flat, I think it's still worth checking out based on the quality of the rest of the actors.)
That said, the three other actors were so very strong, that they buoyed the lead weight that was Laura. The mother - played with just the right amount of sugar-laced overbearance - had more than one moment where you really saw the love for her children and not just the frightening attempts at control. The gentleman caller was a cold (refreshing) bucket of reality and was played with a likable naturalism that I honestly hadn't seen before. (Normally, the GC is an overplayed construct caught between the "football hero" and the over-enthusiastic moron.) It was so fantastic to see him grounded in such a perfect counter to the family's dreamy dysfunction.
Of course, Mr. D...was just fine. (Well, I don't want to give him a fat head so please don't tell him I thought he was disgruntled perfection in a rumpled suit)
Ah, screw it. Dave has such a wonderful way of embodying his characters that jolts me into remembering why I love going and watching live theater. Then again, I'm biased. I sat in a wheelchair and listened to him read me Dickens for a couple months and got hair gel in my mouth most nights.
You'd think he was the bees knees if he made you cry every night and then forced you to inhale his Dep covered cranium, too.
SG's production only has two weeks left. If you're a value shopper, like me you'll check out HotTix and cut $10 off the $35 ticket price. GO SEE IT.
Both of these productions are beautiful to watch and cracked my brain open. Which is what good theater should do. Three cheers for good theater. We need you, baby. Now more than ever.
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