1-16-09
Solid Ensemble On Board for Seafarer
Conor McPherson has taken on the mantle of next great Irish playwright and has certainly received plenty of exposure here in Chicago with productions of The Weir, and Shining City (after the Tony Award winning production in New York). Now Steppenwolf has turned over their entire building to him with simultaneous productions of Dublin Carol in the studio and The Seafarer on the mainstage.
And there’s good reason for McPherson’s popularity. He handles the traditional Irish storytelling mainstays—drinking, reminiscing, regret—well, but adds a touch of the strange that leavens his more traditional elements. If McPherson’s writing is a little slick and if he’s a bit over dependent on the monologue (which was his point of entry in dramatic writing), well those are relatively small issues that some theatregoers may even see as strengths.
The Seafarer begins a bit like a male version of Martin McDonagh’s The Beauty Queen of Leenane (the last writer to be dubbed the next great Irish playwright). Sharky (a mild Francis Guinan) has come home to take care of his older brother, Richard (John Mahoney), who has been recently struck blind. Ivan (Alan Wilder), a friend of Richard’s, spends more time at the brother’s house than he does at home, where he lives in fear of his wife.
For a time, that’s the play. Richard rides Sharky with alternating whines, demands and praise, while the ineffectual Ivan searches for his glasses. But just as you’re starting to wonder if this is going to be it, two newcomers arrive. One is Nicky (Randall Newsome), who has married Sharky’s ex-wife. The other is a mysterious stranger, Mr. Lockhart (Tom Irwin), who, it turns out, has come looking for Sharkey to collect a 25-year-old debt of the most fundamental sort.
The play’s strength lies in the strong ensemble work present on stage. Many of these actors have worked together repeatedly, and their comfort level is clear and works especially well for these characters. Guinan has mastered the understatement, presenting a vision of a beaten man, except for the occasional moment when a bit of fight gleams forth. Mahoney is very much in his zone and occasionally is a little too aware of the way his tricks will work. Irwin manages to play an iconic character very well, and while he occasionally pushes the schmacting, he mostly avoids those traps and manages to show some of the pain beneath his enigmatic character’s surface. The five actors embody this play at a level that’s a pleasure to watch.
Any complaints are minor, relative to the overall level of craft on display in both the script and the performances. The story lacks ambiguity: there really aren’t any secrets as the piece moves along except to see whether Sharkey will be forced to pay up. The craft in the writing—breaking seriousness with humor—is occasionally a bit too overt. But McPherson’s got a strong feel for this dialogue and the comedy helps carry the audience along, even if there’s relatively little mystery. And in the end, the real pleasure is watching five actors with well over 100 years of experience demonstrate their skill.
The Seafarer, Steppenwolf Theatre Co.
Chris Jones, Tribune—“Following triumphant runs in London and on Broadway under the author’s direction, The Seafarer, which is not to be missed, arrives at the Steppenwolf Theatre in a powerful new production from Randall Arney that loses some of the authentic slice of Irish life depicted in the original version with its definitive Anglo-Irish cast, but mostly replaces it with Steppenwolf’s intimate, visceral signature and, surprisingly, a much thicker slice of New World hope and human compassion.”
Hedy Weiss, Sun-Times—“These are the bare bones of The Seafarer, whose rip-roaring mood swings have been impeccably orchestrated by director Randall Arney and his bravura cast. The rest is banter, blarney, booze, pratfalls and the white-hot bargaining for a soul. The currency being wagered is language; just listen to the men riff on the properties of numbers.”
Barbara Vitello, Daily Herald—“He [Guinan] is quite simply one of the best, most consistent actors working in the Chicago area. If you don’t know his name, you should. After watching him in Steppenwolf’s potent production of Conor McPherson’s The Seafarer, you won’t forget it. Guinan makes up one-fifth of director Randall Arney’s powerhouse cast—a sort of Steppenwolf royal flush—that also includes ensemble members John Mahoney, Alan Wilder and Tom Irwin, along with Randall Newsome in his Steppenwolf debut.”
Justin Hayford, Reader—“For most of its 90-minute first act, Conor McPherson’s 2006 play delivers the booze-soaked pathos one expects from great Irish storytelling. Blind fussbudget Richard (John Mahoney) and his long-suffering caretaker Sharky (Francis Guinan) plan a mirthless Christmas Eve with hapless neighbor Ivan (played with bumbling grace by Alan Wilder). But just as the trio’s tortuous, intricate relations begin to jell into tragedy under the methodical urgency of Randall Arney’s direction, McPherson interjects a supernatural twist that renders his human tale largely incidental. Still, the cast’s meticulous performances make the hijacked narrative compelling.”
Kris Vire, Time Out—“McPherson tempers his reliance on storytelling tradition; this is the first of his plays we’ve seen that functions less as a series of monologues and more as a natural interaction among an ensemble. And oh, what an ensemble: The interplay among Francis Guinan’s self-loathing Sharky, John Mahoney’s blithely selfish Richard and Tom Irwin’s smooth-talking Mr. Lockhart grounds the play in moral realism. The powerhouse acting displayed by Arney’s cast infuses McPherson’s fable, even with the playwright’s pat twist ending that’s visible from miles away, with an urgency that has us on the edge of our seats.”
Dennis Pokow, New City—“For my taste, McPherson wants to have the sophistication and metaphor of The Seventh Seal with the religious sensibility of The Omen, but like booze and religion, these make for strange companions. Perhaps when the brain is booze-soaked, people need more radical wake-up calls, and for those of a fundamentalist disposition who like to get drunk, this is your holiday play. For the rest of us, thankfully, there is enough of McPherson’s eloquent writing and a first-class Steppenwolf ensemble who act the shit out of this material enough to make this a worthwhile experience, even sober.”
Lawrence Bommer, Free Press—“Saving the show from its script, Randall Arney’s Steppenwolf staging delivers performances that are dead reckoning. Despite some shaky accents, this ensemble adeptly capture the sloppy intimacy of old friends lubricating themselves into oblivion. They all work together—Mahoney’s sly digs as the control-freak brother, Wilder’s paralyzed look as Ivan considers the angry wife from whom he’s temporarily escaped, and Newsome’s clumsy attempts to lift idiotic anecdotes into shared legends. In contrast, there’s Guinan’s glum-pussed Sharky, whose lack of connections defines him more than the others’ feckless bonhomie. Finally, Irwin’s loud, humorless and ultimately lonely Lockhart acts as a walking curse intent on sending Sharky from one misery to a worse one.”
The Maids, Writers Theatre
Chris Jones, Tribune—“[Director Jimmy] McDermott doesn’t fully succeed in maintaining dramatic tension, one of this play’s trickiest challenges. Still, those open to the intimately unconventional (and able to last the 100 intermission-less minutes) will find a great deal to admire. Both of these actresses are very accomplished and provocative. [Helen] Sadler brings a cheeky, feral, fully invested quality to Claire; [Elizabeth] Laidlaw, a perpetually mysterious thespian, forges a wound-tight Solange. Both women could and should delve further (heck, it’s Genet), but they already have established an aptly mysterious, yet mutually invested, relationship.”
Hedy Weiss, Sun-Times—“Though a keystone of revolutionary 20th century theater, The Maids is only rarely revived, and it is not difficult to see why. It requires a trio of supremely gifted and experienced actresses who can establish and sustain the twisted spell Genet weaves. Go too far and you have a campy transvestite melodrama. Capture the heart and soul of the play, as Helen Sadler, Elizabeth Laidlaw and Niki Lindgren do in director Jimmy McDermott’s enthralling production, and it is far more disturbing.”
Tony Adler, Reader—“McDermott seems to know what’s in the bundle of contradictions that is The Maids. His production acknowledges the play’s philosophic and erotic elements. But it can’t seem to handle them both at once. This is especially evident in the long opening passage, in which Claire and Solange play their first, fraught game of Mistress and Maid using a wonderfully ridiculous red gown by Rachel Anna Healy. Helen Sadler, in particular, never gives a sense of getting a thrill out of the game. She plays Claire with an intensity that says, We’re dealing with some big ideas here, and I for one am not going to get distracted from them. Which, of course, banishes the sexiness that’s absolutely necessary to expressing those big ideas.”
John Beer, Time Out—“The Maids opens with a masterful set piece in which the younger maid, Claire (Sadler), plays the mistress of the older maid, Solange (Laidlaw), a ritualistic encounter that simultaneously evokes a sadomasochistic scenario and Genet’s ideal pi-ata, the Catholic Mass (no comment on their affinities). From the moment when Claire reveals herself as a maid, McDermott’s energetic direction keeps the audience lurching from one revelation to the next, remaining faithful both to the dense poetry of Genet’s language (ably translated by Crimp) and to his deviously complex mousetrap plot.”
Fabrizio O. Almeida, New City—“Given Writers’ recent output, it’s not surprising that this revival has met all these challenges and surpassed them to amass a production of considerable intellect and artistry: director Jimmy McDermott’s staging is the epitome of finesse; Elizabeth Laidlaw’s Solange, Helen Sadler’s Claire and Niki Lindren’s Madame offer performances of psychological precision; and the design team has transformed the intimate, fifty-seat Books on Vernon venue into a gorgeous and claustrophobic French boudoir setting replete with ornate floral prints, black crystal lamps and pink velvet walls.”
Brian Kirst, Free Press—“Jimmy McDermott directs Martin Crimp’s crisp translation with a surplus of nihilistic detail and obvious passion for the source material. His moody layering of the action is highlighted by Brian Sidney Bembridge’s exquisitely velvet set and Rachel Anne Healy’s sumptuous costumes. In fact, Bembridge’s subtle work looks as photogenically real as the majestic homes in Glencoe that one passes on the way to the theater.”
Mary Shen Barnidge, Windy City—“Under Jimmy McDermott’s surgical direction, however, Elizabeth Laidlaw and Helen Sadler keep us anchored in our spectatorial vantage even as the intense conviction with which their personae pursue their escape invokes our profound sympathies. The fresh air of a winter night is never so welcome—or the placid coziness of surrounding homes so ominous—as after this behind-closed-doors thriller.”
Marvin’s Room, redtwist
Chris Jones, Tribune—“I wouldn’t claim every performance is spot-on…Its stakes take a while to rise, and its spell is sporadic rather than constant. But you always have the sense here that [director Michael] Ryczek and his crew understand the heart and pulse of this special Chicago play especially well. Thanks mostly to two very wise and authentic performances from the droll Jan Ellen Graves (who plays the wise-but-stricken Bessie) and Betty Scott Smith (who plays her elderly Aunt Ruth), this new little version of Marvin’s Room is an uncommonly sweet and moving show.”
Justin Hayford, Reader—“Redtwist Theatre’s cast are more in tune with the script’s tear-jerking side, often capturing myriad painful undercurrents in seemingly innocuous familial encounters. Jan Ellen Graves as leukemia-stricken Bessie and Sam Johnston as her troubled adolescent nephew give particularly nuanced performances, and their two extended scenes together are the production’s highlights. But director Michael Ryczek’s methodical pacing rarely allows comedic rhythms to develop, making the script’s already forced screwball elements feel heavy and out of place.”
Yoni Ki Baat, Rasaka Theatre Company
Kerry Reid, Reader—“This evening of stories about the sexuality of South Asian women overcomes the defects of its model, Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues. Where Ensler attempted to channel many women through her voice—with sometimes generic results—Yoni Ki Baat brings together a range of writers, assuring that nearly each piece has a refreshing specificity and distinct tone… Despite some overwritten moments, director Lavina Jadhwani’s Rasaka Theatre production creates warm, engaging snapshots of desi women and their desires.”
Quote of the Fortnight:
“New musicals are tough. Really tough. I’ll take that a step further. New musicals that don’t poke fun at themselves are toughest of all.”—Chris Jones writing about Bowery Boys in the Tribune.”