Theatre Review: La Maculée / sTain, March 2011

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet


La Maculée / sTain
Written by Madeleine Blais-Dahlem
Directed by Marie-Eve Gagnon
La Troupe du Jour
The Refinery (Saskatoon)
Latroupedujour.ca

Outside of Canada, it is probably not widely known that Quebec is not the only province with a large Francophone population. Actually, between the Métis, gold rush migrants and homesteaders, Saskatchewan has many residents who have families that originated in Quebec and settled on the prairies.

This fact is just a beginning point in the thematically complex and compelling play La Maculée / sTain, staged by La Troupe du Jour, which focuses on a Montreal native become Saskatchewan resident, Françoise, who moves to the province when she marries Bernard, a resident of the Battlefords area. What starts as a deep love that sired five (unseen) children, twists into a bitter resentment, providing the frame for the storyline. But I jump ahead.

Set in the in 1920s, the play is mostly in French, with subtitles projected above the stage. The story jumps back and forth from the time the couple met toward the denouement, explaining how and why the situation has deteriorated. Using a very simple and yet eloquent stage (designed by David Granger), every element is used at one point or another.

[writer Madeleine Blais-Dahlem]
Devising a story that started out with a memory from her mother’s time, Saskatchewan writer Madeleine Blais-Dahlem was propelled to craft this drama when she heard about a female suicide bomber, and thought spontaneously: “Religion is still killing women.” These two points wove together in her consciousness to generate this play, which does not denounce religion as evil, but treats it as something that can be used for that purpose. As Bernard transforms into a Pentecostal snake-oil salesman searching for big bucks through tent revivals, while his innocent and deeply Catholic wife, Françoise, struggles with the toll it takes on her beliefs. As a result, Françoise eventually checks herself into the local mental clinic on a more-or-less regular basis to get away from the situation; Bernard wants to lock her away forever.

There are six characters in the play, each embodying the symbols of a patriarchal (Father, Son, Holy Spirit) and matriarchal (Maiden, Mother, Crone) belief system. I’ll go in that order:

The Father figure is Dr. Maurice Johnson, the head psychiatrist of the mental hospital, played with just the right amount of sanctimonious blindness and condescension by veteran stage actor Ian C. Nelson. He knows that Françoise is not crazy, but rather than trying to root out why she keeps checking herself into the hospital, is more interested in proving himself right in relation to contemporary theory. Father does not know what’s best for Françoise, and since she is “merely a woman” in his eyes, he listens to her, but does not necessarily hear, much like one might say the “Man above” does with prayers.

Bernard, strongly portrayed by Gilles Poulin-Denis, is mentored by another religious faker who trains and uses Bernard to front his operation of religious fervor. Poulin-Denis convincingly plays his character as he is slowly transformed from a struggling farmer into a high-powered and abusive man who will let nothing stand in his way, be it his loving wife or using his children to further his aim. Through his retraining from a shy French-speaking Catholic into the hellfire English-tongued Pentecostal, he grows up to be someone feared rather than loved. Poulin-Denis walks the line between the two sides of Bernard, as he travels back and forth between before and after his “conversion.”

As for the Holy Spirit, New Brunswick native Bruce McKay is electrifying as the Real Preacher Man (as his character is listed), lighting up the stage from the moment he enters Françoise and Bernard’s lives as a door-to-door salesman, selling bottled religious remedies. He convinces the couple that his “medicine” (actually poured straight from a liquor bottle) is a miracle elixir. Through the transaction, he sees something in Bernard that convinces him to take him under his tutelage by teaching him English, and fostering enough confidence to take on the role of leading revival groups. McKay commands the stage as soon as the door opens for him, making him quite convincing as this evil, conniving, shady character.

Françoise is the poor Maiden, taken advantage of by the patriarchy in a system and time period where she has few rights. Torn between her religious beliefs, and having been taught that she is supposed to be “obedient” to her husband who is becoming someone else before her eyes, she watches as her children are exploited under Bernard’s tent as props to lure people in; they are also used as a weapon as Bernard turns them against their mother. Marie-Claire Marcotte using a full range of emotions from timidity to fear to absolute rage in a fit of futility, portrays Françoise as a person torn both emotionally and physically by everything she loves. It is a powerful role in which Marcotte shines.

The Mother image is personified in the hospital’s nurse, Louise, played by Alicia Johnston. Like Françoise, Louise is an intelligent woman who is forced to operate under the direction of a man, Dr. Johnson, who is less empathic than she is. She understands Françoise’s plight better than perhaps anyone in the play, including Françoise, but is powerless to do much about it. Instead, she takes Françoise under her wing and gives her what none of the males who control her life can: compassion. Johnston’s role is warm and nurturing for the audience as well, as a lonely symbol of what is right. Nurses who know better are too often stuck being subservient to doctors and systems who do not have the time or inclination to do the deepest caring work, even today.

The last character is Françoise’s mysterious neighbor, a First Nation’s woman who is seen fleetingly. As the embodiment of the wise Crone, she is someone who occasionally takes care of Françoise in times of need, drawing on tribal knowledge, without dialogue, and with no expectation of reciprocation. She is such an enigmatic individual, covered over from head to toe, that she is not even listed in the program (my guess is she is played by McKay, who has little to do in the second act).

Even the very title of the play is more than it seems. For example, there is no English word for Maculée, loosely translated as the opposite of “Immaculate,” as in the Immaculate Conception (Mother Mary is a significant symbolic presence in this story in the form of a statuette). The term “Stain” may be one way to interpret the term, but it is spelled in lower case here, with the “T” capitalized to represent the Cross.

[Director Marie-Eve Gagnon]
While being drenched in symbolism, the play is actually quite accessible, though emotionally wrought. Despite the tendency for these kinds of stories have all the men function as oppressors and all the women as the oppressed, it’s a moral tale for all about how a sexual caste system is unhealthy both for the exploited, through social constructions of victimization, and for the persecutor, whose potentials are distorted under the rigors of a culture of masculinist training.

As an amusing sidenote, I found it mildly ironic that the production was put on in the Refinery, which used to be a church rectory.

Theater Review: Lost, by Arnold Schulman

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet
Further info about this production is at the bottom

Previously, the tele/play Lost has only been staged once since its inception in 1956, and that was on live television, directed by Arthur Penn. Written by renowned author, playwright, and screenplay writer Arnold Schulman (A Hole in the Head, The Night They Raided Minskey’s, Funny Lady, to name just a few), this production is now being re-introduced by the Haberdasher Theatre Company and produced by Arthur’s son, Peter.

Back when live television was new, live dramatic shows were written by the likes of Schulman and Paddy Chayefsky (Marty, Network). The medium was untested and lines of tradition were not yet drawn, so possibilities were endless. One of the proofs of this openness was the avant-garde Lost, which is both ideal for a small, independent troupe, and yet it must have been a tough direct, though Patrick Sherrer did a magnificent job.

Set in 1950, Lost is about a man named Walter Uhlan, who has not necessarily become unstuck in time, but lost in his own skin. Roaming about New York City in 28 locations, projected brilliantly on a black, stark set using mostly plastic milk crates as the only props, Walter is both trying to find out who he is and why he is repeatedly drawn to particular locales, but also innately finding it freeing from a life he does not understand, and on some level wishes to escape. He is in almost constant motion, going here and there, but not knowing why or what draws him.

[Lee Solomon as Walter and Keri Taylor as Arlene in the foreground]
The entire hour-long play takes place in one day, as Walter and the ensemble of 11 flow, sometimes in slow motion, like eddies that sometimes flow around him and other times changing his direction. Each of the cast, with the exception of Solomon, plays more than one character.

An interesting theme of the piece is that as a bookend between some events, characters who have or had a relationship with Walter talk to the audience in a monolog and explain parts of his history, filling in the pieces slowly but surely, such as his wife and her best friend, his father, father-in-law, next door neighbor as a kid, and even a jazz singer/B-girl who tries to help him this strange day.

A central motif of Lost is not a new one, which is how one can be truly lonely in a city of multi-millions, but it is done exceedingly well without being overwhelming, thanks in part to the writing, and also to the interpretation by the cast and crew.

Lee Solomon, a member of a number of online and live sketch comedy troupes, shines as Walter, giving him many layers of complexity, as the character truly needs. At one moment his Walter just wants to be left alone, huddled in a corner, the next racing to a location – be it landmark or even a different city – in a state of near mania. Lee plays him both weak and strong, effectively bouncing between the emotions and never losing the audience.

As Arlene, one of the two main female leads, Keri Taylor portrays the jazz singer and possible prostitute (a strong step on live television in the 1950s) who is at first as hard as nails, then slowly melts when she begins to realize that as strong as Walter is, there is a vulnerability to him. It was pretty obvious Keri was relishing the role, which made the audience’s viewing all the more enjoyable.

Another strong character – though I wish she had been more flushed out – was Walter’s wife, Mildred, played convincingly by Lauren Kelston. Lauren’s character is hurt and confused by what her life has been, being married to someone she was pushing towards her own desires of status (i.e., as being the wife of someone successful). I’m not sure if it was in the original play or this company’s interpretation, but there seemed to be an implied relationship with her best friend, which was a nice, subtle touch.

Bill Bria has a double-dip role as a somber doctor who talks to Walter, helping to put a piece into the puzzle of his life, and also does the announcing by giving both an intro and an outro to the piece. This is quite a different role than the last time I saw him in Michael Weems’s Onward, Forward, just exemplifying what I suspected: the man has a nice range.

There are lots I’d like to discuss about the ending and its meaning here, but I try not to give too many plot points – especially the conclusion – so suffice it to say that this play is a thought-provoking production, and the cast, director, and production crew did a heartfelt charge on a deserving and complex piece.

[Peter Schulman]
After the show, writer Arnold Schulman was scheduled to give a talk about the play, but due to an illness, was unable to attend. In his place however, his son Peter Schulman, who is an academic man of letters, gave a joyous, off-the-cuff and behind-the-scenes story of how he came across the text (among many) in his dad’s attic, and pursued getting it produced. He also told tales of Arnold’s life, his own growing up with a famous dad and the company Arnold kept, and even some stories about his father’s experiences in Hollywood (both good and bad). Peter is a good speaker who kept everyone mesmerized (including the cast who sat among the audience and were as fascinated as we were).

When he finished his presentation and Q&A period, I had the opportunity to talk to Peter privately about one of Arnold’s earlier works, A Hole in the Head. He had explained during his presentation that it was written for Jewish characters, but when put on the screen, it starred Frank Sinatra and Edward G. Robinson, and was made “Italian,” instead (which is ironic, since Robinson was Jewish). I told Peter that though I hadn’t seen the film in many years, my memory of it as a kid was that it was about Jews, rather than Italians, which seemingly brought some satisfaction to Peter. We definitely shared a landsman moment.

[Bill Bria]
On the way out, I stopped off to give a greeting to Bill Bria, as we have been communicating through Facebook about The Hays Office period of film gatekeeping, which is a topic in which we both are interested. Bill also gave me his own interesting incites about the experience of working on this piece, including that the original intro was Rod Serling-ish, but they decided not to do it that way as it would have been too easy.

After the show, I walked down to O’Flannery’s bar on 46 Street and caught some of the set by one of my favorite local singer-songwriters, Randy Stern, and picked up his new CD, which will be reviewed at my column in Jersey Beat.

The Looking Glass Theatre, 422 West 57th Street (between 9th and 10th Ave.)
www.haberdashertheatre.com/
Haberdasher Theatre's Mission: Haberdasher Theatre champions free expression and creative thought and strives to serve our patrons by presenting edgy and inventive theatre that will reawaken the ardor for live theatre, both as an art form and a source of entertainment. Haberdasher Theatre also serves as a launching pad for new and mid-career artists, including playwrights, actors, and musicians, who wish to share new, interesting and thoughtful works of art.

Theater Review: I, Undertow (Beckmann Theatre)

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet

In the staging of his latest play, I, Undertow, prolific playwright and Emmy winner Blake Bradford once again focuses his characters in rural western North Carolina, where he was raised.

[Blake Bradford, playwright]
In this Phare Play Production at the Beckmann Theater at 314 West 54 Street (through April 5), he focuses on the return of a favored grand/son, a budding painter on the verge of fame who had left his home a dozen years before to move to New York, and has now arrived home to see the ailing matriarch’s last days. The relations to whom he returns are sprawling, including some extended family folks. Along the way, he brings with him his lusty and out-of-comfort-zone British art dealer, directly after a one-night fling.

[Attending services]
The Morgan family is deeply spiritual, with many scenes depicting services either in or around the church, and the characters throughout sing many hymnals, especially during scene breaks as transitions. Bradford explains in the program, “I grew up in a small community of religious conservatives and although I decided hot to live my life in the same manner as these people, I do understand them. I have seen how beautiful a church service can be and how lives can be changed through religious communities.” He brings that made flesh to the audience.

[Michael Weems, expatriate painter Justin Morgan]
We are first introduced to the main protagonist, Justin Morgan, as he begins his night of passion with his agent and art dealer, the sophisticated Monica LeTourneau. Justin is a wounded soul who has a memory gap from his teen years that drove him away, leading him to New York. He is about to head back home when the call that his dearly loved and superbly strong willed grandmother is approaching her time to leave this veil. Michael Weems subtly underplays Justin as someone who has become more sophisticated than his family on some levels, but still humbled by his background. Plus there is a mystery about why he left, which of course will be made clear by the end of the two hours.

[Sara Lerner, art dealer Monica LeTourneau]
As the lust interest who travels down to the small town with Justin for a lark (and to secure her latch on him for commission security), Sara Lerner is long and slender in a part that was seemingly written for her (though I don’t really understand why Monica is British, except possibly to make her all the more alien and alienated from anyone else; being a high-brow New Yorker probably would have worked just as fine). Although initially not sure of her place in the family (or even with Justin, for that matter), which is keenly expressed in a bean-snapping scene (literally and figuratively), Monica slowly comes to appreciate the slower pace and the good heart of the Morgan family.

[Carol Neiman, matriarch Eunice Morgan]
As the ailing mother of two sons and two grandkids, Carol Neiman plays Eunice Morgan with dignity and respect. She is a woman of her era, who knows how little time she has left and has the strong desire to set everything right – as she sees it – before death comes a-knockin’. She is one of the many catalysts in a play about resilient women who have strong opinions, and are not afraid to make them clear. Eunice is the loving center of it all, and I saw the gentleman in front of me wiping away some tears at a tender moment near the final act, which attests to both the writing and the talent of Carol, who came to the acting field later in life.

[Bill Purdy, religious leader Paul Daniel Morgan]
The elder of Eunice’s two sons is the pastor at the local church, Paul Daniel Morgan, played with conviction by Bill Purdy. For most of the play, Paul Daniel is present as spiritual leader, brother, and uncle, and it is not clear until much later what pivotal role he has in the story. His place appears to be guidance to the family, to help them through their troubled times, though he has some quandaries of his own with which to deal.

[Laurence Waltman, father Grayson Morgan]
Paul Daniel’s brother Grayson, ably played by Laurence Waltman, is in a hard place: while still in love with his repressed wife, he also is coming off an affair with a much younger employee, and is penitent for it. Despite the Jerry Springer moment, Grayson is actually a warm-hearted character who easily has the audience on his side, despite the dastardly deed (performed and ended way before the play starts). It would be quite simple to make him a pitiable milquetoast or the flip of that, a womanizing swine, but his affair comes out of pain, and Laurence plays that character well.

[Peggy Queener, lonely wife Deborah Morgan]
Bored with her surroundings and angry at her cheatin’ hearted husband, Deborah Morgan is looking for something to spark her quiet, unfulfilled life. Peggy Queener is excellent as Deborah, who runs the gamut of anger to expressing her excitement in a most public forum. Armed with a DVD collection and bolstered by face time with the sophisticated Monica, Peggy delivers a strong monolog, which is one of the strangest and funniest moments of the play. Completely likeable, Peggy gives Deborah a dignity that could have been lost in the shrill anger of her frustrated character.

[Emily Fitzpatrick, sibling rival Nicole Morgan]
As the sister of the prodigal son, Nichole Morgan has had to endure knowing that she comes second in her family to her runaway brother, Justin, which has echoing effects on her life (and possibly her marriage). For years she has had to swallow her pride, but especially when he comes back. Luckily, Emily Fitzpatrick is up for the task of making Nichole a clear voice, and is especially strong during her agitated monolog midway in the second act. Emily does a wonderful slow burn, emoting with her face all the anger and anguish that Nicole feels.

[Molly Church, hospice nurse Katie Gouge]
Playing the girl from the past who got away, Molly Church breathes life into Katie Gouge, a long time acquaintance of the Morgan family, and Justin’s ex- who he left behind when he mysteriously left for New York. There is no mystery about Katie’s allegiances and feelings, which Molly plays with quiet pride, giving her a deep strength. She is not just the spurned ex-love interest, she holds an important key to Justin’s secret, and her crucial character shows that she’s not just a dancing donkey nurse’s uniform. There is a subtle focus to the character that Molly embodies.

[Susanne Gottesman-Traub, family friend Aunt Lizzie]
Most people know an Aunt Lizzie, the person in the neighborhood who everyone calls “Aunt” (or “Ma” or “Granny”), but is not related to anyone, but is still part of the family. Susanne Gottesman-Traub personifies this role in a warm, gimme-a-hug way, but under this is one of the strongest of women in the play, who makes a life-changing decision that affects nearly every other character. No, I won’t give it away, but I would like to say that we all need an Aunt Lizzie, and if she were as Susanne embodies her, well, we’d all be better for it.

[Katie and Justin rally round Eunice]
Although this is a play with a male central character (Justin), it is actually the women in the play that are the driving force as the agents for change. The three males are not necessarily weak, but are unsure and unstable, even when in leadership roles. They are either insecure about what is behind them, where they stand presently, where they are going, or any combination. It is the women who take a stand, project their needs, speak their minds, and cause things to happen. Whatever actions the males take, it is through the catalyst of the proceedingss of the women. Stay married or not? Figure out the mysteries of the past? Resolve the problems of the present? It’s the women who are the strongest. Fortunately the female cast members are certainly up for the job of portraying their characters as fierce without being harridans, and the male actors are strong enough to play their men as, well, distracted without making them clowns.

While I understand that religion is an important part of family and relationships in this play, perhaps it was used a bit too freely. For example, as the scenes change from one to another and the cast members change the set props, they sing (quite lovely, actually) hymns to reflect the bond between the characters and their faith. However, occasionally as scene separators, the church is “set up” and the hymns are sung while they sit there for the length of the song, and then the set is broken down again. While I understand and appreciate that seat placement during these vignettes is telling (for example in the Grayson / Deborah relationship), this was perhaps a little overdone, and actually slowed the story flow down rather than pushing it along. That being said, I do like the way Bradford infuses the beliefs of this extended family without hitting the audience over the head with it.

Though he is prolific, I have only seen two plays by Blake Bradford, the other being Gay Slave Handbook, reviewed earlier this month in this blog. Both were departures for him (Gay contained a three-person cast when he usually write for ensembles, and this play is, in his own words, “my first attempt at a love story”), but there are some overlapping themes. For example, both plays have violent fights between close loved ones, a strong belief in faith (in either one or all characters), sexual impropriety, and at some point the action takes place in New York.

To sum up, this is a perceptive ensemble cast who takes the fine material and makes it even better. I look forward to seeing many of these actors in future productions.

Phare Play Mission statement (in part) : The name Phare Play says it all. On one hand it reflects our desire to be the beacon of light in the Off and Off-Off Broadway community. We work to be the lighthouse that artists can find as a home for exploration of their creativity. The second meaning is participation on equal terms (fair play). We are true believers of the power of the ensemble and allow everyone that works on our productions the ability to make their voices heard. Our purpose is to provide a top-quality public arena for the professional implementation of the philosophy and aesthetics our ensemble wishes to explore. Through the collaboration of artists, resident professionals and audiences, we examine the theatrical event and the methods used for its realization in contemporary performance. We explore playmaking in and of our time. We produce a broad variety of material, from classic to contemporary. We encourage both up and coming talent and our seasoned veterans to join our journey. We believe these artists that contribute to our mission will grow with us while stimulating all of us to grow as well. Our artists will always find a home to explore, engage, and entice.

Theater Reviews: SLAMMER / The Shadowbox

Every once in a while, I get to see some good theater, which is all the more special when a friend is involved.

SLAMMER: A New Women-in-Prison Musical, New York Fringe Festival, Skirball Center for the Performing Arts, September 2007
Previously, I had never attended the New York Fringe Festival. For those who don’t know, it’s the chance for independent playwrights to have a forum to get their works staged and noticed. My interest was definitely piqued when I had learned that “SLAMMER”, was one of the entrants.

While I haven’t met co-author Chan Chandler, the other half of the co-, Steve Adams, has been a good friend for over a decade. Hey, I even had the pleasure of reading a very early draft.

At the Skirball Center for the Performing Arts, part of the NYU complex, I waited on line next to a couple of theater “critics” who were, at best, obnoxious, saying things like, “They BETTER have my tickets ready,” and sighing “This is the X Fringe show I’ve seen, and I STILL have to see X more.” Generally they were loud (“Look at me, I’m privileged.”) and abhorrent. I’ve been a performance reviewer for years, and have always taken it with graditude, acknowledging the graciousness of a free entrance. But I digress…

It was a Monday in September, opening night for the show. The theater was surprisingly large, with a good crowd; the stage was filled with bunk beds and moveable “bars”, on which held the “SLAMMER” logo on a banner.

Considering they had about two weeks to mount the play, the stage setting looked sparse, and very professional. As it was basically set in a women’s prison, a sparse set was intended and appropriate.

The initial set up of Tabitha (Merrill Grant), the main character, being wrongly sent to prison is summarily set during the early moments, so the action can get started. From this point, the play is like a sandwich; on one side, there is a vicious warden, a rapacious guard, and various levels of prisoner tension, and the other is the corporation and sponsorship of the privatized prison, and Tabitha is the fresh meat between.

Now, women-in-prison is a sub-genre of exploitation films popular in the ‘60s (e.g., “The Big Bird Cage”, “Terminal Island”, “Red Head”, “Reform School Girls”), and anyone familiar with the style knows that there are going to be fights, death, lesbians, and shower scenes. Yes, SLAMMER Has them all, though the shower scene is more implied than gratuitous.

From the start, we’re introduced to the key players, such as the uncaring, hard-nosed and sexually ambiguously warden, Eva Danka (Lannyl Stephens) and avaricious guard, Smiley the Screw (Saverio Guerra, aka Bob, lately of the TV show “Becker”). Then there is the protective Reverend Mama (the excellent Sandra Reaves-Phillips), her helper/protégé Caramel (Tammi Cubiette) who plays tough but with a heart-o-gold while doing what she can to survive, rival Cat (Tess Paras, who I’m guessing has some serious dance training), and lovers Tina (Courtney Wissinger) and Spike (Ariela Morgenstern). Of course, it will take newbie fish Tabitha to bring them all to the same side.

I know Steve and Chan have been writing for years, both together and individually, but musicals are something that is somewhat unfamiliar territory. However, one would never know that listening to the memorable tunes played here, such as “I Refuse to Live Without Love”, the powerful “What Country Is This?” (which could be a powerhouse with the right singer), “Different on the Inside”, and especially Reverend Mama’s moment to shine: “Along the Road,” which is a solid gospel raver.

Reverend Mama’s Sandra Reaves-Phillips is a gem, and a real coup for this production. She has a long history of performing at the likes of the Cotton Club, the Supper Club, the Village Gate, and other highly touted venues. Courtney Wissinger and Ariela Morgenstern are also standouts as inmates who start out being scary, but end up being a touching and heartbreaking focal point.

I’m not going to go deeply into the story because it is such sheer fun (and at times scary) so I am hoping the play gets into a regular theater run (perfect for Off-Broadway) once it is out of workshop mode.

* * *

The Shadowbox, Matthew Corozine Theatre, October 2007
Not too many years ago, my friend Joe, a Boston-based music publicist, sent me a CD of chanteuse/Broadway-flavored songs by actress Ingrid Saxon. I wrote a favorable review of it, and somehow, we ended up seeing Lesley Gore at Joe’s Pub together (my photos of the show: http://entertainment.webshots.com/album/545717660UbijPa). Recently, I saw on her MySpace page (www.myspace.com/ingridsaxonmusic) that she was going to be appearing Off-Off- in Michael Cristofer’s “The Shadowbox” at the Michael Corozine Theatre, on 8 Avenue and 43rd Street, NYC. An invite soon followed.

In a nutshell, the play takes place in a hospice on the West Coast, with three concurrent stories that take place in three cottages in 1977. Interestingly, the cause of dying is never discussed.

In one story, Maggie (Ingrid Saxon) is a wife who comes to visit her dying husband, Joe (Jacob Mirer). She is in denial, and refuses to enter the cottage because it would mean acceptance. Ingrid give a sensitive, strong and textured performance, howling against the darkness, sometimes literally, in contrast to Joe, who has an almost meditative quiet, though Mirer aptly conveys a fear and anger beneath the surface. They both play their roles as a dance between trying to maintain normalcy and what is lurking. JD Brookshire plays their young, guitar-playing son.

A second story concerns Brian (Lee Barton), his lover Mark (Ryan Link) and his high-strung/-maintenance party-girl ex-wife, Beverly (Robyn Kay Pilarski). Brian is close to both, but Mark and Beverly because, in their own way, they both love the dying Brian. And you know that there is going to be an explosion, and then some understanding between Mark & Bev, with some respect growing in the process. Barton plays the emotionally frail artist type with assurance, bouncing back and forth between trying to accommodate the two most important people in his life, and his own egocentricity. Link plays ex-hustler Mark as smoldering, torn between his distaste/jealously of Bev and his own feelings toward Brian. His slow emotional breakdown is played well with great restraint. Equally, Pilarski could easily let her character turn to caricature, but she admirably makes Bev into a sympathetic full-flushed person. Her training in comedy gives an additional inflection.

The final story focuses on a semi-senile elderly woman, Felicity (Heidi Zenz) and her overburdened caretaker daughter, Agnes (Jillian Prefach), who is pretty much ignored by her mom, who is waiting for a visit from her prodigal daughter. Zenz doesn’t have much to do in the play other than call out for her other child, but Zenz does convey hope and fear mostly through her eyes, thereby giving more substance and depth to her role. At first, the role of Agnes is subdued, much as is her character, but as the play progresses, her part becomes one of the strongest, including a powerful centerpiece monologue that Prefach absolutely nails.

The lynchpin to the three stories is an interviewer/therapist (David Lipman, who is also known as the arraignment judge on “Law and Order” – Ta-DEM), who at various times talks to the various characters. All of this is from the back of the theater, but his presence is also strong to the events.

Showcases can be iffy as actors try (and sometimes over-try) to impress, but none of that happened here, as every single member of the large cast in the small, cramped – yet intimate – theater was in top form. Much credit for this should be given to the director, Matthew Corozine (who employs the Meisner Technique, FYI) for getting such strong work out of his group, ably helped by AD Mark J. Paynter.

After the show, I stayed around to congratulate Ingrid for her fine performance, and had the opportunity to say hello to a number of the actors, including Ryan Link. He gave me a CD of his band, Kill the Camera, which will be reviewed at another time. Also Jacob Mirer and director Mathew Corozine were quite generous with their time and were gracious with their company.

Now, let’s see this play make it from Off-Off- to Off-.