Fame or Famine

Okay, kids; there is something going on in Oak Park, Illinois, that you should really be aware of. There is currently a theatre production there that is worth more than the price you pay to get in.

“But can it be??”, you bellow, “How on earth…?”, but it’s true. I paid $20 to get into a show last night that would have been an enjoyable steal at $30. And I’m a cheap bitch when it comes to entertainment, so you know I mean it.

Arthur Miller’s All My Sons is a dark play about the failures of the human condition; when desire collides with reality everyone is profoundly disappointed. It’s Miller through and through. The storyline is well flushed out and the characters are deceptive in their simplicity. As always with Miller, in All My Sons the audience doesn’t know what it’s in for when what begins as an idyllic summer day turns slowly and almost imperceptibly to hell on earth.The performer bar was set at ridiculous heights early on by two of the main actors; Lanny Lutz (Joe Keller) and Patrice Egleston (Kate Keller). From the opening moments, Lanny’s performance was one that left most of the audience awestruck. His depth of character, the way it overtook his entire body and being, was haunting. He made me love Joe and, later, hate him. Patrice was too young for the role of Kate but within a few seconds I completely forgot the discrepancy. She had a haunted look about her that aged her in some imperceptible way and her lightly determined youth also seemed appropriate for someone living so firmly in the past.

Where Lanny left the starting gate at top form, Patrice left more slowly and gave the audience time to grow adjusted to her character. By the end, when Kate discovered what happened to her lost son, Larry, Patrice had the character and the audience firmly in hand. Her stricken face flew right to the heart. As Joe devolved, Kate evolved, and over time we learn that what seemed mad was sane. Kate made sense, and your heart broke for her, even as you wanted to shake her to reality.

Were I a director on any stage I’d do whatever it took to woo Lanny and Patrice into my next show. They are two of that rare breed of actor that is actually worth watching.

The two other main players, Kevin Bry (Chris Keller) and Annie Rubino (Ann Deaver), were effective and decent performers. I think that their performances suffered, somewhat, being placed next to Larry and Patrice. In a different setting I might have found their acting fairly compelling and even “good” rather than “fair” but in this case I found myself frustrated that surface lives seemed to dominate the performances. Chris and Ann are extremely tragic characters but the actors didn’t immerse themselves into the various realities of their situations as much as I might have liked.

Advice you didn’t ask for:

Somebody needed to work with Kevin on his incessant shrugging and hand-waving. It was an obvious diffusing move that might have been an interesting choice if it had anything to do with Chris, but it really didn’t, and it was obviously a personal tick of Kevin’s. From an observer’s point of view the waving and arching of his neck was a constant reminder that he was, literally, treading water at the top of his emotions. He seemed reluctant to sink into the turmoil and realities of the situation and instead was flapping around and trying to remain afloat. The only feeling he seemed prepared to dive into was anger; with Chris there was so, so much more going on than anger.

He needed several run-throughs tied to a chair. If all of that diffusing energy got out of his hands and went into his vocal performance, he would have been far more than simply decent. It’s in there, he just needs to learn to let it out.

Annie had pretty and wide-eyed down in spades and during the earlier moments she was delightful but, disappointingly, she never really let go. I have several pages of notes that I would have personally given the actor were I the director. I’ll try and sum them up here:

The most important aspect of the Ann character, Annie, is that, no matter how many times she’s told a woman does not believe she’s pretty. Think about it. Why Chris? Why now? Why would she break call off an impending wedding simply because she started receiving letters from the brother of her dead ex-fiance? Why would she even deign to be in that house, given what she knows and how she’s received by Kate? She’s smarter than you think she is, and far, far more desperate.

She says she’s with Chris because he tells her the truth. She’s not in love with his smile, she’s not in love with his laugh or his life, she’s in love with his truth. Why? What does she need to hear?

Wide-eyed and pretty works for you, Annie, but underneath it all there is a person who is no less tortured than George or Joe or Kate. What might do you good is to run through your scenes and work with a filter. Every time anyone feeds you a line, respond with “I’m not worth living for”. That’s the way that Ann is filtering the world. It’s what she believes, given what she knows, and what she most desperately needs Chris to counteract. She’s praying he will give her absolution and, without it, she feels she genuinely has nothing.

When you’re talking to Kate, when you’re giving her that ultimatum, you’re not doing it for fun. You’re not doing it for Chris, or for Joe or for anyone. You’re doing it because it’s the very last bullet you have in the gun and if Kate doesn’t do what you need her to do, you truly believe your life is over.

In that moment wide-eyed and pretty needs to go out the window. You are ravaged internally and have been paying penance for years and are desperate for a reprieve. We need to see that you are as capable of self-immolation as anyone. Show us the Anne behind the eyes and pretty legs. Even if it was just for three or four lines the miserable, suffering survivor needed to emerge. Up the stakes.

Other notable performances included Billy Simmons as George, Franette Liebow as Sue Bayliss, and Alison Dornheggen as Lydia Lubey.

George’s shocking betrayal of his father and his anger was not shocking when seen in the context of what he needs Kate and Chris to be. Billy took his character through the scene with a gradual surrender that was compelling. Likewise, Franette’s Sue went from, as they say, sugar to shit and back again in the blink of an eye. It was startling, and set me aback, and notable enough that I thought back to her passion when her husband later admits that he left her. Because of Chris he left her. Suddenly her anger and constant efforts to chase the Doctor down were understandable.

The charisma between Lydia and George was well done. Laughing Lydia was artificially sweet, as you can imagine, but the moment she said the line, “Do you want to see my babies?”, my heart broke for her. All the unspoken sentences, like “They should have been yours” whipped through the air, and her conflicting sorrow for herself and overwhelming pride in her children. They were her Work, and they were worth it. You could see it in her face, just as you could see George’s absolute inability to cope with the implications.

Ed Rutherford (Frank Lubey) was endearing enough, I suppose, but needed to stop shouting and start being. Frank is a dreamer and isn’t very bright but he’s not a dolt intentionally and I thought Ed gave him short shrift.

Apparently this production went up at a mind-numbing pace and, given the constraints of a limited rehearsal schedule, I was astonished at how delightful and deep the play was. The casting was done with a professional hand and while I have nit-picky things to say I always have nit-picky things to say. Overall the show was handled spectacularly well by the cast and the direction was superb. I rarely got the impression of blocking for blocking’s sake but the characters also avoided looking static. The verbal pacing was perfect. Absolute perfection, with the exception of Greg Kolack as Dr. Jim Bayliss. I don’t know if he was searching for lines or what, but scenes that involved the good doctor seemed to add drag to the company’s realistic and healthy clip.

The directing, by David Mink, was either superb or he made certain to surround himself with talented individuals or both. When an excellent director meets and excellent performer it’s amazing what can happen.

The lighting was haunting, the set was both pleasing and utilitarian and the sound was clear as a bell.

There is nothing, but nothing, more enjoyable than spending an evening having a nice dinner on the lawn and watching well-directed, talented individuals tell a well-written story. I’d advise you to go go go as soon as is humanly possible.

All My Sons by Arthur Miller runs from July 11th through August 16th on Monday and Tuesday evenings. Curtain goes up at 8:00 pm and the run time is approximately two hours and fifteen minutes. The Oak Park Festival Theatre offers assistance with dinner packages and advanced ticket sale over the phone. Call the box office at (708) 445-4440.

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