On-Stage: Clothes for a Summer Hotel

She was a former Southern belle who was institutionalized in a mental sanatorium. If Zelda Fitzgerald sounds like a Tennessee Williams heroine, it turns out she eventually was, though many theater patrons are probably unfamiliar with the play in question. The Fitzgeralds and their friends, including fellow Scribner’s author Ernest Hemingway, continue to haunt and torment each other in Williams’s “ghost play,” Clothes for a Summer Hotel, the playwright’s final Broadway production which the White Theatre Company has revived in a staging now running at the Hudson Guild Theatre.

In retrospect, it seems bizarre that Hotel closed on Broadway in 1980 after only fifteen performances. How often did jaded New Yorkers have an opportunity to see the late Geraldine Page in a new Tennessee Williams play? Though the contemporary reviews were unkind, the play as performed by the White Horse (using a text twice revised by Williams from the original 1980 stage version) contains plenty of meaty Williamseque themes, including love, art, sexuality, and madness.

As Hotel opens, F. Scott Fitzgerald shivers outside the gates of a sanitarium, guarded by two rather severe nuns in what could be a scene out of Kafka. As soon as he heard about his wife’s commitment, he left his Hollywood screenwriting gig in such a hurry he did not pack more appropriate clothes for the chilly East Coast climate. Eventually, Zelda comes out, but it is not exactly a loving reunion. As anyone with a cursory familiarity with twentieth century American literature knows, the Fitzgeralds had a turbulent marriage, giving them plenty of difficult memories to agonize over throughout both acts of Hotel.

Everyone in Hotel is apparently dead, reliving and commenting on key events from the past. (However, F. Scott does not seem to recognize that yet.) Indeed, Williams’s narrative flashes forward and back in time, creating an impressionistic rather than chronological sense of the Fitzgeralds’ lives together. Perhaps not surprisingly though, the highpoint of Hotel comes in a confrontation between Fitzgerald and his frienemy Ernest Hemingway—two hard drinking American writers grappling with professional jealousy and issues of sexuality raised in their work—territory Williams was certainly familiar with.

As the Fitzgeralds, Peter J. Crosby and Kristen Vaughan really project a sense of a couple that has each other’s numbers. They convincingly express the mysterrious affection that somehow kept them together, despite being buried under years of infidelities, betrayals, and public scenes, as well as the myriad of resentments that preclude them from forgiving and forgetting. Making quite an impression in his comparatively limited stage time, Rod Sweitzer is gruff and blustery enough to capture the self-serving vigor of a still youthful Hemingway, without becoming a caricature of the famous author.

Director Cyndy A. Marion nicely stages Hotel’s temporal dislocations, keeping the events and settings clear and distinct. It all has a classy sheen thanks to the evocative incidental music composed by Joe Gianono, (whose arranging credits include work with jazz great Gene Bertoncini).

It is amazing how rewarding it is to revisit Tennessee Williams’s “flops.” Based on the White Horse revival, Hotel clearly seems like a play that deserved a better fate. Though its non-linear structure is relatively challenging compared to most of the Williams canon, its subjects—Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald—would seem to have an enduring commercial appeal, making it a shrewd choice to restage. It is a literate, well mounted production, definitely worth checking out. Now officially open, Hotel runs at the Hudson Guild Theatre through February 21st, with a special post-show Williams panel discussion scheduled to follow the February 14th performance.

(Photo: Joe Bly)

Tennessee Williams’s Loss of a Teardrop Diamond

Pulitzer Prize winning playwright Tennessee Williams was twice nominated for an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. Of course he had great source material—his own plays, including the perennial classic A Street Car Named Desire. However, Williams had decidedly mixed record with Hollywood. While there were triumphs like Streetcar, there were also duds like the Robert Redford-Natalie Wood vehicle This Property is Condemned, which so disappointed dramatist, he reportedly tried to remove his name from the credits.

There is also the case of The Loss of a Teardrop Diamond, an original screenplay written with director Elia Kazan and actress Julie Harris in mind. Though published, Diamond was largely overlooked by Williams scholars until Director Jodie Markell set out to realize it on film. Now over fifty years after it was originally penned, Diamond (trailer here) finally makes it to the big screen this Wednesday in New York and Los Angeles.

Fisher Willow prefers hot jazz to sweet bands. After seeing Paris, Memphis is just too staid and narrow-minded for her. Yet she still intends to do her social duty, in order to satisfy her wealthy Aunt Cornelia. The only eligible escort she can stomach though is Jimmy Dobyne, the dirt-poor grandson of a former governor whose drunken father works on the family estate.

While they initially act like it is all business, it is pretty clear Willow did not pick Dobyne in hopes of developing an innocent friendship. Despite the constant embarrassment of his father, Dobyne is a proud man, who chafes in the role of hired man. He also recognizes Willow’s attraction to him, setting in motion conflicts rooted in both social status and amour—in short: classic Williams territory.

Fisher Willow follows proudly in the tradition of great Tennessee Williams heroines. At times she can rightly be called headstrong, shortsighted, and eccentric. However, she is not a bad person. In fact, Williams grants her a capacity for tremendous empathy that we do not necessarily see from a Blanche du Bois. During a particularly ill-fated society party Willow attends with Dobyne in tow, she does indeed lose one of her Aunt’s teardrop earrings. In what constitute Diamond’s strongest scenes, she also encounters the chronically ill Miss Addie, who recognizes a kindred spirit in Willow and takes the story in a deeper, unexpected direction.

Sometimes Williams’s characters show a self-destructive tendency that can test audiences’ patience. Bryce Dallas Howard avoids such pitfalls, making a convincing reluctant Southern belle, while also nicely bringing out the humanity of Williams’s flawed heroine. Chris Evans does not fare as well, leaving only an impression of tiresome pride and petulance as Dobyne. However, Tony and Academy Award winning actress Ellen Burstyn makes much of the relatively small part of Miss Addie, conveying much that Williams certainly implied but left unsaid.

Presented in an evocative package, Diamond is certainly not Kazan’s Streetcar, but it is hardly Condemned either. Characters like Willow and Miss Addie are well worth meeting, even if those orbiting around them are a bit under-developed. Like many of Williams lesser revived plays, it is an intriguing work with some rich moments that provides further insight into the playwright’s canon. It opens Wednesday (12/30) at the Quad.

On-Stage: Vieux Carre

It is probably the first play a Tennessee Williams biographer should read as part of their research, but it has not been produced on the New York stage in twenty-five years. Although Williams’s 1977 Vieux Carré might be infrequently revived, its biographical significance is undeniable, right down to the address of the squalid boarding house in which it is set: 722 Toulouse Street—Williams’s own address in the late 1930’s. Now Vieux Carré has the additional distinction of being the first Tennessee Williams play undertaken by the Pearl Theatre Company, as well as their last production at their current home on St. Mark’s, where it officially opened last night.

The residents of Mrs. Wire’s Toulouse Street boarding house are the dregs of New Orleans. Frankly, most are waiting to die, but one is still trying to find his place in the world. The Writer has recently moved to New Orleans from his native St. Louis, to pursue his literary career and come to terms with his homosexuality. Does that sound like any great American playwright?

There is plenty of raw material to inspire him in 722, including the shrewish landlady, two destitute elderly women, and Nightingale, an old consumptive lecher who seduces the writer during a moment of vulnerability. He finds a friend in the understanding Jane, a young lady from a proper Westchester family, who has been tragically diagnosed with Leukemia. Unfortunately, it is awkward for him to be near her lover Tye, a brutish strip club bouncer, who seems to protest too much when making crude homophobic remarks.

Williams first started Vieux in the late 1930’s, but he did not complete it until the late seventies with its brief 1977 Broadway production. Granted, it might not be Streetcar, but it is certainly a meaty play, prefiguring most of the themes and motifs of his acknowledged major works. It is also a great depiction of the Crescent City’s seedy glory, in which the promise of freedom is fittingly represented by Sky, a jazz musician.

Sensitively directed by Austin Pendleton, himself an actor often seen on the New York stage, the Pearl’s production effectively evokes the atmosphere of death and decay that looms over the doomed residents of 722. The wall-less set design also nicely conveys the claustrophobic environment and the lack of privacy experienced by Mrs. Wire’s boarders.

The cast is quite strong, particularly George Morfogen, who brings out the complex humanity of the problematic Nightingale. Sean McNall is also notably impressive in the role of the Writer, coming across as an intelligent, multifaceted young man, rather than a mere narrator or a stand-in for the famous playwright.

Like most of Williams’s plays, Vieux might sound depressing, but there is something reassuring about the dramatically messy humanity on view. In fact, Williams was a very humane writer, depicting deeply flawed characters, like Nightingale, with great compassion. It is definitely a strong production of a rewarding play, well-worth catching during its surprisingly rare revival (though parents should be cautioned there are distinctly adult situations and brief full frontal nudity). Its limited engagement at the Pearl ends June 14th, and look for the company’s upcoming 2009/2010 season in their new home at New York City Center.

On-Stage: A Streetcar Named Desire

Is there any role that causes more trepidation than Stanley Kowalski? Nobody ever gets compared to Karl Malden in the Elia Kazan film, but every Kowalski is compared to Brando. Though frequently revived, Tennessee Williams’s Pulitzer Prize winning A Streetcar Named Desire remains an intimidating play to tackle, so director Adriana Baer and her cast deserve credit for pulling it off quite well in the their production at Columbia’s Schapiro Theatre.

Fresh off the famous streetcar, aging Southern Belle Blanche DuBois arrives unannounced at the small two room apartment of her sister Stella and brother-in-law, the infamous Stanley Kowalski. Though desperately trying to keep up appearances, something is clearly not right with her. Though the DuBois family plantation has been lost, Blanche maintains her aristocratic airs, which rankles Kowalski. Tensions between the three threaten to boil over as dark family secrets are revealed in that cramped apartment during a hot New Orleans summer.

Kowalski is a devilishly tricky role to step into, but Woertnedyke is certainly game. His Stanley is less menacing and more human, in-touch with the character’s blue collar roots. However, Linnea Wilson is a surprising standout as Stella Kowalski (formerly DuBois). Though Stella is frequently the overlooked member of the dysfunctional triangle, she has the third best line of the play: “there are things that happen, between a man and a woman, in the dark, that sorta make everything else seem unimportant.” Wilson really brings her to the fore, capturing the pain of her divided loyalties and insecurity.

Everyone attending Streetcar is waiting for two famous lines: Kowalski’s anguished cry of “Stella” and Blanche’s celebrated exiting line, which guarantees nobody ever leaves the play early. It really is cool to hear them live on-stage. Though Streetcar is a relatively long play, Baer’s direction keeps it moving at a surprisingly brisk pace. The classic New Orleans jazz piped in between the acts is also a nice touch, effectively evoking the locale. Altogether, it is quite an entertaining production that concludes its weekend run with a matinee performance this afternoon.

Eccentricities by Tennessee Williams

(I’m in Prague and points unknown in Hungary the next week and a half. Blogging will be light but a few time sensitive posts will go up during that time.)

Alma Winemiller must be eccentric. She is far too demonstrative in her music. Not that music is an inappropriate pursuit in itself—she just puts too much of herself into it for the tastes of respectable society in early twentieth century Glorious Hill, Mississippi. Her creator, Tennessee Williams, clearly had more affection for her though, rewriting Alma’s first stage life, Summer and Smoke, into a substantially different play, eventually re-titled The Eccentricities of a Nightingale. Although it became Williams’ preferred version, Eccentricities has rarely been revived, but a rare new production opened at the Clurman last night from The Actors Company Theatre.

Life has stacked the deck against Alma Winemiller. Her natural eccentric spirit is all the more suspicious to Glorious Hill in the light of the madness running unbridled through her family. Her mother’s mental instability is a constant source of embarrassment, sabotaging her own social development. However, the dark secret history of her Aunt Albertine (of New Orleans, no less) may cast a greater shadow over Alma. Given her place in the world, Alma’s continuing yearning for her childhood crush, the now dashing Dr. John Buchanan, Jr., appears hopeless.

According to the very helpful program notes, Williams cut several characters from Summer and greatly simplified the plot. The young Dr. Buchanan’s character was made more sympathetic and Alma became more assertive. They were probably wise edits, as the scenes shared by the two characters are sharply written, forming the heart and soul of the play.

In impressive performances, Mary Bacon and Todd Gearhart play Alma and her object of desire with nuance appropriate to the emotional complexity of Williams’ dialogue. Although their characters’ actions might not always be satisfying, they make those decisions completely believable. While most of the parental characters are basically stern and unsympathetic, the disturbed Mrs. Winemiller comes across more as a childlike woman stuck in a state of arrested development than the dread mad woman in the attic. As a result, the horrified reactions she engenders seem somewhat out of place.

Eccentricities is an intimate story, that proves quite compatible with the Clurman’s space. Bill Clarke’s gauzy sets and gothic backdrops effectively evoke the sense of Southern ennui that marked Williams’ work. Given how the playwright ranked Eccentricities within his body of work and his affinity for its lead character, it seems odd that the play has not been revived more frequently. While the Broadway version of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof might be selling a lot of tickets because of celebrity casting, the simple directness of Eccentricities deserves to find an audience as well. TACT’s revival makes a strong case for revisiting the place of Eccentricities in the Tennessee Williams canon. It runs through May 24th.