U.S. social history has
often been a tale of “those people”—one ethnic group, once at the bottom of the
totem pole, eventually finding a new group to turn on as its next victim. Two
minority groups who have long shared struggle and tension are African Americans
and Jewish Americans. Theirs has been a bittersweet encounter: common ground in
the fight against prejudice, yet also moments of misunderstanding and conflict.
I found myself wondering
how the now seemingly antiquated themes of Driving
Miss Daisy would resonate in a world where “Americanism” has become, in
some quarters, an excuse for government-supported hostility toward immigrants
and minorities. The Palm Beach Dramaworks production leans into the play’s
fundamentally humane spirit, suggesting, perhaps optimistically, that there is
still hope in confronting the rise of a reinvented Christian nationalism and
the social instability it has brought with it.
So, to answer the question
of whether one should see this production of Alfred Uhry’s Pulitzer
Prize–winning play, even if one has seen it before: a resounding yes. Three
excellent actors, combined with a thoughtful and skilled production, make Driving Miss Daisy feel especially
meaningful in the present moment.
A brief disclaimer: I admit to a personal
bias. My wife, Ann, grew up in Atlanta and was a firsthand witness to many of
the social attitudes depicted in the play. She acted in high school, playing
alongside Dana Ivey (in A Midsummer
Night’s Dream), who would later originate the role of Daisy Werthan in the
original Playwrights Horizons production.
The plot traces some
twenty-five years, beginning in 1948, in the life of Daisy Werthan, a wealthy
Jewish widow in Atlanta. Her son, Boolie, hires a chauffeur for her—Hoke—over
her strenuous objections. While Hoke’s being Black certainly matters, Daisy’s
fierce independence and legendary frugality are just as central to her
resistance. Still, the racial and religious climate of the Deep South quietly
but firmly dictates the behavior of everyone involved.
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| Debra
Jo Rupp, Matthew W. Korinko-Jason Nuttle Photography |
Boolie’s desire for social
and business success leads him to suppress his Jewish identity—most notably
through his elaborate Christmas displays (encouraged by his offstage wife,
Florine, who becomes a perpetual target of Daisy’s scorn) and his refusal to
publicly support Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. for fear of social and professional
consequences. Daisy, however, gradually comes to resist this kind of cultural
erasure. These overlapping layers of prejudice, assimilation, and tradition
provide the essential context for the evolving relationship between the
Werthans and Hoke.
Boolie is played by the
ever-versatile Matthew W. Korinko, whose many past PBD performances have shown
his particular strengths—especially his expressive voice and instinct for both
humor and emotional shading. His affection for Daisy is evident not only in
hiring Hoke to keep her safe, but in his patience with her many idiosyncrasies
and her constant mishegas. Their
exchanges supply much of the play’s dry, wry humor.
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| Debra
Jo Rupp and Ray Anthony Thomas-Jason Nuttle Photography |
But the emotional center
of the production belongs to Debra Jo Rupp as Daisy and Ray Anthony Thomas as
Hoke. Their casting reflects a broader trend toward recognizable names in
intimate, two- or three-character plays, and both are well known from
television and film, though also seasoned stage actors. They seem ideally
matched to their roles. Watching their characters evolve over twenty-five plus years
is both moving and absorbing—a study in mutual growth, as the power structures
of their era gradually dissolve, leaving behind two people who finally
recognize each other as equals. Daisy’s journey from stubborn self-sufficiency
to reluctant vulnerability mirrors Hoke’s own path toward dignity and
self-assurance.
There are countless tender
moments. Rupp is especially evocative in a monologue recalling Daisy’s
childhood memory of seeing the ocean for the first time:
“Papa said it was the Gulf
of Mexico, and not the ocean, but it was all the same to me… I asked Papa if it
was all right to dip my hand in the water… I tasted the salt water on my
fingers. Isn’t it silly to remember that?”
Thomas’s response,
delivered with his trademark gentle humor, is equally touching:
“No sillier than most of
what folks remember. You talkin’ ’bout first time? I’ll tell you ’bout first
time I ever leave the state of Georgia.”
Daisy innocently asks,
“When was that?”
Hoke replies: “’Bout
twenty-five minutes back.”
Moments like these—small,
intimate, and quietly profound—are what give Driving Miss Daisy its enduring emotional power.
In the hands of the director, Julianne Boyd, and cast, the bombing of Daisy’s Reform Temple becomes an emotional
fulcrum of the play. Daisy cannot quite believe it happened because her Temple
is Reform, not conservative or orthodox. Here, the pace and the plaintive reply
of Hoke carry the audience into a place one does not expect:
Hoke: “It doan’ matter to them
people. A Jew is a Jew to them folks. Jes’ like light or dark we all the same
nigger.”
Responding to Daisy’s
disbelief, Ray Anthony Thomas delivers a stunning, nuanced monologue, straight
from the gut:
“I know jes’ how you feel,
Miz Daisy. Back down there above Macon on the farm—I ’bout ten or ’leven years
old and one day my frien’ Porter, his daddy hangin’ from a tree. And the day
befo’ he laughin’ and pitchin’ horseshoes wid us. Talkin’ ’bout Porter and me
gon have strong god right arms like him, and den he hangin’ up yonder wid his
hands tied behind his back and the flies all over him. And I seed it with my
own eyes and I throw up right where I standin’.”
Daisy challenges him:
“Ridiculous! The Temple has nothing to do with that!”
Hoke replies quietly: “So
you say.”
Daisy knows, of course,
but is just too blind at the time to see it. The audience feels it profoundly.
I personally recalled Billie Holiday’s recording of “Strange Fruit.”
One of the play’s most
compelling features is its kaleidoscopic treatment of time, compressing decades
of social history into a series of short, impactful scenes. The steady
transformation of both society and the characters unfolds quietly but
inexorably before the audience, even if the transitions can sometimes feel
abrupt.
The temper of the times is beautifully supported by the production
design.
Brian O’Keefe’s costume
designs are masterful, with changes that mark the passing of time. Daisy in
particular morphs from typical late 1940s dress at home in the opening, to
scenes with her in a fur stole going to Temple, and finally to the clothing of
a ninety-year-old being cared for in an assisted living facility.
Alexander Sovronsky’s
sound design (PBD debut) includes riffs from popular music that help denote
time’s inexorable march while enhancing the emotional texture of the
production. It begins, most appropriately, with “Georgia on My Mind,” and
amusingly includes “Santa Baby” when Daisy visits Boolie’s overly decorated
home at Christmas—a hollow holiday to Daisy, given her family is Jewish and her
son, and especially her daughter-in-law Florine, are trying to pass as
Christian in order to blend into Atlanta society and their country club. Sound
also includes the opening and closing of the imaginary car doors, and the
running of the engine, so perfectly timed that the audience can “see” those
doors.
Bert Scott’s simple yet
imaginative scenic design is representational, a blank slate used to suggest
the three primary locations: the Werthan family home, the automobile, and Boolie’s
office (with, further stage left, a telephone on a pedestal to represent Boolie
at his home). Lighting design by John Wolf (PBD debut) is dictated by which portion
of the stage holds the action and by the time of day.
Above the stage, the
“windows” are where Tim Brown’s projection design (PBD debut) appears, offering
outside scenes ranging from open sky to destinations such as Piggly Wiggly,
Daisy’s Temple, the Christmas decorations of Boolie’s home, headstones in a
cemetery as Daisy tends her husband’s grave, and even images from Martin Luther
King’s appearance at Atlanta’s UJA Banquet, which Daisy attends but fails to
invite Hoke to join.
The winding down of the
play is bittersweet. Aging is a fact of life, but this unlikely pair, a wealthy
Jewish widow in Atlanta, of all places, who finally recognizes her uneducated
chauffeur as her “best friend,” arrives at something quietly profound. Palm
Beach Dramaworks’ production goes even further, making us feel that their bond
resembles that of an old married couple. There is love. This heartwarming
production is delicate rather than sweeping, inspirational rather than
didactic.
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| Ray
Anthony Thomas and Debra Jo Rupp-Jason Nuttle Photography |
