Yet another consequence of the unreal times in which we live: planning anything seems to be impossible. Due to Omicron there was no official Palm Beach Dramaworks opening night of Almost, Maine; the theatre wisely delayed their first few performances of the play. Because of scheduling, I am now reviewing the play more than a week after the run began.
Ah, the play. All those Hollywood adjectives apply, heartwarming, touching, a bittersweet combination of happiness/sadness. In lesser theatrical hands it’s an easy slope into corny, but both the playwright and Palm Beach Dramaworks guard against that and instead this production aspires to an uplifting view of the human condition with all the things we share, especially the serendipity and vulnerability of love, reaching a kind of nobility characteristic of great American romantic comedies, literature, and drama.
Place and the people who have lived their entire lives among each other tie this series of nine vignettes together, all action arising during the same ten minutes on a dark Friday night and set in the mythical unincorporated town of Almost, Maine which is so far north it might as well be in Canada. They talk a little funny, they are idiosyncratic, but they share the magic realism of the Northern Lights which keep appearing in the tales. The play is a descendant of Thornton Wilder’s Our Town and the citizens of Grover's Corners. As a collection of stories it shares some of the rhythm and poetry of the short story collections of Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoon River Anthology, and the isolation one senses in Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio. The common thread of all is small town America, with the universality of its major themes applying to the human condition.
The sum of the stories is greater than its parts and its homespun wisdom shines. Expect the unexpected as you would in an O’Henry short story, and be prepared to shed a few tears, not being sure whether they are ones of joy or sadness or just tears that we are alive. As Sondheim says, life is Company. We are on the same journey as these people.
The success of this play totally depends on its expert execution. Here Palm Beach Dramaworks excels.
Veteran Palm Beach Dramaworks director, J. Barry Lewis, orchestrates this production like a fine piece of chamber music, tying together the tender romantic themes while balancing them with the comedic touches exactly as the playwright, John Cariani, intended. Lewis enhances those moments with split second comedic timing. In lesser hands this play could slide into sentimentality but the Director guards against that.
There are four highly experienced professional actors playing 18 different roles in eight scenes and a Prologue, Interlogue, and Epilogue (those three sections tying the scenes together): Niki Fridh (Woman 1), Brandon Morris (Man 1), Irene Adjan (Woman 2), and Shane Tanner (Man 2). Adjan and Tanner are PBD veterans, while Fridh and Morris are newcomers to the theatre but fit right in with the PBD vibe. It seems to me that these actors were relishing playing multiple parts from different perspectives, not being bound by issues of character development and being able to show their wide range of acting skills and comedic abilities. There are several great comic lines, but the physical comedic moment of “They Fell” when Randy (played by Shane Tanner) and Chad (played by Brandon Morris) “fall” for each other is special.
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Brandon Morris and Niki Fridh photo by Tim Stephien |
Set design for a play of this type where all the actions are mostly outdoors involves presentational sets that can be quickly employed against a minimalist stage meant to denote the outdoors and the possibility of the Northern Lights. PBD Set Designer, Michael Amico comes up with his usual functional and attractive sets such as the doorway to the “Moose Paddy” the “local hangout” bar of the “Almostians.” The attention to detail of the set design, such as the snow where the background meets the stage, enhances the production.
Outstanding lighting design by Kirk Bookman not only follows the action but sets the deep emotional tone when the aurora borealis, or Northern Lights appear, or when the stars shine brightly against the cold dark sky.
How does a theatre company successfully differentiate so many characters being played by only four actors? Answer: costume designs by Brian O’Keefe. There are the requisite Bean boots, jeans, flannel shirts and flap-eared caps, gloves, mufflers, and puffy down vests, all of which could come out of an L.L. Bean catalogue, a different outfit for every scene. The one thing in common is they’re dressed up to the neck, except in “Seeing The Thing” when Rhona (Irene Adjan) and Dave (Shane Tanner) hilariously strip layer upon layer of O’Keefe’s costumes down to their long johns to consummate their long “friendship” finding love in the dark woods of Almost, Maine on a Friday night around 9.00 pm.
The props are particularly significant, the ice skate falling from the sky in “Where It Went” and the “bundles” of love Lendall (Brandon Morris) had given Gayle (Niki Fridh), juxtaposed to the tiny package of love Gayle had given in return in “Getting It Back”. These props and many others make for delightful, surprising moments in the play.
Sound design by Roger Arnold captures the mysterious and mildly threatening sounds of the woods at times and provides transitional music between scenes, a mix of country, blues, new age music that does not distract from the production but provides cover for those brief interludes.
There are two lines in the play Chad delivers to Randy in “They Fell” which encapsulate the “heart” of the play: “all I could think about was how not much in this world makes me feel good or makes much sense anymore, and I got really scared, ‘cause there’s gotta be something that makes you feel good or at least makes sense in this world, or what’s the point, right?...But then I kinda came out of bein’ sad and actually felt okay, ‘cause I realized that there is one thing in this world that makes me feel really good and that does make sense, and it’s you.”
Palm Beach Dramaworks, well known for producing classical drama, has served up a welcome change of pace during these very disturbing times. Pause, reflect, and bask in the glow of the Northern Lights, professionally staged and magically delivered on the north side of Clematis Street, West Palm Beach.
