4000 Miles Shifts into High Gear at Palm Beach Dramaworks

 

Palm Beach Dramaworks opens its season with a touching dramedy, Amy Herzog’s 4000 Miles.  What the play might lack in weighty dramatic conflict, it makes up for in the heartfelt contrasts of generations.  As a character-driven play it leans on outstanding execution for its success, and it could not have found a better home than PBD’s production and their casting expertise.

 

Patricia Conolly plays the feisty, unpredictable 91-year-old Vera who is unexpectedly visited by her 21-year-old grandson in the middle of the night, Leo.  He had just biked 4000 miles.  She doesn’t hear the doorbell at first as she doesn’t have her hearing aid in, and once she answers, Leo can’t understand her as her hand hides her mouth because she doesn’t have her teeth in as well.  What we've got here is failure to communicate, so we already have a comical baseline to work with.

 

Vera has lived in a Greenwich Village rent controlled apartment since the beginning of time, and although she has memory lapses (her favorite phrase for filling in the blanks being “waddayacallit”) her living experiences and the fact that she is a socialist from another era makes for memorable and poignant moments.  Her life now consists of checking on her neighbor, and vice versa, the elderly offstage character of Ginny (“that way if one of us turns up our toes it won’t take until we start smelling to figure it out”).

 

The sudden appearance of her grandson, Leo, who during the trip lost his biking companion and close friend Micah to an accident (crashing into a truck filled with Tyson chickens), sets up the primary story.  He needs to heal from that and other coming of age maladies, and Vera needs companionship, lacking in her life since her second husband, Joe, died.

 

Leo is played by Gabriell Salgado with a larger-than-life presence on the stage, his pulsating youth, and urgency of living on full display.  But he has not only lost his best friend, he is estranged from his mother and has a sister quandary.  Furthermore, his relationship with Bec, his girlfriend, played by Stephanie Vasquez, is on the rocks.  Rounding out the cast and the patchy plot is Amanda, played by Isabella Chang, a young woman Leo brings to Grandma’s apartment, hoping to get her in bed.

 

The four actors are making their Palm Beach Dramaworks debuts.

 

Patricia Conolly and Gabriell Salgado photo by Alicia Donelan

Conolly’s Vera, especially when juxtaposed to Salgado’s Leo, is frail, diminutive in stature, unsure in her speech (her complaint “finding my words” resonate), and forgetful (“I can’t find my checkbook!”).  But she has the wisdom of age and Conolly handles the infirmaries, as well as her opinions with a bold frankness, and the resulting laughs with aplomb. 

 

Vera, on coming from a funeral for the last of the octogenarians she was friends with, amusingly comments to Leo: “he was a rat, very aggressive, he used to make passes at me with his wife sitting right there. She had Alzheimer’s so she didn’t mind, but I did. Even so he was the last one and I don’t feel very happy about it.”  So much for ambivalent sentimentality.  We should all be lucky enough to have a grandma with Conolly’s spirit.

 

If the name Patricia Conolly doesn’t resonate, she has had a seven-decade theatrical life, playing leading roles in theatres throughout the world, but mostly on stage, not film, and thus her relative anonymity, but here’s an opportunity to see one of our finest actresses still displaying her prodigious talent.  

 

Gabriell Salgado, playing Leo, responds to Vera’s lament with “do you want a hug from a hippie?”  Salgado wholeheartedly captures his character’s crisis as well his grandmother’s aging issues.  They’re both responding to rusty family ties which eventually bond them in trust, healing one another.  We witness the intimacy which eventually develops between the chasm of generations

 

Various subplots, those between unseen characters, such as Vera’s love/hate relationship with her neighbor Ginny, and Leo’s conflicts with his mother and his adopted sister provide more insight into the puzzle of the main characters’ lives. 

 

Leo’s interaction with on stage Bec and Amanda, although secondary, clue us in on Leo’s motivations and maturation.  The playwright leans heavily on these exchanges for humor and pathos.  Stephanie Vasquez performance as Bec is steeped in anger and accusations.  Her later interaction with Vera as the play evolves changes her harsh judgement about Leo, Vera amusingly commenting “men do things out of stupidity.”  Vasquez finally displays a more loving side.

 

Stephanie Vazquez and Gabriell Salgado photo by Alicia Donelan

Amanda is a comic interlude, and quirky Isabella Chang makes the best of those moments, but it is here that we get to know some key elements, Leo saying “my best friend died this summer. We were biking across the country together and he died. That’s why I’m here. Because I don’t know where else to be.”  One of the funniest scenes in the play happens late that night when Vera suddenly appears out of her bedroom in her wraithlike nightgown, interrupting a lovemaking session on the couch, Amanda recoiling and screaming, thinking she saw a ghost. 

Gabriell Salgado and Isabel Chang photo by Alicia Donelan

 

J. Barry Lewis directs this delicate, but occasionally contrived play, by punching up the dramatic moments with his excellent cast and landing all the comedic elements with a sure hand.  

 

One of the best reasons to see any PBD production is their attention to those technical details theatergoers will surely notice, ones that as are as important as the acting.  Scenic design by PBD newcomer Bert Scott perfectly portrays Vera’s NYC’s rent-controlled apartment (I should know; I’ve lived in three).  Books are intrinsic to Vera’s past left-wing life and now that she is aged, so are post-it notes.  Although the play takes place in the 2000’s, the set is from Vera’s heyday in the 1960s, rotary phone and all. 

 

Kirk Bookman’s lighting design delineates the time of the day, and there is one extended but affecting scene between Vera and Leo performed in the beautiful, muted glow from the streetlights as Leo pours out his heart to granny, with a comic rimshot at the end of the scene. 

 

Sound design by Roger Arnold introduces some original piano music between scenes and at times the sounds of NYC, garbage trucks backing up, the ubiquitous city sirens, or barking dogs in the building, one crescendo of the latter a harbinger of a turn in the play.

 

Resident Costume Designer, Brian O’Keefe, has lots to work with here, the time period and ten scenes in the play, many requiring fast costume changes by Vera in particular (who requires nine different costumes).  These are everyday garbs of the 2000 era including well-worn nightgowns and cover ups for Vera from her earlier days, everything suitable and contributing to the look and feel of the play.

 

The journey ends on a bittersweet twist, like an unresolved piece of music, but still, clearly the two main characters can now part, changed by one another, and better prepared to face an uncertain future.

 

Family and a Sense of Place

 

With the “relative” safe COVID travel easing, we ventured once again, six weeks later, by returning to New York City, this time for ten days and then, finally, after three long years, to our former life as boaters in Connecticut for a week.  There we were reunited with the boat we lived on each summer since I retired, mostly at the same dock in Norwalk, the ‘Swept Away’ (now Captained by our son, Jonathan, and his wife/first mate, Tracie).  Our other son Chris and his significant other Megan were able to meet up with all of us at the end of that week.  To be with our four “kids” was the highlight of our trip. 

 

The flight to NYC went flawlessly, thank you Jet Blue, and there was an orderly line to get cabs when we arrived at the gleaming new LGA terminal.  For the following ten days we enjoyed living like the Upper-West-Siders we once were, staying at Jon and Tracie’s apartment overlooking the Hudson River (while they vacationed on the boat).  Ironically one can see part of the West Side Highway from their windows, which I drove each morning in 1970 commuting from our little rent controlled apartment on West 63^rd Street, to where I worked at a new publishing job in Westport, CT, not moving there until a year later.  It was a more civilized drive in those days.  I became the President of that company and was there for the rest of my working life.  I feel deep roots in Manhattan and Southwest Connecticut.  Florida has its merits but the verdant hills of Connecticut and Manhattan’s macadam still call out.

 

Jon and Tracie’s apartment also fronts Riverside Park which on some mornings I walked, especially enticed by a visit to the pier which juts out into the Hudson River and sitting on a bench where I could marvel at the 360 degree skyline.  Manhattan was literally a breath of fresh air, in the 70s, low humidity, a nice breeze.  The juxtaposition of the old West Side Highway and the new gleaming condos reaching for the sky, and the George Washington Bridge to the north in the distance and New Jersey to the west made for expansive viewing, dazzling in the light. 

 

 

 

 

Manhattan people-watching is still so much fun.  I was lucky to photograph a man and his dog enjoying that fresh morning air on the pier, and later, walking with Ann on Central Park West, the sweet mother and daughter strolling in lock step, Mom transporting her child’s roller skates. 

 

 

Or an elderly woman feeding Manhattan's requisite pigeons at Riverside Park in the morning. 

From a cab I saw a flight attendant who noted I was taking photos and stopped to pose as she crossed the street.  My pleasure!

 

Not allowing grass to grow under our feet our first full night we were thrilled to catch our favorite jazz pianist at Birdland, Emmet Cohen.  In addition to his steadfast drummer, Kyle Poole, and a guest bassist, he was joined by Bruce Harris on the trumpet, and Ruben Fox on the sax. 

 

We had a front row table, directly facing Harris, probably one of the leading trumpet performers, but the young Aussie, Ruben Fox did some other-worldly riffs, to such an extent that Harris and I made eye contact, acknowledging what Fox was doing, both wondering, how the heck?  Cohen meanwhile was smiling at his crew and doing his usual virtuosity on the ivories.  We were able to chat briefly with him afterwards, “old” fans that we are, in both sense of the word.  

Another night we were able to see Sondheim’s Into The Woods.

 

There were so many new cast members that it felt like an opening night.  When the curtains opened and the cast came out to perform the “Into the Woods” Prologue, the audience jumped up to a boisterous standing ovation which DID NOT STOP to the point that the performers began to look uncomfortable.  It was a mutual audience/performer love fest all night.  What a high bar for them to clear, but, clear it they did. 

 

Among the almost entirely new cast were several well known performers including Stephanie J. Block, and Sebastian Arcelus of Madam Secretary fame.  But to me it’s Sondheim’s glorious music and lyrics which makes this show a true work of art.  A thunderous wave of ovations concluded the show.  We exited to 8th Avenue and it became a battle to even move among the throngs of humanity in the light rain forcing us to walk blocks and blocks to get a cab or an Uber.  It was some distance until the aggressive crowd filtered out that we finally were able to hail a cab in the rain.  This may be our swan song for an evening Broadway performance.  But never say never!

 

Another theatre event I was looking forward to, not for the faint of heart, is The Butcher Boy downtown at the Irish Rep., a very dark coming of age, absurdist production, a musical no less, based on Patrick McCabe’s contemporary piece of literature.  The book, lyrics, and music are by Asher Muldoon, only 19 years old attending Princeton University.  He has been compared to a young Sondheim, and some of the lyrics and music had a Sondheim quality to it.  Imagine if Sondheim’s Saturday Night was performed as intended when he wrote it in 1954.  I felt that seeing a work by this young artist was a must, sort of getting in at the ground floor.  This piece of theatre, like Sweeny Todd, progressed to a very dark place.  But dark places are where we now live in the world.  Bravo to Mr. Muldoon and the cast!

 

Part of our days and nights were centered on some of the great restaurants of NY but my favorite was the old NYC diners, Greek owned, mostly booths.  There is a sense of comfort being part of that scene and the food is darn good.  That is yet another essential ingredient of the UWS which makes it unique, a village within a great city. 

 

But then of course there were the “finer” restaurants, including this one recommended by our son, a great UWS French restaurant, Cafe Luxembourg.   With a staff like this, how could it go wrong?

 

 

 

Most of the NYC time was spent walking the UWS, visiting its markets (call outs to Fairway, Citarella Gourmet, and of course Zabar’s) and then days at some of our favorite museums.

 

The Jewish Museum was new to us, but it had an exhibit everyone is raving about, NY 1962-64, exactly matching three of our formative years as New Yorkers!  It’s a collection of all art forms of the period, including photographs and artifacts, arranged chronologically, sometimes day by day or weekly. 

 

 

The New York Historical Society -- which we make a point to visit anytime we are in NYC -- showcased The Art of Winold Reiss: An Immigrant Modernist whose book designs captured my imagination. 

 

 

 

Their special exhibit Confronting Hate 1937-52, is a terrifying harbinger of our present times. 

 

 

 

 

The NY Historical Society also has its affiliated restaurant which we love, an oasis within an oasis, Storico.

 

 

I enjoyed the replica of the oval office the the NY Historical Society has created, and I felt very comfortable running the country from there.

 

 

Another beautiful day was spent at the JP Morgan Library Museum which features the Gilded Age magnificence of its interior and the breath taking library of JP Morgan.

 

 

 

The highlight of that visit was seeing their extraordinary collection One Hundred Years of James Joyce’s Ulysses with priceless Joyce documents and artifacts.

 

 

The Morgan gardens were also open, revealing the original entrance to the mansion.

 

 

Then to cap off our wonderful ten day stay in the City, we returned to Dizzy’s Jazz Club at Columbus Circle, for a tribute to Duke Ellington.  Three wonderful singers performed all of his iconic pieces, backed up by the bass, piano, sax and drums.  This Lincoln Center supported venue is unique overlooking Central Park.  It is where we first discovered Emmet Cohen four years ago when he was relatively unknown, just coming up in the jazz world at the age of 28.

 

 

The following Monday we closed up Jon and Tracie’s apartment and headed up to Connecticut for another week.  All I wanted to do at that point was to enjoy our old boat, see family, read and relax, and meet up with a few of our old boating friends we haven’t seen since Covid.  It was strange walking down the dock to our old boat, our summer home for 20 years.  The cool CT breeze and the lovely sunset made it seem like no time at all had gone by.

 

 

 

So many of our boating friends have either moved away or passed away.  Those three Covid years have certainly taken a toll on the health of others that remain.  It was nice to see them but a painful reminder of aging.

 

The following weekend our small but close family was able to get together, the first time since Covid.

 

Jonathan prepared the boat for a cruise to our beloved Crow Island where we spent so much time during our boating years.  Add to that time those at the dock during our retirement years, and cruising to ports as far as Nantucket, with extended stays in Block Island, we figure we have lived on a boat for a total of about eight years.  We miss the waters of the Long Island Sound. 

 

 

So although Jon fired up the starboard engine, the port engine failed to turn over.  The fuel pump failed.  Always something in boating.  By the time the replacement part arrived, we were there with our family for the last day, but just being at the dock was sufficient, beautifully soul-satisfying.

 

We then flew home, just beating a thunderstorm out of Westchester Airport.  How many times remain for such trips?  We wonder, and hope.