CRIMES OF THE HEART
by Beth Henley
Directed by Kathleen Turner
The Roundabout Theatre
at the Laura Pels
Reviewed by David Spencer
As
a critic, I feel as if one of my jobs is to assess each project on its own
terms-as I like to put it, to report on how well it meets its own assignment.
I've generally found this to be a freeing philosophy, because it unshackles me
from leading with my personal taste, when such is at odds with the creative
intentions; or from being limited to expressing whether or not I happen to like
something. Oh, indeed, I express my tastes and likes clearly and often, but if
they're irrelevant to an accurate assessment, I'm happy to admit it...most
times. But once in a rare while something comes along that defeats even my
noblest efforts and I have to admit: I may not be the go-to guy for a review.
Coincidentally, two showed up in the same week. Here they are:
The
Slug Bearers of Kayrol Island (Or The Friends of Dr. Rushower) has been getting some decent
press for its whimsy and projections and excellent cast, and certainly those
are formidable components, but at base I found this cross between urban
folktale and island adventure to be a familiar hodgepodge. Not because its
eccentric story and design (both the product of cartoonist Ben Katchor) are like anything else, but
because its missacented, wandering libretto (also Katchor) and mild
folk-rock-jazz fusion score (Mark Mulcahy) are typical, typical, typical of writers who
don't know their craft and so throw everything they have against the wall in a
kind of wheeee and freeeee way. It's a generic sound and approach because it's
where "anti-establishment" always goes to play, each time believing
it's re-inventing the wheel. Such represents a classic downtown sensibility, I
guess (fittingly, the production is at the Vineyard Theatre), but as far as I'm concerned,
musical theatre iconoclasm only works if you have the tools to honor the icons
before you attempt to shatter them. Because that kind of training and
form-literacy are what provide perspective and context for variation and
experimentation to be meaningful. Philosophically, what I mean is not
dissimilar to the notion that you can't satirize a subject without first
knowing the subject.
The
following will sound facetious, but I'm utterly sincere: It must be nice, once
in a while, for a critic or even an audience to appreciate a thing like Slug
Bearers-but that luxury comes, I think, from not being so consumed by having a
career in musical theatre that you can't allow yourself to check out; or from
not having seen so much that this kind of off-the-path indulgence can still
seem novel, rather than a retread of "novelties" past. (I listen now
to the early-70s album of the first renegade downtown musical I ever saw-the
absurdist, avant garde Doctor Selavy's Magic Theatre by Richard Foreman and Stanley
Silverman-and realize the only reason it impressed me then was because I'd
never been privy to anything like it before. Or maybe it set some kind of
precedent or template that was absorbed into the gestalt of all who would
follow in its footsteps. I don't know anymore. I only know that in the decades
since, I've seen a number of these, and even though their stories and design
may be wildly different, their imprimaturs and sensibilities seem remarkably
similar and identically naive.)
*********
I remember seeing Beth Henley's
breakout, debut play, Crimes of the Heart in 1979 and mostly being
indifferent to it. I couldn't bring myself to invest in its tale of three
Southern sisters, congregating at the family home, each of whom has made some
extreme, and perhaps unwise gesture in the name of love. But it won all kinds
of awards, ran long enough to replace most of its cast twice, did nicely as a
film too, and kickstarted a noted dramatist's career that remains healthily active
unto this day.
So
upon returning to it-courtesy of the current Roundabout revival at the Laura Pels
Theatre
directed, and quite nicely, thank you, by Kathleen Turner-I thought that the
maturity of years and wisdom would allow me to more appreciate the genteel, yet
melodramatic and bittersweet comedy of spinster Lenny (Jennifer Dundas) (who left her only love because
in being infertile she feared rejection), victim Babe (Lily Rabe) (who decided enough abuse was
enough and when we meet her has just shot and seriously wounded her husband),
and good-time gal Meg (Sarah Paulson) (who-well, does what good-time gals do)...and how they
sortakinda resolve their problems...Lenny with the goosing of a busybody
neighbor (Jessica Stone); Babe with the help of a young and perhaps a little smitten lawyer
(Chandler Williams);
and Meg with the help of an old, now married boyfriend (Patch Darragh).
And
indeed, yes, I appreciated it more.
With
the maturity of years and wisdom.
From
that same unmoved distance.
I
get the play, I sense what it does right and how, I understand its appeal. I
just don't share in the joy of it.
And
as my shrink would say: I'm comfortable with that. Nobody can like everything.
Not even everything good.
So
leave it at this: audiences seem to embrace Crimes of the Heart as much as before, certainly
most critics do, and to prove the point, the engagement has been extended
several weeks. All I'll add is: It's very much a chick flick for the stage. If
a Pulitzer Prize-winning one seems like the kind of thing that'll make you
happy...then by God it will...