AISLE SAY New York

FIVE MONOLOGUE PLAYS

Reviewed by David Spencer

November 2019

A surprising sleeper of the fall semester is Monsoon Season, by Lizzie Vieh. A production of the relatively young AFO (All for One) Theater, taking its current residence at the Rattlestick, during a break in that company’s season, it’s a two-hander about a troubled couple in rural Phoenix. The boilerplate press release summary goes thus:

…recently separated couple Danny and Julia are spiraling into chaos. Pills and paranoia, hallucinations and twisted humor fuel their unhinged relationship. Since their breakup, a strip club’s flashing neon sign is keeping Danny awake at night, and Julia’s Adderall addiction has only gotten worse since her dealer moved in. Danny is suffering from micro-blackouts and Julia keeps seeing a giant bird in her backyard. Is anyone watching their kid?

Accurate as far as it goes. But what it doesn’t tell you is that the play is split in half: the first a monologue for Danny, the second for Julia. Each exists in two levels of reality; they break the fourth wall and address us in one, and they interact with people we don’t see or hear (but accept as entirely real) in the other. And the timelines overlap; once we’re done with Danny, we get Julia’s side of the story.

The boilerplate goes on to describe the proceedings as a “deranged comedy” and that’s about as accurate a description as any; it’s even something of a romcom thriller. And the two actors keeping it afloat are consistently,  to use the word again, surprising.  Richard Thieriot and Therese Plaehn have infused the script with the kind of persona idiosyncrasy and telling nuance that a playwright almost doesn’t dare dream of. What they’re delivering in this downtown upstairs space is a Broadway level tour de force.

Less surprising is that level of delivery in A Woman of the World, at 59E59, but then again, you expect it of Kathleen Chalfant. She portrays Mabel Loomis Todd, best known as Emily Dickinson’s posthumous editor…but this is hardly an adjunct to The Belle of Amhurst. As dramatized by Rebecca Gilman, Ms. Todd, even as she speaks to us at a public gathering, is no wallflower, and barely even seems to reckon with the concept of indiscretion, as she spills all, to the point of TMI, about her life, loves, ambitions and obviously superior qualities and intelligence. And why should that embarrass anyone? Certainly not she.

            Under the suitably invisible direction of Valentina Fratti, Ms. Chalfant gives a delightful performance with just the right balance of control and passion, obliviousness and self-awareness.

Most surprising is Bella Bella, written and performed by Harvey Fierstein, based on the words and works of the late Bella Abzug. There’s what should be a stark contradiction in this right on the surface: that a man should be playing the role of one of the most significant pioneers of women’s rights in American history; make it a little less outrageous that Fierstein, as an outspoken and prominent gay playwright/performer, has his own history of outspoken activism. But somehow there’s a quintessential magic of the theatre alchemy in the blend of subject and star, because after about two minutes of acclimation to the ground rules, you completely give over to the illusion. And the ground rules are these: Fierstein does not perform in drag or costume. Some of Ms. Abzug’s signature dress (including the hat of course) is evident in the hotel suite bathroom set (designer: John Lee Beatty), primarily for reference that is tacitly homage; but it goes almost (though not quite) entirely untouched. Fierstein performs in his own signature dress: billowing black shirt over black pants. He doesn’t have to display the look of Ms. Abzug, so long as he communicates the soul and the passion, which he does brilliantly (under the appropriately invisible direction of Kimberly Senior). If there’s any “tell” that occasionally brings the conceit to the forefront as a device, it’s that Harvey doesn’t imitate Bella. He doesn’t need to, because his energy and largeness of personality are so sympatico with hers. But the impeccable comic timing, physical as well as verbal, is unmistakably his rather than hers. And no reason that it should be other; just sayin’. Nor does it detract from Bella Bella being among the very best one actor portraits of an American political figure in, and a welcome, timely addition to, the cannon.

Subtle and performed largely in dim light and shadow, is One Discordant Violin, at 59E59. Its cast consists of the monologist and a violinist, both male. The boilerplate description is this:

An aspiring Canadian writer is visiting Washington, DC on his first ever trip to the United States. After stumbling upon a group of Vietnam War veterans performing classical concertos in an abandoned theater, he has a life-changing encounter with a forgotten American composer. One Discordant Violin is an extraordinarily moving duet for actor and violinist about finding beauty in unexpected places and what can happen when we reach beyond our grasp.

Based on a short story by Canadian author Yann (Life of Pi) Martel, its narrative is performed by adapter Anthony Black (who co-directed with Anne-Marie Kerr) with such unpretentious simplicity that it’s easy to forget the show’s by-lines and think you’re watching an actual account of a real-life encounter. The violinist, whose presence and delivery provide otherworldliness to the haunting aspects of the story, is Jacques Mindreau. One Discordant Violin is a real art-house piece, but one that gives honor to the designation.

Finally, there’s the Keen Company revival of Brian Friel’s 1994 play Molly Sweeney. Written by Irish dramatist Brian Friel, it belongs to the tradition of Irish monologue plays, a subgenre which, so far as I can determine, Friel seems to have pioneered. And single-handedly at that, which seems appropriate.

            The monologues here shift between three characters. There’s the Molly of the title (Pamela Sabaugh), who lost all of her sight at a very early age, but has learned to compensate by drawing rich experience from all her other senses. There’s her husband Frank (Tommy Schrider), an impulsive autodidact who loves championing causes, and whose extensive research into the subject of blindness convinces him that Molly can be made to see again with the right doctor willing to take on her case. And there’s the doctor he finds, Mr. Rice (Paul O’Brien), who had a late career fall from professional grace, to whom Molly might offer a victorious comeback. And if the play has a moral, it may well be that sometimes better is the enemy of good enough.

            Director Jonathan Silverstein’s staging is simple (as well it may be). And as with Monsoon Season, the cast of “unknowns” is of A-level caliber, and would give the fine all-star trio who debuted the play in NYC almost a quarter century ago (whom I saw) a run for their money.

If I have a caveat…shifting-monologue plays can be very difficult to sustain, particularly spread over two acts, particularly when beauty of language and imagery make plot (slow moving story, if you like) take a back seat, simply because they demand a heightened level of concentration that likewise has to be sustained. At their most active, Friel’s plays demand attention and a willingness to arrive and stay alert for the rewards of language, without being coaxed by much in the way of sensory input. So understand that if you sign up for Molly Sweeney, it’s basically an audio book with pictures. But it’s a top-notch audio book.

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