Communicating Doors

Suffield Players, Suffield, CT
www.suffieldplayers.org
through March 6, 2010
by Shera Cohen

You don’t have to be a “Lost” fan to fully appreciate “Communicating Doors,” but it might help. Britain’s “Neil Simon,” Alan Ayckbourn penned this comic, science fiction, mystery before the cult TV show began. Perhaps “Lost’s” writers saw the play, said “great concept,” and the rest is history? Toss sex and murder into the plot mix and there’s a lot to like in “Doors.”

Set over the course of one day, yet in a 40-year time span (sounds odd, but true) are six characters whose lives intertwine in 1984, 2004, and 2040. The lead role is that of a twenty-something, which makes the literal timing all the more purposely confusing. Time moves back and forth at the drop of a hat – actually at the opening of a door.

The set is a hotel suite, beautifully crafted with three rooms, a balcony, and a surprise. The latter is a key element, as important as any of the characters. Well-executed lighting and sound design help create the mystery.

A novice (yet fully equipped) dominatrix is our heroine. Relative newcomer Becky Rodia Schoenfeld portrays Phoebe with sweetness and naivete. She is ever-present onstage, the lynchpin who keeps the steady swift pace from scene to scene. Schoenfeld is a top-notch young comedian who doesn’t mind throwing her whole body into the action. Much of her time is spent in dialogue and antics with Ruella, played by veteran actress Mary Fernandez-Sierra. The two characters’ immediate connection and rapport is honest. These total strangers care about each other and the audience cares about them.

Dale Facey’s direction nicely transitions from one decade to another and back again, yet on the same set in different time-warps. Albeit, the play is a bit long and small cuts would have been helpful. A section in Act I requires an elderly man to collapse, perhaps with a heart attack. This is done in humor, yet the audience cannot see the actor since the couch blocks the audience’s view. Had we seen it, there would have been more laughs.

The writer has strewn his play with clever dialogue, the director with physical humor, and the actors with the best English accents heard on a community theatre stage.

The Foreigner

Suffield Players, Suffield, CT
www.suffieldplayers.org
weekends through Oct. 24, 2009
By Donna Bailey-Thompson

The Suffield Players are whooping it up with a wild and raucous comedy that 25 years ago won Obie and Outer Circle Critics awards for Best New American Play. Written by Larry Shue, "The Foreigner" is as timely today and perhaps even funnier because, let's face it, the lousy economy has boosted laughing's value into the realm of a precious commodity. As directed by Robert Lunde, the action never lags, nor does sly humor or bellywhompers.

S/Sgt. Froggy LeSueur, a Brit with a Cockney accent, drags a pathetic Charlie Baker into a Georgia fishing lodge who, if he could, would curl himself into an invisible ball. Froggy (take-charge Mark Proulx) has virtually kidnapped Charlie (Dale Facey kidnaps the role), spiriting him away from the hospital bedside of his supposedly dying wife. Charlie's plight is an absence of self-worth which renders him pathologically shy. He describes himself as profoundly boring and entreats Froggy, "How does one acquire a personality?" The possibility of having to interact for three days with other guests at the lodge fills him with panic. Froggy's solution: tell the lodge's owner, Betty Meeks (a forceful Cynthia Lee Andersen) that Charlie is a foreigner who speaks no English. This thrills Betty who has longed to travel; at least now she'll meet a foreigner.

The other guests are a snippy, unwed pregnant heiress Catherine (as believable as she was as the father-controlled Catherine in "The Heiress"), her simple brother Ellard (the inventive Brian Rucci), her creepy fiancé, the Reverend David Marshall Lee (Christopher Berrien, appropriately mysterious) and the town's racist inspector, Owen Musser (befittingly unlikable).

That the plot is slim is of little consequence because the real suspense is created by Charlie's determination to remain a speechless cipher. His body language, double and triple takes, the play of emotions across his face, are not simply funny, they are endearing. During a protracted scene in the second act, Charlie and Ellard mimic one another with deftly executed sight gags that carry the audience into near hysteria.

The Suffield Players' latest contribution to its 57-year history honors the essence of quality community theatre.

This review was published simultaneously at www.theartsetc.com

What the Butler Saw

Suffield Players, CT
through May 16, 2009
April 30, 2009
By Donna Bailey-Thompson

As it turns out, the butler didn't see anything; however, the audience gets an eyeful. How's that? According to a Wikipedia quote included in the program, "'What the Butler Saw' was a mutoscope reel, and an early example of softcore pornographic films. It depicted a scene of a woman partially undressing, as if 'the butler' was watching her through a keyhole. It was viewed by depositing a coin in a freestanding viewing machine, which then ran the presentation. The title of this feature became widely used in Britain as a generic term for devices and movies of this kind."

As performed by the venerable Suffield Players, "What the Butler Saw" is silly farce on speed that not only has the characters skittering in and out of doors but stripping down to their skivvies, swapping clothes, and when newly garbed, they have new sexual identities, not just once but multiple times. The mayhem is triggered by a randy psychiatrist whose seduction of a secretarial job applicant is thwarted by the surprise visit of his wife who's been indulging in some hanky-panky of her own. Nonsensical confusion is off to the races.

Leading this titillating romp is Dana T. Ring as the lecherous Dr. Prentice whose variety of facial expressions is exceeded only by his appropriately suave or jerky body language. He swigs courage from a bottle of gin housed in his desk top drawer. To protect his own peccadillos and grander lascivious aspirations, he gets identities so twisted that the exasperated clinic director Dr. Rance (Bruce Showalter) fumes the establishment is a lunatic asylum. "The room is full of naked men!" namely, Steve Wandzy as the wife's would-be toy and Larry Chiz as a policeman who assumes so many identities that he loses his own - along with his clothes. As Geraldine, the aspiring secretary, Rayah Martin is a curvaceous, not-so-dumb blonde, and as Mrs. Prentice, Dorrie Mitchell, puts her gorgeous legs to work charging about the stage in high heels. Director Philip Vetro corralled the perfect cast which he guided and drilled before turning them loose.

Four Dogs and a Bone

Suffield Players, Suffield
through February 28, 2009
By Donna Bailey

As befits their reputation, the Suffield Players are presenting a demanding play whose success is contingent upon savvy direction and an experienced cast. This production scores on all counts.

"Four Dogs and a Bone" is a biting comedy about the dirty little details encountered when filming an underfunded movie. Written by John Patrick Shanley, a veteran Hollywood script writer and best known recently for his honored Broadway play and now a movie "Doubt," three of the dogs are a dishonest producer and two actresses who are rapacious carnivores: their diets include ingesting their own kind. The fourth dog is the script writer whose desperation to save the movie does not include devouring the others through bloodless means.

The first act covers a lot of expository ground, of the shock and awe variety. At times the abrasiveness seems nonstop, especially as spewed forth by Lea D. Oppedisano who as Colette, knows she is no longer an ingénue to reap empathy but is now headed for character roles where she can be type cast as incarnate evil. Oppedisano’s Colette’s is a force of nature – major disaster category. Her adversary is the supposedly sweet Brenda (Megan Fish) who chants and plots mischief. During the second act, their scene within a minimized dressing trailer is as tight as the space itself.

As Bradley, the money-short producer who is plagued with a flaming hemorrhoid (nothing like a little bathroom humor), Josh Guenter seems to channel Paul Giamatti – glib, light on his feet, as tailored as an unmade bed. Robert Lunde as the fair-minded script writer, Victor, throws up his arms in frustration at the unbridled shenanigans. His disapproval gives the audience permission to feel shocked by the despicable behavior, even while laughing at scabrous remarks they would not tolerate elsewhere.

Director Meghan Lynn Allen prevents "Four Dogs and a Bone" from becoming farcical melodrama. The production can inspire anything from the killer comment, "That was much ado about nothing!" to the exclamation, "What a hoot!"

Morning's At Seven

Suffield Players, Suffield, CT
through October 25, 2008
By Donna Bailey-Thompson

This love of a comedic drama shows off the ensemble acting skills of the venerable Suffield Players. Nine experienced actors extract every drop of humor from characters created by the honored playwright Paul Osborn ("On Borrowed Time").

In 1932, unless you were a daredevil, day-to-day domestic life was light years slower than now. Not everyone, even in cities, had telephones, and radio programming was in its infancy. Especially in small towns, family life – its joys and vicissitudes – was the anchor from which feelings flowed.

Homer Bolton (Stephen Grout) brings Myrtle (Karen Balaska) his fiancée of seven years home to meet his family. His aunts are all atwitter: Cora (Cynthia Lee Andersen), Arry (Jane H. Maulucci), Esther (Kelly Seip), but the fourth sister (Ida) is his mother, and she’s not sure Homer is ready for marriage. Cora’s husband, Thor (Bruce Showalter) is philosophical; Esther’s husband, David (Dana T. Ring) is supercilious, and Homer’s father, Carl (Konrad Rogowski) is having one of his spells: he sags, stares at nothing, rubs his forearm, and exudes a tragic air that would do Eugene O’Neill proud. "What’s it all about? Where am I in life?" The idea that the son might inherit his father’s malaise is dismissed. "Homer’s too lazy to have a spell. He doesn’t have the gumption."

The costuming by Dawn McKay is time perfect. The sisters wear ankle socks. The fiancée is appropriately up tight in a button down the front shirt dress that sports crocheted collar and cuffs. When David commiserates with Carl, their haphazard garb suggests a vaudeville team. Suffield’s theater, Mapleton Hall, boasts an elastic stage: its dimensions may be small but clever set designs (this time, Rogowski’s) accommodate the impossible: two backyards of two houses.

Director Rayah Martin has opted to quickly acknowledge reality before spraying the well-written script with laughing gas. Three acts cover high, infectious drama from afternoon until almost noon the following day. The audience responds with laughter, chortles, giggles, guffaws, and when needing to catch their breath, they simply smile.

Blithe Spirit

Suffield Players
Mapleton Hall, Suffield
through May 17, 2008
May 1, 2008
By Donna Bailey-Thompson

All hail the incomparably gifted Noel Coward – dramatist, actor, writer, composer, lyricist, painter, and wit, knighted by Queen Elizabeth – whose impressive body of work lives on, including his bright comedy "Blithe Spirit," the latest star in the Suffield Players’ crown.

Charles (Christopher Berrien, so suave, whose glides and dips are reminiscent of Jackie Gleason), a novelist, is married to Ruth (Becky Schoenfeld, rather uptight), his second wife, while above the mantle hangs a picture of his first wife, Elvira (Rayah Martin, once a vamp, always a vamp) who has been dead and gone for seven years but not forgotten. Because Charles’ new novel’s plot will include the occult, he invites the eccentric Madame Arcati (Kelly Seip, delightfully dotty) to conduct a seance. Other guests are Dr. and Mrs. Bradman (Bruce Showalter and Cynthia Lee Andersen, whose marriage must be a perfunctory bore). Forever one misstep away from a pratfall is the always-in-a-hurry maid, Edith (Brianna Stronk).

Throughout this three-act sophisticated romp, Coward’s impeccable dialogue entertains. Simple laugh lines include such non-sitcom words as didactic, puerile, obtuse, umbrage, and phrases such as "threw in the sponge and not the gauntlet" and "Concentrate! Think of nothing!" The cast spits out bantering at a steady clip and has a jolly good time doing so. Oh yes, they’re frightfully British, swig many martinis, and the real world is turned on its ear by the spirit world.

Veteran Seip squeezes every possible laugh out of the flighty Madame Arcati. Equally adept at comedic timing is Stronk whose previous roles include strong dramatic performances as Laura (The Glass Menagerie) and Catherine (The Heiress).

Director Robert Lunde works the Suffield Players magic on their latest arresting set -- the livingroom in a English country cottage designed by him and Konrad Rogowski

The history of "Blithe Spirit" invites name-dropping. At its 1941debut in England, the great Margaret Rutherford was Madame Arcati; on Broadway that same year, Mildred Natwick did the honors. Both actresses reprised their roles in the British and American film versions; and Natwick also in the 1956 U.S. television version. Although born 67 years ago, the play is ageless.

Don't Dress For Dinner

Suffield Players, Suffield
Weekends through February 23, 2008
By Donna Bailey-Thompson

Deliberate, fantastic lies that if recounted during a 55-minute hour would qualify as confabulations worthy of certification are the fluffy stuff of The Suffield Players’ contribution to breaking up any mid-winter blues. "Don’t Dress For Dinner" is a delectable French farce. Thanks to Director Rayah Martin’s sense of pace and an appreciation of the ridiculous, this silly play delivers its purpose: it entertains.

Because the cast takes their characters seriously, the roles fall several giggles below (or above?) cartoon level. A preposterous plan is conjured up by an otherwise sophisticated Bernard (Robert Lunde) – to take advantage of his wife, Jacqueline’s (Gina Marie Paro) absence by inviting his mistress Suzanne (Meagan Kinney) to come spend the weekend. In the event Suzanne’s presence requires explanation, Bernard includes his best friend Robert (Christopher Berrien) as a houseguest who can pass, if needed, as Suzanne’s lover. What Bernard doesn’t know is that his wife and best friend are lovers. This recipe for failure has one more ingredient, a chef hired to come in and cook, Suzette (Amy Rucci, who cavorts with abandon).

When Jacqueline announces she’s staying home, pandemonium breaks loose. Extemporaneous lies pile up leading to improbable entanglements, sight gags and double entendres, until the identities are qualified and re-qualified so many times that no one knows who’s who or what. Eventually the multi-dimensional puzzle is figured out by Suzette’s husband, George (Edwin R. Lewis, III): that rapid fire dialog is enough to make heads spin.

Deft comedic timing is delivered by Lunde, Berrien and Rucci who feed the laugh meter with aplomb. In the brief mop-up role of George, Lewis injects gravitas into the whirling nonsense.

"Don’t Dress For Dinner" is so light – how light is it? – too light to leave a carbon footprint.