The Weir

Last night, I spent the evening in an old pub nestled deep in the Irish countryside, well off the beaten path. There was a biting wind that was howling outside and seeping into the cracks of the old building. Inside, the coal-burning stove gave the room a welcoming glow and provided just enough heat. In front of it was an old rug so worn that its pattern was unrecognizable, and a chair with tattered upholstery. The stools and chairs in the pub were all mismatched. The bar itself was covered in knick-knacks and had an old broken TV. You could tell the walls housed a lot of memories and conversations and had seen a lot of laughter, definitely some brawls, and maybe some tears, too.

Last night, I spent the evening with four Irishmen and an Irishwoman—Jack, Brendan, Jim, Finbar, and Valerie. Brendan, the bartender, was quiet but polite, and a good listener. Jack, a mechanic, was downing pints impressively fast, and although he seemed jovial enough, I wouldn’t want to cross him. Jim was the most quiet of everyone, but as the night progressed, he opened up a bit. Finbar, in a white suit and pink dress shirt, stood apart from his simply-clothed friends, and his slickness made him a little more suspect than the rest of the lot. And Valerie…Valerie was a plainly pretty woman who just moved from Dublin to rent a house in the country, and the men took it upon themselves to put on airs and impress her with their ales and anecdotes.

Last night, profanity and fantastical ghost stories flowed freely, and as the evening went on, the men’s tales grew more exaggerated…and scary. Ireland is renowned for its ghost tales and folklore, and these men, like any respectable Irishmen, knew how to tell a story (the alcohol undoubtedly encouraged and inspired their dramatics). With their stories about fairies, ghosts, and unexplainable happenings, they each tried to top each other's tales, entertaining and frightening each other. I questioned their superstitions and honesty, not knowing what to believe. But it was quiet, unassuming Valerie, whose story about why she really left Dublin--a true ghost story--ended the unsettling evening and allowed the men to let their guard down.

Last night, I saw a play called The Weir at South Coast Repertory, and felt like I was in a pub experiencing an evening with real people. Never once did I not feel like I was really there with them, in the dark Irish countryside. And never did I fully believe any of their drunken ghost stories…until the end of the play.

[Daniel Reichert, Richard Doyle, Tony Ward, Kirsten Potter, and James Lancaster 

in The Weir by Conor McPherson. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR]

The Weir runs through April 3rd. Get your tickets here, if you dare...

-Guest blogger and OCG writer Lisa Birle

A Midsummer Night's Dream at South Coast Repertory

Lovers in the woods, the mischief of fairies, a royal wedding, and the tragicomic play of labor workers. All this and more is bundled up in South Coast Repertory's production of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.

"Led by the wildly inventive director Mark Rucker, off go four young lovers into The Woods on a midsummer evening—when strange and wonderful things are likely to happen.  This shimmering Shakespearean fantasy features the antics of supernatural creatures—the fairies led by Oberon and Titania and, of course, the impish Puck, who creates chaos in the night.  But what fun to join in the dream, knowing that by daylight all will be well in a mystical, moon-drenched masterpiece."


The main action of the play revolves around four lovers who suffer, in various way, from the perils of I love him, but he loves her, and she loves another him, and he loves me. We've all been there before. Things get really murky (and hilariously so) when the fairies of the forest (here portrayed as a band of gypsy-like pajama party-ers looking to cause mischief and steal clothing off the lovers one article at a time) meddle in the humans' affairs with potent love potion from a flower struck by Cupid's arrow. This results in a scantily clad group of befuddled young people trying to make sense of the sudden changes in affections. What fickle lovers we mortals be!

[Nick Gabriel, Kathleen Early, Dana Green and Tobie Windham in South Coast Repertory's 2011 production of A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare.  Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.]

Meanwhile, the fairy king and queen, Oberon & Titania, are experiencing a relational dilemma of their own. Oberon is angry with Titania for taking possession of an Indian boy whom she refuses to give up to be Oberon's henchman. Queen or not, to defy the king is not kosher in this fairy kingdom. To get back at her, Oberon has his assistant, Puck, put the aforementioned love potion into Titania's eyes, setting her up to fall in love with the first beast or animal she sees when she wakes.

[Elijah Alexander and Susannah Schulman in South Coast Repertory's 2011 production of A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.]

While all this heavy love and fairy action is taking place, a group of common laboring men are rehearsing a play to present to the Athenian king and queen- Theseus and Hippolyta- at their upcoming wedding reception. This ragtag group of dudes provides much (but certainly not all) of the comedic relief of the play. Keep your eyes out for Hal Landon, Jr., who you should recognize as Scrooge from SCR's annual production of A Christmas Carol.

[(l. to r.) Hal Landon Jr., Richard Doyle, Patrick Kerr, William Francis McGuire, Michael Manuel and John-David Keller in South Coast Repertory's 2011 production of A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.]

[(l. to r.) John-David Keller, Patrick Kerr, Michael Manuel, Richard Doyle, Hal Landon Jr., and William Francis McGuire in South Coast Repertory's 2011 production of A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.]

Back to the fairy king and queen's marital tiff: Puck comes upon the rehearsing laborers and transforms the central actor, Bottom, into a donkey. Well, he turns his head into the head of a donkey. Many jokes regarding asses ensue. Titania awakes and falls for Bottom, who has the head of an ass, and Oberon's plan to humiliate her is well underway.

[(clockwise from bottom left) Dylan DoVale, Ryan Jones, Jaycob Hunter, Jordan Bellow, Rudy Martinez, Emmett Lee Stang, Susannah Schulman, Jennifer Stang and Patrick Kerr in South Coast Repertory's 2011 production of A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.]

Without giving away much more of the story, I'll simply say that what follows is nothing short of hilarious and well-played by all involved. At the end of the play, when most play-goers settle into a comfortable lethargy at the story's resolution, this story stirs its viewers into fits of laughter for the funniest scene of all.

[Richard Doyle and Patrick Kerr in South Coast Repertory's 2011 production of A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.]

Also, in this unique and intriguing production of the classic play, the fairies at times burst into dance and song set to psychedelic soul music. And why shouldn't they? I'd do the same thing if I were a fairy, methinks.

[Susannah Schulman in South Coast Repertory's 2011 production of A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.]

All that to say, you simply won't want to miss this one. Each actor shines in his/her own right, and the individual charms and quirks of each fit swimmingly into the play's action, making it a stunning production overall.

For tickets or further info, visit SCR's website.

-Blythe

on my iTunes: Feist's "1 2 3 4"

Crimes of the Heart at South Coast Repertory

Jennifer Lyon, Kate Rylie and Blair Sams in Beth Henley’s Crimes of the Heart, at South Coast Repertory May 7 - June 6, 2010.  Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.

Thanks to my fabulous friends at The OC Gazette and at South Coast Repertory, I’ve had the opportunity to see some incredible plays this year. Until recently, my visits to the Repertory were only annually, to see A Christmas Carol. But this year, I’ve been fortunate enough to have seen four productions—Fences, In a Garden, Doctor Cerberus, and the Pulitzer Prize-winning Crimes of the Heart, which runs through June 6th.  

Seeing these productions has made me realize how unique, and how underappreciated, the art of the play is. Plays are so different from my beloved musicals. Actors do not spontaneously break into song to help narrate the story, there are no flashy, choreographed dance sequences, no sweeping symphonies to note the mood and guide the audience’s feelings. Even reading a play is a unique experience. Unlike novels, settings are not used in plays to paint the mood of a scene, and they can’t be described in flowery paragraphs. Feelings cannot be explained; instead, every thought has to be expressed tangibly, every word has to be deliberate. Yes, plays have music and lights and sets, but those things tend to contextualize the story rather than help tell it. The responsibility of a play’s storytelling falls almost completely to the dialogue. Yet, a play can’t be too verbose, emotions must feel organic, and words must seem spontaneous.

Kate Rylie and Jennifer Lyon in Beth Henley’s Crimes of the Heart, at South Coast Repertory May 7 - June 6, 2010.  Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.

Crimes of the Heart, written by Beth Henley, was my favorite of the four productions. It tells the story of the three Magrath sisters of Hazlehurst, Mississippi, as they reunite in the face of family adversity—their grandfather is on his deathbed at the local hospital, and the youngest sister, Babe, has just shot her husband in the stomach. Add to that a dead horse, an abandoned lover (benevolently played by Nathan Baesel), an obnoxiously meddling cousin (Tessa Auberjonois, who steals every scene she’s in), and a smitten young lawyer (played with hilarious intensity by Kasey Mahaffy), and ya’ll have got some good old-fashioned southern drama on your hands.

Blair Sams and Tessa Auberjonois in Beth Henley’s Crimes of the Heart, at South Coast Repertory May 7 - June 6, 2010.  Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.

“It’s a human need. To talk about our lives. It’s an important human need,” Meg tells Babe in the play. And you will love listening to the Magrath sisters talk about their lives. The three lead actors—Blair Sams (Lenny), Jennifer Lyon (Meg), and Kate Rylie (Babe) —had me completely convinced that together they actually had endured all the drama of the Magrath family. While the characters all seem a little unhinged at times, the darker sides of their personalities are always complimented by a lighthearted, humorous argument over who ate Lenny’s birthday candy or why Meg got a store-bought dress for her senior prom. Drinking Cokes and gossiping while sitting on the kitchen counter like schoolgirls without a care in the world distracted the sisters—and distracted the audience—from dwelling on their deteriorating relationships, despairing careers, and tainted reputations. And with that token southern flair for drama that would have made Scarlett O’Hara proud, these sassy southern women almost—almost—convince you that it’s perfectly acceptable to respond to conflict by putting your head in the oven or shooting your husband. The tragedy and comedy are delivered with balance and heart.

  

Kasey Mahaffy and Kate Rylie in Beth Henley’s Crimes of the Heart, at South Coast Repertory May 7 - June 6, 2010.  Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.

As the play starts, Lenny’s just telegrammed for her sister Meg to leave behind her failed Hollywood dreams and to come home and help her with the family affairs. Lenny is the oldest of the sisters at thirty, and you can sense her maternal qualities and desire for responsibility even though she resents her duties and acts like a whiny teenager as much as a sensible older sibling. Meg is the middle sister at twenty-seven. A natural beauty, she keeps a cigarette lighter in her bra and her hair is disheveled in every scene; she’s a hot mess, and my favorite of the three women. Babe is twenty-four, doe-eyed, nice as pie, and fresh out of prison on bail. Her crime is what unfolds much of the sisters’ history in front of our eyes—all the childhood jealousies that have festered into resentment, the effects of their mother’s tragic death on each of the women, and the lingering consequences of their unsuccessful relationships with men. But the crime also unfolds and ultimately restores the sisters’ affection for each other. 

These sisters might all be a little bit crazy, but they’re also real. Each of them, at one point or another, will remind you of someone you know. They have a fierce, protective love for each other, which doesn’t mean they don’t fight about boys and candy. That’s what a family’s love is…it’s messy. It’s expressed with ill-timing and ineptness. But it’s real. And for a work of fiction to come alive on stage and convincingly demonstrate that is an amazing thing. 

Crimes of the Heart is showing at SCR through June 6th, 2010. For ticket information visit South Coast Repertory online or call the box office (714) 708-5555.

 

- Lisa Birle

Check out Lisa's blog Impressions

Get a sneak peak of scenes from Crimes of the Heart...

And for a little extra fun...

SCR's Hilariously Horrendous Doctor Cerberus

NOW HAUNTING COSTA MESA'S SCR, Doctor Cerberus swivels around the rickety and unorthodox Robertson Family and their own private horror film called life. [Graphic and Review by Jennifer Hood]

Life is, in many ways, a horror film. But it’s our own horror film. And eventually we all learn how to make it through without getting eaten by the monsters. We even learn to love our monsters. We’ve all caught Stockholm Syndrome, bowing willingly and even clinging lovingly to overbearing-Mommie-Dearest mothers, dark-side-Darth-Vader dads, and Wayne-Arnold-Wonder-Years brothers. Sure, they might be half-crazy and semi-vicious, but even Darth Vader sacrificed himself for Luke in the end. We hold out for our own personal monsters – errr families – because well, they might be horrific, but they’re our horrific family.

So goes the hilarious and unexpected feel-good story of 13 year-old Franklin Robertson and his eccentric, self-destructing, yet strangely compatible family in South Coast Repertory's world premiere of Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa's play, Doctor Cerberus. Aguirre-Sacasa is a genius at meshing drama and humor, having written for Marvel comic series including Spider Man and The Fantastic Four, for the HBO series "Big Love," and delving into interesting projects like his current work on creating a musical version of American Psycho (Note to Aguirre-Sacasa: Can I hope that Christian Bale might revisit the madcap role on the stage in the spirit and glory of his tuneful Newsies days?!).

[Dr. Cerberus and antihero Franklin Robertson]

Doctor Cerberus swivels around the rickety and unorthodox Robertson Family and their own private horror film called life. The play takes place in 1983 as their own “threadbare version of the American Dream” bumbles through the days in an indifferent paranoia about possible Nuclear Holocaust from Reagan’s arch nemesis (“The Focus of Evil” AKA the Soviet Union), hardly realizing that they’ll more likely destroy each other first.

Dad is the self-appointed king and god of this rebellious family unit. An everyday tax-man who has an inner yearning to be a legend of the Greek or Roman caliber, he requires his minions to call him “sir” despite his unattended authority and conquered view on life. The mother, a hilariously neurotic pessimist who thrives in her own tormented reality, is “collecting pills for her own private, personal holocaust” she threatens sardonically. All the while, the “two monsters who crawled out of her womb” float through the Robertson Family horror tale in their own naïve ways. Rodney, the older brother, swims through the days in a fanatic veneration for The Washington Redskins while Franklin, the play’s unsuspecting antihero, finds his own escape in collecting comic books, torching action figures, and immersing himself in local midnight TV spot, "Nightmare Theater," a nightly replay of old-school horror flicks hosted by hoakie TV personality Doctor Cerberus. Franklin knows everything and anything about the classic horror and sci-fi genre. A husky kid with no friends (although his dad fancies himself Franklin’s best friend) and a fancy for his brother’s football buddies, he dreams of becoming Doctor Cerberus’s sidekick and biographer.

[The Robertson Family watching in a how-to video on surviving nuclear fallout]

The play is a refreshingly honest, yet hyper-stylized take on growing up and holding fast to dreams that threaten to be eaten by the spellbinding, killer blob monster of the “Just get your 9-5 with wife and kids American Dream.” It’s a “reach for the stars” and “never give up” message, sans cheese and sap. Rather, the moral is given through the pity-worthy and wittily constructed monsters of Franklin’s own family. His own kin of zombies, bitten by societal traditions and resented responsibilities, are eventually saved from their drooling, desensitized stagger through life, revived again by Franklin’s unflappable and ever-fearless delve toward his dreams despite a fearful and scary world. In the end they learn that it’s not so much making life into a romantic comedy or expecting each day to end in a happily ever after, but about making the most of your own horror film, writing the humor into your seemingly lackluster circumstances, and finding inspiration even in your rejection letters. Happy films are overrated. Only the strong survive horror films; and they’ve got the real stories to tell. 

["Nightmare Theater" host: Doctor Cerberus]

Take your monster-mash family (yes that's a command) to enjoy the hilariously horrendous Doctor Cerberus at South Coast Repertory through May 2nd. Nab your tix at www.scr.org, by phone at (714) 708-5555 or by visiting the box office at 655 Town Center Drive in Costa Mesa. Go tonight and you'll get the opportunity to pick the brains of the play's cast during the free post-show discussions led by SCR's literary team. 

-Jen

On my iPod: This magnificence...

PS- Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, I'm sorry for all the adverbs.

The Lanuage Archive

Last Saturday afternoon, I went to see The Language Archive, Julia Cho's romantic comedy about love and miscommunication. The play made its world premiere at South Coast Repertory on March 26th and will be playing there through April 25th.

The play offers a cornucopia of themes and emotions, and is sure to tug the heartstrings of every audience member - from the book smart intelligentsia to the artsy type to the stay at home mom, and everyone who falls in between or is a hybrid combination of 'types.'

The play, which just won the prestigious Susan Smith Blackburn Prize, tells the story of George, a brilliant linguist who knows how to talk to everyone except his wife, Mary, who is about to leave him.
George is a man who is precise, and uses language with respect and economy. When his wife Mary begins crying regularly and unexpectedly, he wonders why she is "sad." Mary tells the audience that she cries because she feels deep emotion; she cries, "because it is so true, or because it is so beautiful, or because it is so tragic.." Mary is frustrated by her husband's seeming lack of emotional connection with her, and ultimately, with life.

[Betsy Brandt and Leo Marks. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR]

Meanwhile, at work, George is in danger of losing his chance to record the dying Elloway language. Its last two speakers - an elderly married couple - are in the midst of a fight, and they refuse to speak their native tongue until they resolve the argument in English.

"English is the language of anger...say something in English and you can always take it back."

[Tony Amendola, Leo Marks, Laura Heisler and 

Linda Gehringer. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR]

All the while, George's assistant Emma has a not-so-secret crush on George, and goes to great lengths to get his attention. The action of the play shows her learning Esperanto, the so-called "perfect language" that George greatly admires. From her language teacher, Emma receives some valuable (and hilarious) advice about love and language. 

"I never knew learning a language could require such bravery."

"My dear, nothing on earth could require more!"

[Laura Heisler and Linda Gehringer.  Photo by Henry DiRocco/ SCR]

Without giving away too much, I'll say that the play stirs up your feelings about human connection and language fallibility. Cho touches on the powerful theme that language, or our ability to use language effectively, struggles (and sometimes fails) to bridge the gap from one person's heart to another's.

[Leo Marks and Betsy Brandt.  Photo by Henry DiRocco/ SCR] 

"It is sad to be the last speaker of your language. Yes, it is."

-Blythe

On my blip: John Lennon's "Instant Karma"

"In A Garden" at South Coast Repertory

"Before our grand adventure can begin, I need to know what we're talking about." This past Saturday, I was invited to see In A Garden, Howard Korder's new comedic play, at South Coast Repertory. I was accompanied by my dear friend and Gazette writer, the lovely Lisa Birle. After enjoying a fabulous, unforgettable, Cuban meal at Habana in Costa Mesa, we booked it over to SCR, arriving just moments before the much anticipated rising curtain.

The play begins in the early 90s, set in the fictional Middle Eastern country of Aqaat. The stage is occupied by a small (might I add, beautiful) table and two chairs, with a silver tea set, and an ashtray resting on the table's surface. Behind this central table, there is a distant view of the city and sky that tells the audience of the passing of time. A large, cold, concrete structure encloses the space where the two main characters, Andrew Hackett, an American architect, and Fawaz Othman, the Minister of Culture, will spend their time during the evening's performance. 

Mark Harelik and Matt Letscher in Howard Korder's In A Garden. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.

In the story, Andrew Hackett (Matt Letscher) is commissioned to build a summerhouse, or gazebo as he prefers to call it, for Fawaz Othman (Mark Harelik), a mysterious man who is never quite clear about what he wants. Fawaz considers himself to be a patron instead of a client; valuing his own appreciation for architecture and his recollection of the past over Andrew's expertise and growing urgency to build. Fawaz hangs tightly to the solace he finds in the childhood memory of his father's garden, a place lined with lemon trees and buzzing with the flight of dragonflies. Andrew's only clear marching orders are to create something that is surprising and inventive - a secret, evocative structure that can stand still in the midst of a spinning, falling, dissenting Middle Eastern world. Throughout the show, the pair intriguingly look out at the audience as they envision the garden space where the summerhouse will be built.

Matt Letscher, Jarion Monroe and Mark Harelik in Howard Korder's In A Garden. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.

With cultural and political differences in tow, the architect and the Minister of Culture offer witty banter and bickering, reminiscent of the conflict and humorous feuding between the two leading men in Neil Simon's The Odd Couple. There's male bonding; chain-smoking; yelling; confusion; a hilarious, heightened display of a certain finger; even a display of tears. Andrew's patience wanes as the years pass, frustrated with each overseas trip, and each new presentation of ideas that hits another wall of Fawaz's disapproval. Fawaz crowns himself with a mentoring role and tells his architect, "Without me, you are unfinished." He demands, "I want what the Tempietto is - even if it did not exist." Ain't no big thing, right? 

Matt Letscher and Mark Harelik in Howard Korder's In A Garden. Photo by Henry DiRocco/SCR.

"There's a great deal in the world that needs reinventing...better buildings make us better people." In this play a talented young man - an artist with a pen and a straightedge - yearns to be inspired by another man's interpretation of history, culture, and his own personal space. The stage casts an environment for truth and trust as we watch the developing rapport between two uniquely matched, hardheaded men; an unlikely pair that is bound to bring a smile to your face. This performance is entertaining and insightful - a big thumbs up in my book!


In A Garden is showing at SCR through March 28th, 2010. For ticket information visit South Coast Repertory online or call the box office (714) 708-5555.
 
- Sara
Listening to Vampire Weekend's "Giving Up The Gun"

Now Showing At SCR: Fences

This past Saturday, I went to see Fences, a multi-award winning play (including a Pulitzer Prize) now showing at South Coast Repertory. As many plays as I’ve been to in the past, I’ve never been in a theater audience where the vibe and personality of the viewers felt more like a Tuesday-night Lost party. At least two or three times during the play, a twist or turn would occur within the plot, wrenching your emotional attachment to the characters, making you question your allegiance to them, making you doubt whether they were in fact hero or villain. During these moments, immediate gasps and sighs, surprised “oohs,” and even whispered discussions would break out throughout the crowd, most of whom were seasoned theater-goers whose etiquette would otherwise never allow for whispering during a production. We couldn’t help it, though. We were shocked.

Troy (Charlie Robinson) in August Wilson’s Fences, at South Coast Repertory January 22-February 21, 2010.  Photo: Henry DiRocco/SCR.

The play revolves around the Maxson family, and more perfectly, around the effect the patriarch of the family, Troy Maxson, has upon his family. Troy is a self-proclaimed hero of heroes who unknowingly reveals himself as more of a helpless victim than a champion as the play goes on. He’s a resentful victim of his life’s circumstances, a man who has become fenced in from happiness by the conviction that he was never paid what he was owed in any right: not from his father, not from his former baseball career, not from his employer, and not from his family. He’s been cheated. Troy sees himself as some sort of misjudged and disrespected hero, and so storms around the small sphere of his life, his home’s yard where the whole play takes place, dictating and enforcing his own emotions upon everyone around him. His humor is magnetic and his rage is titanic.

(l. to r.) Troy (Charlie Robinson), Rose (Juanita Jennings), Bono (Gregg Daniel) and Lyons (Brandon J. Dirden) in August Wilson’s Fences, at South Coast Repertory January 22-February 21, 2010.  Photo: Henry DiRocco/SCR.

 

The play felt so unlike most theatrical productions I’ve seen. In most plays, you expect that theater quality: the actors speaking with perfect enunciation and voice projection, reading lines that sound nothing like conversations that take place in life. You expect and enjoy the hyper-stylized version of life. But in this play, I was so taken by the main character’s realism. It was in the way he talked, moved and laughed. This brilliance of humanity is due both to August Wilson, the playwright who wrote Fences, and Charlie Robinson, the actor portraying Troy Maxson. James Earl Jones, the original cast member portraying Troy Maxson in Fences, said of August Wilson, “Few writers can capture dialect as dialogue in a manner as interesting and accurate as August’s.”

Rose (Juanita Jennings) and Troy (Charlie Robinson) in August Wilson’s Fences, at South Coast Repertory January 22-February 21, 2010.  Photo: Henry DiRocco/SCR.

In hindsight, what is most interesting to me is how much I related to the play as I would to a Hitchcock film. It had that same conflicting appeal to it. You both love and hate the hero (if you can call him that) and his effect on those around him. He is a quasi-hero who swaps between his own version of good and evil throughout the whole story. Like so many of Hitchcock’s later heroes, there’s an “unexamined selfishness” that characterizes Troy. The themes in Fences are all common themes found in Hitchcock films, too: harsh father figures, the acknowledgement that our own personal judgments on morals and what “feels right” (a phrase Troy uses when justifying himself during the play) are completely subjective, and “the dramatic appeal of the insecure,” as film critic Maurice Yacowar put. Yacowar called Hitchcock a poetic realist “engaged with the moral and perceptual nature of man,” and that is what August Wilson, a poetic realist himself, masterfully explores in Fences.

Like Hitchcock films, August’s tumultuous ride in Fences doesn’t end with a moral, but with the small and uncertain sort of closure that comes through a death.  “There is…no Langian handshake by which conflict of interest is resolved in the promise of a liberal compromise,” wrote Ronnie Schieb of Hitchcock’s conclusion within Shadow of a Doubt. Similarly, in Fences, you don’t find an epic happy ending wherein both sides meet in a negotiated understanding. Nevertheless, you leave the characters with a small sense of relief and even a small sense of hope that they’ve drawn their own small conclusions from the series of events; and strangely, you leave feeling contented and moved despite everything that’s happened to conflict with and challenge your own morals. That’s because it’s not a play that reaches for a lesson on life; it’s a portrait of a life through a beautifully poetic lens.

Fences is playing at SCR through Feb 21st. Get tickets here!

-Jen

On my iPod: "My Heroes Have Always Been Crazy" by The A-Sides