‘Morning’s at Seven’ shows ins and outs of sibling bond
17-20 MUSIC 22 FILM
artsysartsy
8-10 THEATRE 13-14 ART
all in the family:
hler by Gwenyfar Ro ven Morning's at Se
H H H H H use • 613 Castle Street
Cape Fear Playho 8 p.m. -31 & April 4-7, March 21-24, 28 $20 s, 3 p.m. • $15Sunday matinee ductions.org www.bigdawgpro
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ig dawg productions got off to a
great start this year with their much heralded production of “Harvey.” They are continuing to pack houses with their current offering of Paul Osborn’s “Morning’s at Seven,” one of many shows that artistic director Steve Vernon thought fit into his theme’s focus of family during the 2013 season. Big Dawg has seen phenomenal box-office success in the last few years with several of the Jones/Hope/ Wooten comedies, “Dixie Swim Club,” for example. “Morning’s at Seven” is in a similar but slightly less sappy vein—and without the madcap comedy that typifies the Jones/Hope/Wooten brand. Written in the late 1930s it centers around a midwestern family facing crises of several generations. Four aging sisters, Cora (Chris Brown), Aaronetta (Deb Bowen), Ida (Nancy Klase) and Esther (Suzanne Nystrom) live in close proximity to each other and feel that by their mid-sixties, their lives should be settled into a predictable pattern. But no family is textbook—simple and perfect. Ida, for example, has married a wonderful man named Carl (Skip Maloney), who sees himself as a failure. This leads to a variety of problematic episodes for Ida and her son, Homer (David Tomczyk), who has finally (at the age of 40) brought home the girl he has been engaged to for the last four years. On the most important night for Homer and Ida, the eldest and most successful sister in terms of financial and social status, Esther, finds herself forcibly separated from her husband, David (David Silverthorne). He is a pompous, imperious ass that hates her family and has finally, after 40 years of marriage, declared his home a “no-go area” to his in-laws. Just in case life wasn’t complicated enough on this high-stakes night, Cora decides, after years of living with her sister, Aaronetta, she wants to live alone with
8 encore | march 27 - april 2, 2013| www.encorepub.com
her husband, Theodore (Craig Myers). It is easy to see why this show could become a favorite for regional and community theatres. It is at its heart, like many families, an ensemble piece where the performers must support each other in order for the larger work to succeed. Director Norman Aronovic has assembled a cast that really works in harmony, even while portraying a discordant situation. They almost work together too well. I have never seen sisters treat each other with such courtesy. Usually, when a group of siblings gets together, they talk over each other with a series of jabs and innuendos and one-upmanship, then they close ranks if anyone from the outside world attempts the same. Rather than being settled into a series of awkward but acceptable relationships, we see here a family of distinct individuals who have all accepted each other for their foibles. Deb Bowen’s Aaronetta and Chris Brown’s Cora are the two most interesting. Sharing a roof and man (Theodore) for 40 years would be difficult for most women. Bowen’s ascorbic, disappointed and slightly confused Aaronetta seems an anachronism when viewed through the lens of 2013, but set in the 1930s she is an all-too-common, all-too-recognizable person. Options for women were more limited back then; even though all these people have houses during the Depression, it is clear that they are not wealthy or particularly well-educated. I was completely torn between Bowen and Brown, both of their needs and desires seemed justified. What kind of pall hangs over this house that they can’t resolve? The object of their mutual silent battle—namely, Theodore—is perhaps the most likable character in the show. Myers really plays him as a kind, thoughtful, caring man, who tries to do the right thing as he sees fit for this crazy family he loves. The oldest sister, and the only one to come close to escaping, is Esther, played by Suzanne Nystrom. She is a perfect choice for this role, personifying understated elegance. She seems to have taken on a “mother hen peace keeping” role in the family, rather than the stereotypical bossy oldest sister. She actually makes family life look pleasant, in spite of her woes. And when she tells her husband to go to hell, she almost seems to glow with an inner strength and power. My favorite character, by far, is Myrtle Brown, the
unfortunate object of Homer’s affection. Played by the sweet and pretty Lori Winner, poor Myrtle is so kind, and tries so hard to impress the family. I wanted to scream, “Run, don’t walk!” upon her entries. In 1938 a girl of Myrtle’s age and social background had very few options. Homer’s got a house and a job; he’s a great catch by those early 20th-century standards, even he is a bit of a wimp—OK, more than a wimp. Tomczyk brings us Homer as a case-study Freud would have relished. He’s the “quiet type who always kept to himself.” The audience can practically see him suddenly snap and unleash a rampage. Though the family rallies around him, there is a definite hands-off feeling from his aunts and uncles; something lies beneath the surface they don’t entirely trust. Even though he is not likable, as seen through the perspective of this family, Esther’s husband David garners the most sympathy. Two hours with these people isn’t a walk in the park—but 40 years with them? Sheesh. Not a single person is someone with whom I’d want to befriend. David Silverthorn nails the monomaniacal, difficult, self-important man who wants to be the center of his wife’s affections. He also really loves her and shows it very gently when he needs to. Just a look at them will tell though he probably thought about it many times, the reason they haven’t moved to another town is he knows her sibling dependency. Silverthorne and Nystrom engage in the tenderest moment in the show. Thankfully, they don’t milk it; they just let it hang gently in the air between them. The Cape Fear Playhouse is an interesting space for a theatre. With low ceilings and less than five feet between the stage and the audience, it is incredibly intimate. For a show like this, it makes the audience less of voyeurs watching from over the neighbor’s fence and more like awkward guests at a picnic who are trapped at a family squabble in unfortunately close quarters. It heightens the tension considerably. The two simple wooden houses with porch railings, both alike in dignity, have served for 40 years as the framework of family life. It’s really well-executed, complete with “keeping up appearances” lawn furniture. It looks like the back yards of my childhood neighborhood. I find myself amazed over and over again at the quality of the technical production at Big Dawg. It must stand up to much closer scrutiny than any other venue, by virtue of the space. Yet, over and over again, they deliver great sets, props and costumes, which add that extra bit of pizzazz to a good show.