Vital vignettes
Tennessee Williams' short stuff
by Bill Rodriguez
THE TENNESSEE WILLIAMS SUMMER FESTIVAL. Featuring The Long Goodbye, Auto da Fé, The
Unsatisfactory Supper, The Lady of Larkspur Lotion, The Case of
the Crushed Petunias, Wagon Full of Cotton, This Property is
Condemned, Steps Must Be Gentle, IRise In Flame, Cried the
Phoenix, and Lord Byron's Love Letter. Presented by 2nd Story
Theatre at the Meeting House at Tiverton Four Corners on July 30 and 31.
If Tennessee Williams had only slipped into his post-Night
of the Iguana creative decline a few decades later, he could have had a
rollicking second career writing self-help books. For his family, to be merely "dysfunctional" would have been something to aspire
to. In the rarely performed short plays 2nd Story Theatre is staging, we get
glimpses of them all. His mother, the prim and proper daughter of a rector;
father, a boorish skirt-chaser who called him "Miss Nancy"; sister, a troubled
young woman who was lobotomized to make her less troublesome; Williams himself,
an effeminate hypochondriac tormented and repressed by his homosexuality.
Director Pat Hegnauer has assembled a wide-ranging showcase of his short work,
judging by the second half of the Tennessee Williams Summer Festival I
attended. (Both programs of five mini-plays will be performed on the closing
weekend.) You'll laugh, you'll sigh. Reeking of magnolias and sweat, the effete
and self-deluded denizens of Williams' world strut or fret themselves into
these vignettes to argue or bleed for us.
Performances are in the Meeting House of the Tiverton Four Corners Art Center,
and the set design by Julia Bernart and John Montano provides a simple backdrop
appropriate for the diverse Southern gothic moods on display. A weathered and
worn once-white colonnade is spaced across a wall and two screen doors. The
white paint is as chipped on two bent-metal chairs that are nearly as battered
as the characters.
"Festival Two" opens and closes with Williams going to extremes. The first
piece is Auto da Fé, about a most disgruntled postal worker (Luis
Astudillo) and the mother (Rae Mancini) who tries to calm him down. Elois has
come across a pornographic photo that slipped out of an envelope at work, and
for the past 10 days he has been in turmoil. Astudillo plays him as a hopping
mad hysteric, far more stridently than necessary. But the payoff is convincing
with this man obsessed by the need for purity amidst the world's corruption.
Both the playwright and Astudillo take a different tack toward outlandishness,
to enjoyable effect, in the final play, The Case of the Crushed
Petunias. He plays a young man who walks into the Massachusetts notions
shop of one Dorothy Simple (Alyn Carlson-Webster), confessing brightly to
having trampled her orderly rows of petunias overnight. Williams takes satiric
whacks at such prissy folk as his mother and their timid ways, when the man
offers to repay her with wild rose seeds. Here Astudillo's high-energy comes
across as winningly, and appropriately, as Carlson-Webster's coy joy at being
liberated.
In The Unsatisfactory Supper, hard-working man of the house Archie Lee
(Michael Sloan) is furious that his collard greens were undercooked by Aunt
Rose (Bernice Bronson), his houseguest for the past year. His wife Baby Doll
(Karen Robinson) tries to mollify him, but he's adamant that it's time for
other relatives to take over. There's good ensemble work here, and the
melodramatic resolution works better in this short piece than it would have
with the momentum of a full-length play behind it.
More family relationships come up in The Long Goodbye. Joe (Dave
Rabinow) is moving out with his share of the insurance money from dearly
departed mother (Bronson). Sister Myra (Robinson) has grown coarse and
mercenary, he judges, when she doesn't see through the superficiality of her
coarse but socially advantageous gentleman caller, Bill (Stephen Palmer). There
are some wonderful Williams lines here. The mother discusses freedom and how
sometimes the only way you have time for it is to die; and, centrally, Joe
calls life "one long, long goodbye."
The best long, Williamsesque monologue of the evening is delivered
intelligently by John Capalbo, a loquacious writer manqué in The Lady
of Larkspur Lotion. Never has Williams's favorite defense mechanism,
self-delusion, been on more convincing display than by this spirited charlatan
with no brilliant 780-page manuscript about to be published. His female
counterpart is the faded Southern flower Mrs. Hardwick-Moore, given agreeable
personality by Mancini, who claims to have her quarterly income delayed from a
Brazilian rubber plantation. They are in a French Quarter rooming house that is
not much better than a brothel, where only such face-saving imaginings can keep
them one up on these cockroaches, who have the advantage of being able to
fly.
Despite all the excesses of his personal life, at his best Tennessee Williams
as an artist had a good sense of proportion and perspective. These short
examples of that skill don't overstay their welcome, under the attentive care
of 2nd Story.