The Long Goodbye: An Evening of One-Act Plays by Tennessee Williams
July 20, 2006
By Eric Marchese

Tennessee Williams as comedic playwright? Apparently so, among other surprises, fleshed out in this program. "The Demolition Downtown" wrings laughter from the plight of a couple (an archly comic Jay Lewis and Wendy Braun, well-cast by director Sally Norton) whose lives have been ruined by a new political order bent upon demolishing, literally and otherwise, the lives of its citizens. Along similar lines, though only covertly funny, is "The Municipal Abattoir," a rarely seen work in which a young rebel (Paul Pakler) works to persuade a timid middle-aged clerk (Rick Kopps) that assassinating a fascist dictator is the only way to restore justice to the land—all the while using strong-arm psychological tactics his political enemies might applaud. Dave Barton directs this stark playlet as if everything nightmarish in it is perfectly mundane.

"Portrait of a Madonna," crisply directed by Jill Cary Martin, features an over-the-hill Southern belle (Karen Harris) who might be Amanda Wingfield—if her two children had had her committed. Without any Menagerie children to wheedle and cajole, Harris' character is outright pathetic. Directed with self-assurance by Sharyn Case, "The Long Goodbye" extends the comparison to three figures: struggling writer Joe (Alex Dorman), his floozy sister, Myra (Melita Ann Sagar), and the spirit of their dead mother (Harlene Miller). Like Tom Wingfield and Williams, Joe is determined, through his work, to be the guardian of his family's however-meager legacy. Like "Madonna" and other striking Williams works, the well-acted "Goodbye" is an exquisitely poetic look at memory and the unforgiving nature of time—and the fulcrum of the evening. With sensual work by Arturo Jones and Jamie Lieberman, Michael David Fox's sensitive handling of the male-female dichotomy presented in the part-English, part-Spanish "Talk To Me Like the Rain and Let Me Listen" is a gut-wrenching blast of Williams at his most primal. It can't possibly top the eloquence of "Goodbye." But then again, why would anyone want it to?

Los Angeles Times

A literary journey with Williams

The world knows Tennessee Williams for the poetically abstracted realism of such plays as "A Streetcar Named Desire," but his restless imagination also took him into the realms of political commentary and grim, almost absurdist humor.

In Santa Ana, Rude Guerrilla Theatre Company has arranged five of his one-act plays into a literary journey called "The Long Goodbye." Familiar characters and themes are revisited in "Portrait of a Madonna," about an addled Southern belle who's being shipped off to the state asylum, and the title one-act "The Long Goodbye," in which a brother mourns his inability to help his struggling, unhappy sister. Performing blemishes and tonal variations weaken these presentations, but the program deepens as emotionally injured lovers (Arturo Jones and Jamie Lieberman) reunite in "Talk to Me Like the Rain and Let Me Listen …. " Delivered in alternating phrases of English and Spanish, the piece is directed by Michael David Fox.

The post-intermission plays plunge into parallel worlds in which despotic governments have set about annihilating anyone they don't like. Humor commingles with horror in Sally Norton's staging of "The Demolition Downtown," as two couples (Wendy Braun and Jay Lewis, Alyson Fainbarg and David Chorley) — their faces ghostly white, their bodies frozen by indecision — try to maintain a semblance of normalcy as explosions advance ever nearer.

"The Municipal Abattoir," written in the late 1960s or early '70s but just recently brought to light, presents an allegory about a man (Rick Kopps) meekly plodding off to his government-ordered execution when he encounters a young revolutionary (Paul Pakler) and a chance to alter his fate. The piece is all the more powerful for the understated way in which Dave Barton has staged it. The shock of recognition awaits.

— Daryl H. Miller

OC Register

Friday, July 21, 2006

Theater: 'The Long Goodbye' puts Williams in new light

Review: A Rude Guerrilla staging offers insight into author's work in the short-play form.

By ERIC MARCHESE

Special to the Register

For most theatergoers, any mention of Tennessee Williams conjures the names "The Glass Menagerie," "A Streetcar Named Desire," "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" and a half-dozen other of the playwright's works.

By the same token, most theater companies rarely venture beyond this short list. That makes Rude Guerrilla Theater Company's collection and staging of a raft of Williams' playlets a refreshing change of pace.

Some of the plays in "The Long Goodbye: An Evening of One-Act Plays by Tennessee Williams" bear a family resemblance to landmark full-length Williams works, while others are markedly different. Either way, they afford a fascinating glimpse into Williams' way of working in a shorter format.

The evening's first half burrows comfortably into familiar Williams elements – the neurotic spinster, unrequited love, the displaced family, wistful longings for the past, torrid passions that satisfy the flesh but not the soul.

The opening play, "Portrait of a Madonna," focuses on Lucretia Collins (Karen Harris), a delicate, puritanical old maid who imagines herself as a faded belle – and whom her tongue-clucking neighbors, either rightly or not, have labeled as demented.

This 1946 "Portrait" depicts a character much like Amanda Wingfield from "Glass" of a year earlier – but with no children to badger and cajole – while also a warm-up for the fragile, near-unhinged Blanche DuBois of "Streetcar" a year later. The one-act is well-cast – Harris gives heart-tugging work as the delusional Lucretia – and cleanly directed by Jill Cary Martin.

Written in 1940, "The Long Goodbye" could be a short-play preview of "Glass," which came five years later. Here's a fragmented Southern family forced into survival mode in St. Louis, with the story told through the eyes of writer Joe (Alex Dorman) who, like Tom Wingfield, is a stand-in for Williams. Instead of idealistic Laura, he has floozy Myra (Melita Ann Sagar) for a sister.

Their saintly mother (Harlene Miller), a far cry from the manipulative Amanda, died of cancer – yet she haunts Joe in tortuous flashbacks. Joe's crushing guilt covers his and Myra's squandering of mom's legacy – $300 in life insurance – and his inability to prevent Myra's untimely death.

"Goodbye" is an exquisitely poetic look at an artist painfully aware of the cruel nature of time. Nailed by Dorman and Sager, the contrast between sensitive, bookish Joe and crude, carnal Myra is the stuff of Williams. Dorman in particular invests Joe with a quiet melancholy and deep introspection; his portrayal and Sharyn Case's sure-handed direction make the play the fulcrum of the entire evening.

From 1953, "Talk to Me Like the Rain and Let Me Listen" is a short meditation on the nature of romantic relationships. During an intense rainstorm, an unnamed man and woman (Arturo Jones, Jamie Lieberman) bare their souls – he his terror of city life, she her desire to escape their sexually great but spiritually vapid coupling to start a new life.

Director Michael David Fox's handling is even yet sensitive, the material lent added dimension by Analola Santana's Spanish translations, David Chorley's relentless backdrop of thunder and gritty, sensual work by the cast.

Act Two gives us the offbeat (for Williams) quasi-political satire "The Demolition Downtown" and the stark political commentary of "The Municipal Abattoir." From 1976, "Demolition" wrings laughter from the plight of a couple whose lives have been ruined by a new political order bent upon demolishing, literally and otherwise, its citizens' lives.

Director Sally Norton's concept (two couples are clad in black, with chalky white faces) and casting trump her uncertain pacing. Jay Lewis gives a brilliant exposition of the jitters, Wendy Braun is sassy, and Chorley's sonic booms are humorously window- and nerve-rattling.

This is the West Coast premiere of "Abattoir," written in the 1960s yet unpublished until 2005. Stark and covertly funny, it concerns a young rebel (Paul Pakler) who works to persuade a middle-aged clerk (Rick Kopps) that assassinating a fascist dictator during an impending military parade is the only way to restore justice to the land.

Pakler's Svengali uses the kind of psychological warfare his political enemies would applaud; Kopps' character then deliberates on his choices. Dave Barton aptly directs the proceedings as if its nightmarish qualities are perfectly mundane – sadly true regardless of the story's outcome.

Barton's set designs for all five plays feature six ceiling-to-floor white curtains against the rear wall and a variety of vintage furnishings conveying the haunting and yes, often biting world of Tennessee Williams.