Crumbs from the Table of Joy

In 1995, Lynn Nottage had her first professional production: Crumbs from the Table of Joy, at Second Stage in New York. The Keen Company is now presenting Crumbs' first New York revival, well-directed by Colette Robert, in a solid production of this solid play. The writing is assured, insightful, wry, and open-hearted. (Nottage was only new to being produced; she had completed a full-length play by the time she finished high school and later went to the Yale School of Drama.)

Malika Samuel, Jason Bowen, Shanel Bailey
Photo: Julieta Cervantes

In Crumbs, 17-year-old Ernestine Crump's mother has died, and her father, Godfrey, responded to the loss by dragging his two daughters to Brooklyn from Florida. He chose Brooklyn because he mistakenly believed he was moving closer to his spiritual leader, Father Divine, who turns out to actually live in Philadelphia. Ernestine and her sister Ermina face major culture shock (a more challenging school; kids making fun of their home-made clothing), and racism is never far away. And deep grief is with the family always.

Then Ernestine's mother's sister Lily shows up, with all she owns, and moves in with them. Ernestine's father, although he can be difficult, bad-tempered, and controlling, is in many ways a good man, and he takes Lily in even knowing that she will rock his barely maintained equilibrium. And she does. Lily is a radical, a communist, and a drinker. She is full of herself, frightened, and angry. And she is attracted to Godfrey, which she expresses with a marked lack of subtlety.

Sharina Martin
Photo: Julieta Cervantes

Godfrey insists that his daughters live by the terribly restrictive rules of Father Devine: basically, don't have fun, don't have sex. For Godfrey, who wasn't remotely religious before his wife's death, Father Devine and his rules are the life savers he needs to get from day to day. For the daughters, they are a prison. Godfrey neither listens to his girls nor allows them any freedom; he has no sense of who they are.

Nottage's usual wit and compassion are on full display here, although the play bites off a bit more than it can chew, delving into growing up, grief, politics, racism, sex, intermarriage, and religion. (To avoid spoilers, I won't go into detail.) But that's just about the best fault a good play can have, and Nottage's brilliance pops out again and again. Also, while the play is predominantly Ernestine's coming-of-age story, with the help of director Robert and the fabulous cast it provides full inner and outer lives for all of the other characters (save Ermina, who is only partially developed). 

The terrific cast includes Shanel Bailey, Jason Bowen, Sharina Martin, Natalia Payne, and Malika Samuel. And the show is well-supported by Brendan Gonzales Boston's scenic design, Johanna Pan's costume design, and Anshuman Bhatia's lighting design.

Seeing a new play by Lynn Nottage is always an excellent way to spend time, even if it's an old new play. She's simply one of the best playwrights writing today, or ever.

Wendy Caster

Molly Sweeney

What is a play? There are many definitions, of which this one (from the Merriam-Webster website) is a representative example:

A composition in verse or prose intended to portray life or character or to tell a story usually involving conflicts and emotions through action and dialogue and typically designed for theatrical performance [emphasis mine]

This is clearly a simple and perhaps simplistic definition; it ignores the many ways that great playwrights have broken the boundaries of theatre. But it's also a good starting place.

I was pondering this definition while watching the Keen Company's revival of Brian Friel's 1994 two-act play, Molly Sweeney. The story of a blind woman who undergoes surgery to partially restore her sight, it consists of alternating monologues by Molly, her husband Frank, and her surgeon Mr. Rice. As the play went on, I just kept wishing they would talk to each other!

The device of alternating monologues can provide conflict by having the characters give differing accounts of what happens; however, Molly, Frank, and Mr. Rice are largely in agreement. It can add dimensions to characters by allowing us to see them through varied points of view; again, there is little disagreement among the three characters. Monologues could also, theoretically, provide suspense by carefully doling out information, but Molly Sweeney telegraphs its aims, meaning, and ending early on.

So we're left with the language and the performances. The language is often lovely, as Friel's language generally is, but there's just too damned much of it. On and on the characters drone, well past the point of having anything to add.

And, in the Keen Company's production, directed by Jonathan Silverstein, the performances are disappointing. Molly (Pamela Sabaugh), Frank (Tommy Schrider), and Mr. Rice (Paul O’Brien) never bloom into characters. In addition, the actors fail to vivify the anecdotes they tell and the people they describe.

Molly Sweeney is not one of Friel's best works but I'm sure it has more to offer than evidenced by this sadly flat production.

Wendy Caster
(third row, press ticket)

Ordinary Days

You know that old writing rule, "Show, don't tell"? It makes a lot of sense, particularly in theatre, where we watch characters live their lives right in front of us. Of course, there's also "Rules are made to be broken," to which I would add, "but only if what you're doing is rises above the rules."

Kyle Sherman, Sarah Lynn Marion
Photo: Carol Rosegg

Ordinary Days, music and lyrics by Adam Gwon, does a tremendous amount of telling. It's a 99% sung-through musical, and the four characters spend a lot of time explaining themselves. 

Lonely Planet

In Steven Dietz's two-character play Lonely Planet, Jody (the subtle and smart Arnie Burton) owns a map store. He loves and is comforted by the factual information contained by maps. On an array of shelves, he moves a map over a hair; quiet exactness is his thing. Jody wears simple, nondescript clothing. Carl (the not-quite-right Matt McGrath) is anything but quiet, and what he does for a living is not clear. The jobs he sometimes claims include fixing car windows, restoring art, and dusting for fingerprints. He tells Jody that he does not make things up; he lies. Carl wears a different odd, stylish, and/or flamboyant outfit each time we see him.

Burton, McGrath
Photo: Carol Rosegg

As the play begins, Jody is alone on stage. He tells us that one day a chair appeared in his shop. He looked at it; he sat on it. We soon find out that Carl brought the chair, although it will take a while to find out why.

John & Jen

It is a wonderful thing that John & Jen exists. Written in the early 1990s, it was never going to be a huge hit or a big money-maker. Clearly Andrew Lippa (music and book) and Tom Greenwald (lyrics and book) simply had something to say, and a unique way to say it. The story of Jen and her brother John and then Jen and her son John, it addresses serious themes of abuse and the meaning of love, and the heavy parts outweigh the light ones. It is largely sung, and it covers nearly 40 years. Many of the songs are excellent: funny, sad, emotional, informative, silly, etc, as needed. Some are beautiful.

Kate Baldwin, Conor Ryan
Photo: Carol Rosegg

And it is a wonderful thing that Keen Company is presenting this strong revival. Kate Baldwin is lovely as Jen, and Conor Ryan does an excellent job as both Johns. All in all, this is a piece of work that should be seen.

That being said, I have to admit that I didn't much like it. I admired it tremendously, but I was never quite emotionally involved. I think this is due to the book, which I found problematical.

[here be spoilers]
The show begins with John sitting quietly. He seems to be a young adult. Jen says something along the lines of "can you forgive me?" Then we go back to their childhood, with Jen striving to protect John from their abusive father and promising to always be there for him. But when Jen goes off to college, she ignores John for years as she lives the '60s full out, and he ends up allied with their father. John joins the army, goes to Vietnam, dies.