Whenever you meet someone who can't stop reciting a litany of injustices which have befallen them, it's important to remember that they've fallen into an emotional rut. It's not that they couldn't get out of that rut with if they really wanted to. But if they stopped feeling sorry for themselves, what else would they have to fill their lives? If they were able to see the harm they did to themselves and others -- or the lies they had been fed by their family, their religion, and their favorite media -- they'd have to stop thinking of themselves as cripples and learn how to walk upright again.
Whether people's lives rest on a foundation of faith or science, greed or gratitude, addiction or sobriety, walking away from something that has ruled one's life for a very long time is extremely difficult. Old habits die hard (we've all known some truly bitter queens). My grandmother used to claim that if she had to be miserable, then the whole world should be miserable, too. But, while misery loves company, a sense of smugness derived from misery doesn't really accomplish much.
For some people, the need to always be right can turn someone into their own worst enemy. Think of how a petulant child pushes back against a babysitter, a parent, or some other authority figure. The child may scream, throw a tantrum, refuse to get up off the floor, or act out in any number of ways. But when the world sees a powerful dotard defiantly cross his arms in front of his chest, call people names, and sneer at anyone who doesn't suck up to him, it's hard to tell the President of the United States that he's going to have to go sit in the corner while wearing a dunce cap.
How does one pierce the defensive armor of people who refuse to come to terms with their emotional scars? Or loved ones who have pledged their allegiance and sworn obedience to an odious ideology? Two small Bay area theatre companies are currently challenging their audiences to examine these issues through a lens of humor aimed at neutering the tendency to embrace patterns of self-destructive behavior.
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When Neil Simon's prize-winning comedy, The Odd Couple (starring Art Carney and Walter Matthau), premiered on Broadway in 1965, its blazing success led to a film version (starring Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau) and a television series (starring Tony Randall and Jack Klugman) about two men who were totally mismatched as roommates. Lemmon and Matthau reunited in 1993 for a film entitled Grumpy Old Men, which was followed two years later by a sequel entitled Grumpier Old Men.Long before gender flipping a role became common on Broadway, Simon decided to make some revisions to the script of his play (which had quickly become a cash cow). On June 11, 1985, The Female Odd Couple made its Broadway debut with a cast headed by Rita Moreno and Sally Struthers with Tony Shalhoub and Lewis J. Stadlen appearing as the Costazuela brothers (in place of Carole Shelley and Monica Evans as the original Pigeon Sisters).
Simon's formula (make two curmudgeons share an apartment and see how long it takes for them to drive each other crazy) has inspired many other playwrights and screenwriters to dig for comedy gold. Up in El Cerrito, the Contra Costa Civic Theatre is currently presenting the Bay area premiere of David Lindsay-Abaire’s new comedy, Ripcord, which delivers plenty of laughs built on the tension between its two main characters.
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| Abby (Laurie Strawn) is an intelligent, but bitter retired schoolteacher with a deep, dark secret in Ripcord (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio) |
Abby (Laurie Strawn) is a real piece of work. A retired schoolteacher who prefers to spend time reading from her tablet device, she's the kind of cantankerous control freak who doesn't handle change well. Most likely an introvert, Abby is the kind of sourpuss who prefers order, discipline, privacy, and solitude. While she imagines herself to be an ideal resident at the Bristol Place Senior Living Facility, she has no idea that her icy demeanor and caustic tongue have made it impossible for management to match her up with a roommate who can tolerate Abby's withering scorn.
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| Marilyn (Sandi V. Weldon) is a senior citizen whose positive attitude has helped her get through life in Ripcord (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio) |
Much to her chagrin, Abby may have met her match with her new roommate. Marilyn (Sandi V. Weldon) is a widow who has decided to keep living life to its fullest during whatever time she has left on Earth.
- Although Abby's clothing tends toward bland colors that signal restraint, Marilyn likes bright patterns, lipstick, earrings, and a sense of flash.
- Whereas Abby prefers to sit on a bench alone and read while outside the building, Marilyn has no trouble making friends. She greatly enjoys her morning walks and dinner conversations with some of the other residents.
- Though Abby tends to treat the staff like employees at a hotel, Marilyn is eager to befriend anyone who crosses her path, including Scotty (Peter Bundinger), one of the room attendants who is an aspiring actor.
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| Laurie Strawn (Abby), Peter Bundinger (Scotty), and Sandi V. Weldon (Marilyn) in a scene from Ripcord (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio) |
Given her druthers, Abby would much prefer to have Marilyn move down to the first floor and take over the bed vacated by a resident who just died. But Marilyn has no intention of moving. She likes the sunlight that floods their apartment in the morning and, in a surprising turn of events, even likes Abby.
It's inevitable for a confrontation to erupt and, when Abby's plans to get Marilyn evicted from her apartment are thwarted, the two women make a bet. If Abby can get Marilyn angry, Marilyn will agree to move downstairs. However, if Marilyn can get Abby scared, they will have to trade beds so that Marilyn can have the bed closest to the window.
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| Abby (Laurie Strawn) and Marilyn (Sandi V. Weldon) are contentious roommates in an assisted care living facility in Ripcord (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio) |
Convinced that she can outsmart her garish, outgoing, and optimistic roommate, Abby agrees to the deal without realizing that (a) Marilyn is an extremely competitive person who never backs down from a challenge, and (b) Marilyn's daughter, Colleen (Kim Donovan), and son-in law, Derek (DC Scarpelli), run a skydiving business and are used to helping Marilyn with a long history of practical jokes.
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| Marilyn's son-in-law, Derek (DC Scarpelli) takes Abby (Laurie Strawn) skydiving in a scene from Ripcord (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio) |
Working on Brian Watson's handsome set (with costumes by Lisa Danz, lighting by Courtney Johnson, and sound design by Michael Kelly), Daren AC Carollo has directed the production with a keen eye toward milking the tension between the two women for all its potential.
While Peter Bundinger is an extremely affable presence as Scotty, David Bogdonoff has a poignant scene as Abby's estranged son, Benjamin (who has struggled with various addictions throughout his adult life). How and why Benjamin is drawn into the turf war between Abby and Marilyn is one of many surprising turns in Lindsay-Abaire’s comedy. As Carollo notes:
"We all know the people in this play. Or maybe we've been the people in this play. Or maybe both. We've all known folks whose wounds have closed them off to the rest of humanity, just as we all know folks who remain joyous and warm, embracing life despite those wounds. This is a play about both kinds of survivors coming to terms with one another in the midst of the chaos and insanity of their lives and loved ones."
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| Benjamin (David Bogdonoff) is the mystery guest who appears in Ripcord (Photo by: Ben Krantz Studio) |
Laurie Strawn and Sandi V. Weldon are well-paired as the two feisty roommates who still stop at absolutely nothing to get what they want. Performances of Ripcord continue through December 9 at the Contra Costa Civic Theatre (click here for tickets).
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Over at the Potrero Stage, Golden Thread Productions is presenting the world premiere of a provocative new play by Mona Mansour. Directed by Evren Odcikin, a great deal of We Swim, We Talk, We Go To War takes place while a woman (Sarah Nina Hayon) and her nephew (Joshua Chessin-Yudin) are swimming in the waters off San Diego's beaches. The undertow which carries them away from shore is both real and metaphorical.The young man is a gung-ho member of the United States military who is proud of all the money that has been spent on his training so that he can learn how to pilot a fighter jet and kill enemies he has never known. A generation older than him, his Lebanese-American aunt is shocked by her nephew's statement that killing people means nothing to him (as well as his lack of political awareness about the fact that, on certain missions, he may be killing their relatives in the Middle East).
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| Joshua Chessin-Yudin and Sarah Nina Hayon in a scene from We Swim, We Talk, We Go To War (Photo by: David Allen) |
As the Founding Artistic Director of Golden Thread Productions, Torange Yeghiarzarian explains that:
"This play resonates deeply on a very personal level. I have two young cousins in the U. S. military. Both are the sweetest, kindest, most generous-hearted people I know. Every time I see their picture in uniform, it breaks my heart. Partly because I worry for their safety, but mostly because of what they represent in my mind: American foreign policy (which I find deeply problematic) and, in particular, the U.S. military presence in the Middle East for the past 30 years which, in my mind, has been disastrous for the region."
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| Joshua Chessin-Yudin, Sarah Nina Hayon, Tre'Vonne Bell and Adam El-Sharkawi in a scene from We Swim, We Talk, We Go To War (Photo by: David Allen) |
"What happens is that I look at someone I love and all I see is the politics they seemingly endorse by the choices they've made. I am unable to discuss my true feeling on this subject with them. When I first read Mona's proposal for Middle East America: A National New Play Initiative, I immediately thought about my cousins. Maybe if we watch this play together, I would be able to talk about my feelings, I thought. And as the play has evolved over the past four years, I have come to love and appreciate Mona's extraordinary talent even more, in that she has created a play that, through a deeply personal conversation. examines some of our most deeply held values."As she tries to balance the liberal and conservative arguments between the aunt and her nephew, Mansour allows her characters to step out of the action and speak directly to the audience (since it's possible that these two are stepping out of the Pacific Ocean, I'll refrain from making any reference to "breaking the fourth wall").
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| Joshua Chessin-Yudin, Sarah Nina Hayon, and Adam El-Sharkawi in a scene from We Swim, We Talk, We Go To War (Photo by: David Allen) |
Two other men complete the cast. One is an Arab (Adam El-Sharkawi), who has a fairly good idea that his character is doomed to a violent death. The other is an African-American soldier (Tre'Vonne Bell) who may be a stronger swimmer, but could not have come up through the ranks with the speed and ease granted to the nephew (who is a commissioned officer). As a result, he's much less impressed by the nephew's rosy outlook on being deployed to Afghanistan because, to date, the nephew has not really had any skin in the game.
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| Tre'Vonne Bell, Joshua Chessin-Yudin and Sarah Nina Hayon in a scene from We Swim, We Talk, We Go To War (Photo by: David Allen) |
Working on a bare-bones unit set designed by Kate Boyd and enhanced by Mona Kasra's projections, Odcikin has done an impressive job of shaping three major conversations between the aunt and nephew starting from soon after the nephew joins the military to approximately a week before he is to be deployed overseas. With help from movement specialist Slater Penney, the scenes in the water have been staged using two mobile office stools which can help free up the characters' movement in any direction as the two leads try to swim, perform a dead man's float, and struggle with the fear that they may have drifted too far from the shore.
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| Joshua Chessin-Yudin and Sarah Nina Hayon in a scene from We Swim, We Talk, We Go To War (Photo by: David Allen) |
The simulated drifting offers a brilliant technique for showing how people's views can change depending on how deep the water is beneath them. Political rigidity yields to the seductively fluid power of the ocean while helping to bring the conversation down to a more human (and less abstract) level.
Performances of We Swim, We Talk, We Go To War continue through December 16 at the Potrero Stage (click here for tickets).
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