Olney Theatre
revisits its glory days with an excellent production of Da (to 4/25) written by Hugh Leonard specifically
for this organization back when the hinterlands of Montgomery County, Maryland must have looked like the rolling fields of
Ireland. First developed in 1973 from a series of largely autobiographical sketches, the play was further refined over
the years and went on to win the New York Drama Desk and Tony Awards as best play, actor (Barnard Hughes as Da), and director
(Melvin Bernhardt) for 1978.
The story carries the strong and central narrative
voice of writer Charlie (James Whalen) who returns (circa 1968) to attend the funeral and conclude the affairs of his recently
deceased, adoptive father (Des Keogh). But has his Da departed? It turns out he's very much present either as a
supernatural entity or a projection of his son's imagination. And what follows is a series of flashbacks to earlier
formative episodes in Charlie's life, where the narrator interacts with the father, his mother (Brigid Cleary), his younger
self (Drew Kopas), and what could best be described as his Da's alter ego (superego, if you will), his erstwhile employer
and mentor Drumm (Ian LeValley).
At its heart, the play is a
rumination of the parental tapes that run endlessly in our lives. It is also a look at a variety of competing philosophies
of life offered by the personalities encountered in that primordial soup of childhood.
Director
Halo Wines has uncovered the cinematic sweet spot of this episodic memory play. The well-cast group of performers moves
fluidly and briskly through an engaging evening of theater which has a satisfying visual appeal - from the graceful choreography
and blocking, to the striking scenic design of Jon Savage and superb lighting of Charlie Morrison. It is a marvel to
see what they have done with the set, which casts a mighty footprint in the intimate setting of the Mulitz-Gudelsky Theatre
Lab, rising to the rafters. The sound design of Christopher Baine and costuming of Kathleen Geldard strongly aid in
establishing and sustaining the mood.
Da is a transitional work between the days when
the father was an Old Testament force to be reckoned with and a later figure of ridicule (the more frequently encountered
parental conflicts today tend toward mother-daughter relationships). This Da is a boyo - more a friend or mate out for
a good time - and is played to perfection by Des Keogh who has his nimble, sly, almost parenthetic quality - an intuitive
counterpuncher - down pat. If ever there were a reason to see a play for one character's performance, this is it.
As the family psychodramas are enacted, and guilt-trips pile up, Da is matched by the always excellent Brigid
Cleary who is the personification of the long-suffering Irish mother in 4-leaf clovers. Her character dines out regularly
with family and friends on the saintly role she's assumed for adopting a homeless waif. These two outsized
figures hover like prototypical helicopter parents guiding every step on Charlie's humble career path, except the one
he wants. Into the void steps the uncompromising Drumm, played with guile and precision by Ian McValley, who councils
the avoidance of commitment and the fine art of just saying NO. If there were a maxim to one's life his would be
"He who expects nothing, is never disappointed." (This nay-saying nabob - part authority figure, part spiritual
guide - is a meaty character that Leonard would explore in an earlier and later work.)
The
show's fluctuating scenes bring out some suggestive supporting characters into the fray. Though the parts are not
well developed, the versatile Julie-Ann Elliott, who never met a role she couldn't play, and the up-and-coming Rachel
Holt (who was a standout presence in Studio Theatre's The Receptionist), give it all they have as, respectively,
The Lady and the Vamp. James Whalen and Drew Kopas bear a strong family resemblance and both capture the frankly jaded
and frankly exuberant qualities their older or younger personas possess, along with a life-long naiveté.
And Nick DiPinto has those "getting on" qualities which "best friend" Oliver (not the sharpest blade in
the pack) must possess in order to survive.
Despite all the smile and bluster, beneath its
comic veneer lurks an alternative subtext, which Ms. Wines and the actors deftly explore - that of conformity, quasi-fascism,
and control. The three central adult figures around Charlie maintain the status quo or their vision of standards (codes
of conduct) as a means of exerting power. If you know your place and/or cling to it, there are a whole lot of
people who will help you stay there, including those who rule the roost. Shaw (who lived earlier in the same part of
town as Leonard), Joyce, and Beckett learned that lesson quickly and left. But Charlie, though long an exile, still
hasn't gotten the message. He will remain an orphan, an outsider, who wants to be accepted for who he is, endlessly
repeating those same tapes in his mind to find out how he got to where he did and what it was all about. He's
caught between two worlds. And the sadness here is that this lack closure will remain for him and all of us at the conclusion.
The play's energetic pacing, which gets around the troublesome predictability of the scenes
(almost mundane at times), comes at a price: you lose great pieces of dialogue. And the accents, to my ears anyway,
will cause you to lose more. But no more than, say, Shakespeare or any other "foreign" or vernacular writer
and it might get you to pay greater attention and perhaps read the script. And that's all for the best. For
this reviewer, the characters, direction, acting, and design carry the day.
Sound check: Very
good to excellent - low to mid-range sound levels
Program notes: Good with notes from artistic
director & managing director and comments from the playwright. Would have benefited from inclusion of director notes
and input from a dramaturg
Applause meter: Highly recommended, 3 ½ + hands
Runtime: About 2 hours and 15 minutes with an intermission
Photo credits:
Stan Barouh
© John F. Glass April 15, 2010 - All rights reserved
