Fighting Tommy Riley
By Robert Koehler
A Visualeyes Prods.
presentation in association with Jellyworks, LLC.
(International sales: Turtles Crossing, Los Angeles.)
Produced by Bettina Tendler O'Mara. Executive producers,
Diana Deryez Kessler, Paul Kessler. Co-producers, Randy
Turrow, Diana Deryez Kessler, Wayne Witherspoon.
Directed by Eddie O'Flaherty. Screenplay, J.P. Davis.
Marty Goldberg - Eddie Jones Tommy Riley - J.P. Davis
Stephanie - Christina Chambers Diane Stone - Diane M.
Tayler Bob Silver - Paul Raci Kane - Don Wallace
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In "Fighting Tommy Riley," the winner by a
knockout is Eddie Jones. The vet thesp, regularly
seen in colorful supporting roles, flexes his
considerable muscles as an aging trainer helping revive
the career of a boxer who has lost faith in himself.
Without Jones, pic is a standard drama on the sweet
science with the usual tropes and a slight tweak on the
usual conflicts. With Jones, matchups with fests and
distribs are possible, while the cable arena is a sure
thing.
Tommy (screenwriter
J.P. Davis), all pumped up for his match, mentally
flashes back seven months to the time he and g.f.
Stephanie (Christina Chambers) broke up and when he was
berated in a boxing gym for being too aggressive. But
his low point was witnessed by boxing manager Diane
Stone (Diane M. Tayler) and her partner-trainer Marty
(Jones), who liked what he saw in the kid. At first,
Marty appears to be the stock figure typical in boxing
movies, the older, wiser man who sees greatness where
others see a loser. Marty starts by testing Tommy in a
gym match against a tough sparring partner, while
reminding the short-fused boxer that he needs a bit of
anger management.
In the heart-to-heart scenes
between Marty and Tommy -- so obligatory in the genre
and so often phoned in by actors -- Jones personally
pushes the movie to a higher emotional plane. An actor
who tends not to just inhabit his roles but move right
in and take over the mortgage, Jones appears to
understand Marty's empathy for Tommy at a gut level.
Jones' Marty is several divisions and degrees away from
Burgess Meredith's needling codger in "Rocky," and smart
enough to spot Tommy's habit of faking injuries.
Director Eddie O'Flaherty demonstrates
a flair for widescreen framing, but keeps to a routine
moviemaking style (d.p. Michael Fimognari's vid-lensed
image was undercut by vid projection at the Los Angeles
fest premiere, though a film transfer is promised).
Montages of Tommy's fresh string of victories alternate
with private dramas between him and Marty, and then
Stephanie, who returns to the picture a little too
easily.
A retreat to the woods for training
before a title bout raises the stakes, even as Tommy
gets pressure from powerful, smooth-tongued fight
promoter Bob Silver (Paul Raci) to sign with him and
leave Marty. The old trainer has his own secrets and
desires, which Jones manages to keep so well hidden that
when they burst forth, it has the shock of a jolting
scene in an Arthur Miller play. The film doesn't end in
Milleresque tragedy, though, but with a grown-up sense
of loss.
Davis seems initially too good-looking
to take seriously, but he grows into a role he wrote for
himself, and Tayler does a pro job of playing
counterpoint to whatever Marty has to say. Though it
always feels too staged when the action's outside the
ring, pic has a sweaty background feel that's impressive
for an indie production, and fight scenes play like the
real deal. Print screened contained wall-to-wall temp
tracks from some of Thomas Newman's and Hans Zimmer's
better, moodier scores.
Camera (color,
Panavision widescreen, DV), Michael Fimognari; editor,
Aram Nigoghossian; production designer, Marla Altschuler;
art director, Joe Pew; set decorator, Marsha Daniels;
costume designer, Corenna Gibson; makeup, Hella Hazz;
sound, Eric Rodriguez; supervising sound editor, Joe
Dzuban; associate producer, Don "Kip" Bickel; assistant
director, Bernhard Spoon. July 7, 2004. Reviewed at Los
Angeles Film Festival, June 20, 2004. Copyright � 2004
Reed Business Information. |
Fighting Tommy Riley By Kevin Thomas
Times Staff Writer
Every once in a while a veteran character actor, after a solid
career in films, theater and television, lands a starring role in a
movie that is actually worthy of his talent. With "Fighting Tommy
Riley" it has happened to Eddie Jones, and he brings the experience
of a lifetime in acting to making his character, Marty Goldberg,
unforgettable.
Marty has pretty much given up the
battle of his own bulge, and the portly, white-haired high school
teacher has learned to expect that quotes from Melville, although
spoken by him with the utmost eloquence and understanding, are going
to be lost on his students. Not in the best of health, he is a
solitary man on the threshold of a lonely old age, living in a
book-filled home with his beloved pug. Marty, however, once had
another life, as a promising boxer and later as a trainer. The one
person who seems to care for him is a forceful young woman, Diane
(Diane M. Tayler), a boxing promoter who considers Marty her partner
because he steered her away from a path of self-destruction. Diane
has come across a moody, insecure young fighter named Tommy Riley
(J.P. Davis, who also wrote the film's exceptional script) in whom
she sees potential, and she persuades Marty to become his trainer.
It takes a while for the introverted Tommy to begin to trust Marty,
but once he does he begins to come alive outside the ring as well as
inside it. By the same token it is clear that Marty is in better
spirits than he has been in a very long time, and the month the two
men intend to spend at Marty's mountain cabin, where they will
prepare for Tommy's big match, looks to be an especially happy
period for both of them.
Both Davis' script and Eddie O'Flaherty's direction match Jones'
performance in subtlety. From the first moment Marty appears there
seems to be a shadow hovering over him, and there are signs of an
ingrained, unshakable sadness in him. It's not surprising that in
time Marty should feel love for Tommy or that the boxer begin to
regard Marty as a father figure. There comes a moment of realization
when the nature of Marty's feelings becomes clear, and there is at
this point a shift in focus, from the consideration of the complex
interplay of secrecy and repression within Marty to the
contradictory feelings that sweep over the deeply loyal Tommy. The
boxing sequences in "Fighting Tommy Riley" are intense and
convincing, but as with "Million Dollar Baby" it's what happens
outside the ring that lingers in the heart.
In watching Jones become Marty it's easy to see how Jones won prizes
for his portrayal of Willie Loman in "Death of a Salesman" on stage.
Jones knows how to reach so deep inside himself and is in such
command of his acting skills that Marty's every gesture, look and
movement is expressive and revealing � even when it means to be
concealing.
Davis' Tommy is no less fully realized, and Tayler's Diane
is also well drawn. Christina Chambers is effective as Tommy's
uncomplicated girlfriend, who does not always understand him, which
figures because he's often struggling to understand himself. This
small, lovingly crafted film continually surprises with its depth
and resonance. 'Fighting Tommy Riley' MPAA rating: R for language,
some sexual content Times guidelines: Adult themes and situations
Eddie Jones...Marty Goldberg J.P. Davis...Tommy Riley Diane M.
Tayler...Diane Stone Christina Chambers...Stephanie Bob
Silver...Paul Raci A Freestyle Releasing and Visualeyes Productions
release. Producer-director Eddie O'Flaherty. Producer Bettina
Tendler O'Mara. Executive producers Diana Derycz Kessler and Paul
Kessler. Screenplay by J.P. Davis. Cinematographer Michael Fimognari.
Editor Aram Nigoghossian. Production designer Marla Altschuler. Art
director Joe Pew. Set decorator Marsha Daniels. Running time: 1
hour, 49 minutes. Exclusively at the Regent, 614 No. La Brea Ave.,
L.A., (323) 934-2944. Copyright 2005 Los Angeles Times.
|
Fighting Tommy Riley
By Brian Brooks
Hamptons
International Film Festival feature "Fighting Tommy Riley" from
newcomer Eddie O'Flaherty and J.P. Davis has been acquired by the
recently formed Santa Monica distributor Freestyle Releasing, the
company announced over the weekend.
The film, which received the
Kodak Award for Cinematography at the festival, stars J.P. Davis,
who also wrote the screenplay, and actor Eddie Jones, as a boxing
team who must deal with their own personal demons as they struggle
to establish themselves on the fighting circuit.
Susan Jackson, CEO and president of acquisitions at
Freestyle negotiated the deal with Bettina Tendler O' Mara on behalf
of Visualeyes Productions and Jellyworks. Freestyle will handle
North American theatrical distribution, and will release the film in
the second quarter of 2005. Based on Davis' screenplay, the film was
financed and produced by O'Mara's Visualeyes Productions and
Jellyworks, and had its world premiere at the IFP Los Angeles Film
Festival back in June. It screened in competition this weekend in
The Hamptons and CURB Entertainment is handling international sales.
"Eddie O'Flaherty and J.P. Davis have delivered a knock-out feature
film debut of fierce intensity with beautifully realized characters,
exceptionally acted by all, with veteran character actor Eddie Jones
giving a powerful star turning performance which is the tragic
center of the film," commented Freestyle Releasing exec Susan
Jackson in a statement."
The fight scenes are spectacular in their reality and the film is a
great combination of character, action and story." Freestyle
Releasing was formed by Susan Jackson, formerly of Turtles Crossing,
Mark Borde from Innovation Film Group, and Mike Doban from Arcangelo
Entertainment. Their first release is James Redford's "Spin."
|
Fighting Tommy Riley
What We Saw At The Hamptons
International Film Festival
A unique
look into the life and relationship between a budding professional
boxer who "almost" made the Olympic Team a few years earlier (played
by JP Davis who also wrote the screenplay) and his trainer played by
Eddie Jones. Director Eddie O'Flaherty takes the audience through
the highs and lows of these two characters and their struggle to
deal with their tortured souls, through the story of a struggling
young boxer who doesn't believe in himself and a worn down trainer
who convinces him that he's got the talent and skill to win.
The dynamic performances and chemistry between
the two actors is remarkable. Veteran actor Eddie Jones grabs your
heart and challenges our place in society.
The boxing scenes are authentically recreated. You will leave
the theater believing that dreams do come true and true friendships
are forever. With other notable performances by Christina Chambers,
Diane M. Tayler, Paul Racci and Don Wallace. �KK
|
Death of a Salesman
By Dany Margolies
November 08, 2006
This
Arthur Miller classic is relatively foolproof. It's a magic carpet
on which skilled actors can lift audiences to dizzying heights, an
enchanted lantern that lights long-darkened corners of our emotions.
But those who know the script, who have seen the greats perform the
paradigmatic roles, who are familiar with realism and memory plays
and clever amalgams of both, may be disappointed in the staging
here�no reflection on the uniformly superb cast, from principals
through bit players.
Eddie Jones is Willie Loman, acing this mettle-testing iconic part,
wearing with equal parts dignity and shame the heavy mantle of
sadness and fear and irritability.
As Linda, Anne Gee Byrd takes Willie's guff squarely on the chin,
letting us feel the punch instead; Byrd is motherly and worn, but we
can see glimpses of the girl Willie married, and it makes his
transgressions even more pathetic. Aaron McPherson gives Happy more
dimension than is usually seen, his reactions and presence
intensifying every family interaction. Ivan Baccarat's glorious
voice lets us hear Biff's many ages and moods.
Jill Jacobson's The Woman is surprisingly and delightfully
nonvillainous. As Charley, Alan Charof is an acting lesson of his
own, fully immersed in onstage action. Robert Machray is snobby yet
sepulchral as Uncle Ben. Director Bob Collins gets high marks for
his casting (with Coleen Kalbacher). But although each actor is
first-rate, they seem not to have jelled together. They don't occupy
a cohesive world�taking into consideration that some characters are
clearly more of Willie's memory than others. Is the whole a memory
play in Collins' vision? Only if so, then the walls that some
characters see through while others don't are slightly less
troubling. Gelareh Khalioun's costumes seem to borrow from various
periods; again, it works if the play is strictly memory, except that
Biff's present-day style distracts from the character's period
morality. And we can hear the actors gathering backstage for their
curtain calls while Linda is speaking over Willie's grave. Attention
must be paid.
|
Death of a Salesman
By Kelly Monaghan
Arthur
Miller's Death of a Salesman enjoys iconic status in the American
theatrical canon and justly so. However, in an odd way, its success
has worked against it. Revivals tend to attract mega-stars to the
role of Willie Loman and the productions built around them tend to
strive for operatic grandeur. The result is often less than
successful, as perfectly illustrated by recent productions starring
Dustin Hoffman and Brian Dennehy. The Willies we get in these
bloated, star-driven vehicles are intriguingly idiosyncratic
(Hoffman) or downright bathetic (Dennehy), but the play inevitably
suffers.
Now Los Angeles' estimable Odyssey Theatre is presenting a
human-scale reading of the play that allows it to speak with the
quiet power that I think Miller intended. The Odyssey production,
under the unobtrusive direction of Bob Collins, allows veteran
character actor Eddie Jones to turn in a masterful performance that
is quite literally heart-wrenching. I have never seen Miller's
merciless deconstruction of the American myth of success rendered
more powerfully or more simply. I confess that I am unfamiliar with
Jones' work, but if this isn't the greatest performance of his
career then I feel cheated from having missed him in earlier roles.
Linda Loman, Willie's long-suffering wife, is often portrayed as a
beaten-down woman in performances that are muted to avoid drawing
attention from the star. Anne Gee Byrd is something a revelation,
giving us a Linda Loman who lives up to Biff's description of her as
a "woman with substance." She is quite simply superb, every inch
Jones' equal and, through her love and loyalty, we are able to see
the Willie that was in the sad, beaten man who is. Ivan Baccarat
(Biff) and Aaron McPherson (Happy) as the Loman's flawed sons do a
good job of making concrete the fatal flaws in the world view Willie
wants so desperately to pass on to them. Baccarat works especially
well with Jones. The scene late in the play in which Biff sees
Willie at his most-human and most-pathetic is embarrassing to watch,
which is just as it should be. Miller, unlike most other
playwrights, has the gift of creating small roles that allow good
actors to score indelible impressions with a few scant moments of
stage time. The supporting performers in this production seize the
opportunity. Robert Machray (Uncle Ben), Alan Charof (Charley),
Jeremy Shouldis (Bernard), and Lou Volpe (Stanley, the waiter) are
all excellent. And Jill Jacobson (The Woman) makes Willie's cruel
betrayal of Linda perfectly understandable.
|
Death of a Salesman
By T.S Kerrrigan
American Reporter Theater Critic
May 8,
2002
Los
Angeles -- Arthur Miller's American masterpiece, a penetrating
examination of both what Samuel Johnson called "The Vanity of Human
Wishes" and what Francois Mauriac called "The Desert of Love," is
currently r eceiving
a monumental production at the Interact in North Hollywood under the
inspired direction of Anita Khanzadian. It can be said without
hyperbole that it is one of the best interpretations of this play
that local audiences are likely to see.
Certainly, Eddie Jones is the equal or superior of anyone this
reviewer has seen in the
role of Willie Loman, and that includes Frederic March (from the
film), Lee J. Cobb and Dustin Hoffman (on television), and more
recently Brian Denehy (who Vincent Canby correctly observed was
probably miscast in the role). Jones gives a powerful and complex
portrait of a decent man whose life and career have reached rock
bottom in a world of false values. He gives the full range of
Willie's bluster, anger, weakness and frustration in a manner that
is always convincing. The
contradictions of the character, that have been known to trouble
lesser actors, are dealt with credibly. One cannot readily imagine a
more consummate performance.
Other
standouts in this production include Thomas Vincent Kelly as the
shallow Happy, James Gleason as the pragmatic Charley, the opposite
of Willie in personality and philosophy who nonetheless gives him
the proper epitaph as a man "way out there in the blue, riding on a
smile and a shoeshine." Marilyn McIntyre gives us a different Linda
than we have seen before. The faithful wife of Willie, she has an
ageless quality here. The choices McIntyre makes are never obvious
and essentially effective. In the "attention must be paid" speech
she is completely compelling.
Most of
the smaller roles are also well realized. Kelly Connell makes a
perfect Howard Wagner, Willie's insensitive young boss. Steven Hack
is fine as Bernard, and Bob Larkin fine as Uncle Ben. Don Fischer
seems a little out of his element as Biff in the beginning, but
comes on stronger in the end.
Thomas
Buderwitz's rather bare set is realistic, especially the period
refrigerator which Willie rails against. J. Kent Inasy's lighting is
evocative of the time and mood of the piece, and a definite
improvement over the gloomy darkness seen at the Ahmanson. Paul
Cuneo's original music is also complimentary.
This is
the kind of treatment that Miller's greatest play deserves. It
should under no circumstance be missed by anyone with an interest in
American theater.
|
Death of a Salesman
By T.H. McCulloh
Showmag.com
When Noel coward went to see the original
production of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, producer
Irene Selznick told him it wasn't a play, it was an experience.
Afterward, Coward said to her, "Oh, I wish it had been a play." It
still has problems, even though it has become something of a
classic, but none of the dramaturgical problems can be corrected
until Miller's copyright runs out. Face it, many people today think
Shakespeare's plays have problems, so Miller's in good company.
One of the problems is the central role,
fading salesman Willie Loman. It's one of those roles, like Richard
III and King Lear, that tricks most actors to a size larger than
life and twice as noisy. The original Willie, Lee J. Cobb, blustered
and trumpeted Willie, waved his arms like a windmill and acted it
all over the stage without shame. Brian Dennehy's Willie of a couple
of years ago was a good match for Cobb. On the other hand, one of
Cobb's Broadway replacements, Thomas Mitchell, a much more
technically trained actor, was much deeper and richer, had a great
deal more subtext and was thankfully interior and therefore more
powerful. Like Lear and other similar tragic monuments, Willie is
more effective when the great drama is inside him and not spilling
into the orchestra.
That's the advantage Eddie Jones has as
Willie in this fine production at Interact Theatre in North
Hollywood. His tone and sense of detail is closer to Mitchell, while
still an individual portrait that is painted in rich chiaroscuro,
toned with subtlety and very touching. When Jones does become bigger
than life, there's a valid reason for it other than bowling over the
viewer. His Willie shines with a light deep within Jones'
conception.
On Thomas Buderwitz's simple but very
effective and utilitarian setting, and lit with a fine sense of mood
and shading by J. Kent Inasy, the play is directed by Anita
Khanzadian flawlessly and with a sure connection to Miller's intent.
Marilyn McIntyre's Linda, looking a bit younger for the role, is
nonetheless a rich evocation of a woman living without restraint,
living for her man and her boys, solid in her belief in Willie's
value and desperately concerned for his welfare. It's an enriching
picture of those women who seem to live for home and family but are
strong enough to battle her closest for her husband's survival.
Almost as difficult as Willie are the
characters of his sons, 34-year-old Biff, who's a failure as a man,
as he was a phony success as a teenage sports hero, and younger son
Happy, a sleazy, self-absorbed boob without much concern for his
father's problem as long as he gets laid regularly. Don Fischer is
ultimately touching as Biff as his actual relationship with Willie
unfolds and his own image of self-worth proves pointless. As Happy,
Thomas Vincent Kelly thankfully provides enough likable qualities to
make Happy's sleaze at least acceptable until it overpowers his own
relationship with Willie. The best of Willie's sons to be seen in a
long time.
As successful neighbors Charley and his very
bright son Bernard, a nerd who shines as he leaves his best friend
Biff wallowing in a lack of direction, James Gleason and Steven Hack
are excellent, contained and sure as they should be. Bob Larkin is
interesting as Willie's memory of his older brother Ben, but Ben is
extra baggage which some future director will surely delete, as is
the Boston woman Biff discovers Willie is cavorting with, played
here with fine style and some fire by Amanda Carlin. The whole
company shines in this staging, and special mention should be made
of Andrew Leman's waiter Stanley, a microscopic portrait that
sparkles with humor and honesty.
|
A Letter to Eddie
Dear Eddie and Anita,
As I've been reading the obituaries/articles of Arthur
Miller with their in-depth discussions of "Death of a
Salesman," I've been reliving the astonishing production
you brought us. Both in the Interactivity reading and
the full production, we in the audience were knocked
dumb. Yes, it's an extremely powerful play as written,
absolutely brilliant, one of the greatest ever written.
But your staging and interpretation worked special
magic. Being in such close physical proximity certainly
gave it extra power - no safe distance from which to
view; we were eavesdroppers and couldn't escape. By the
end we were holding our breaths, anticipating the
inevitable but still holding out hope for this
misguided, rudderless man. Anita, you found all of the
nooks and crannies, guiding us through it artfully:
clean, spare and poignant, your direction allowed the
enormity of the story to unfold without clutter: with
clarity and power, beautifully calibrated. We knew we
were in good hands from the get-go.
Eddie, I shall never
forget your accomplishment as Willie Loman. You ripped my
heart out, but you did it honestly. You met the man and
the two of you became one. You belong in the pantheon,
next to Lee J. Cobb and the others whom they trumpet in
the articles. At the end, gripping your packet of seeds,
lost and desperate, I wanted to run up on the stage and
save you from yourself. This is no mean accomplishment
as we had seen the Willie who was also capable of
less-than-honorable behavior. Your vulnerability
combined with the last breath of determinism, talking
yourself into believing in what had defined your life
even as it is slipping away... the scene in the office
with Jimmy Gleason, as you are grasping for a shred of
dignity, was so alive and true and painful it was
difficult to watch - and all the rest; how specific and
fully-realized the psychology of this man was in the
moment-to-painful-moment unraveling... to say your
performance was memorable is putting it mildly. I love
you both and thank you for giving me this experience.
|
The Dreamer Examines His Pillow
By Dany Margolies
Sept 12, 2007
Backstage.com
When actor Amanda Tepe heads downstairs and into the
first scene, playing opposite Jeffrey Stubblefield
in John Patrick Shanley's examination of
self-examination, it may be your reaction to think,
"Wow, she looks like someone else I've seen on
stage. But who?" The question lingers gently, even
as she and Stubblefield skillfully play Donna and
Tommy, a couple at a spider's web of emotional
crossroads. Perhaps all is a dream? Smarter minds
can better interpret the puzzling script. Donna is,
as the play describes, a tough girl, and Tepe plays
her as a caged panther. Tommy is the consummate
burgeoning artist, whom Stubblefield makes slightly
self-absorbed, slightly oblivious. Stubblefield is
reactive to Tepe's hot-wire volatility; she will not
let him off any hooks.
And then comes
the scene shared by Tepe and Eddie Jones as her dad.
And now we know who she reminds us of. She is a
feminine version of Jones, bearing his square jaw,
pertly upturned nose, and gimlet-gaze eyes. That
director Anita Khanzadian, she's a smart cookie for
casting Tepe against Jones, because the family
resemblance propels our readiness to believe we're
watching a father and daughter. The actors then earn
the rest of our attention by their exquisite
interpretation of that relationship. Khanzadian
seems willing to allow a different Donna to emerge
when with Dad: This one is warmer, subtly softer,
always hoping for his adoration even as she begs him
to help her win Tommy's. Her words are harsh, but
this Donna loves her daddy. Playing the once-wayward
father, Jones doesn't merely "listen" to Donna as
would so many actors as Dad; instead, he may be
occasionally tuning her out, watching the child he
may have so long ignored, perhaps thrilled she's
come for advice, possibly relieved enough to finally
share his own examinations of his own pillow.
It's an honor to watch Jones at work. Victoria
Profitt's set design enhances the play's many art
metaphors: Tommy's hovel is rendered in charcoals,
Dad's in sanguine. But it's the well-shaded set of
performances that keeps us marveling. Presented by
Deep Breath and a Leap Productions and Interact
Theatre Company at the McCadden Place Theatre, 1157
N. McCadden Pl., Hollywood. Thu.-Sat. 8 p.m., Sun. 2
p.m. Sep. 7-Oct. 14. (818) 765-8732
www.plays411.com/dreamer.
|
The Dreamer Examines His Pillow
By Laura Hitchcock
Don't read the newspapers. Be the news.� Tommy I'd
rather predict the weather three months in advance,
my sweet girl, than try to tell you one thing about
the future of the dullest heart. Dad
- "I made a
decision that in the first half of my playwriting
life, I would write about my problems as a man. In
the second half, I would turn towards society," John
Patrick Shanley told me in a 2005 interview. This
play, written in 1985, addresses the bewildering
passions of a very young couple. As usual, Shanley
makes magic with language. He juggles metaphors like
balls in the air, but each word is sharply chosen.
If some of the monologues seem to have too many
metaphors, that, too, is part of the excessiveness
of a young couple's quest and an artists's
self-protective fury. The play opens in the basement
apartment of Tommy (Jeffrey Stubblefield) who is
visited by Donna (Amanda Tepe), the girlfriend he's
jilted and whose teen-age sister he's "porking" (a
synonym for sex that's new to me. )Tommy and Donna
still love each other passionately but helplessly
because their fear and rage have brought them to a
stalemate.
A self-portrait
Tommy has nailed to his wall sends Donna on a visit
to her Dad (Eddie Jones), a painter for whom she's
had a lifelong animosity because of his treatment of
her late mother. She's afraid she's repeating her
mother's pattern, that she "could be in the middle
of somebody else's life." She learns her mother was
the love of Dad's life and, because of the intensity
of that passion, he had to create an outside space
where he could work. "Otherwise, she woulda taken me
over all the way," he confesses miserably. "I hid
part a me from her to save somethin' cause I was
scared." Now, he concludes, "what I saved wasn't
worth a god damn thing." Donna persuades Dad to talk
to Tommy and the final confrontation is summarized
by Dad's answer to Donna's question. "You went for
guys like me and him cause that's what you like an
who you are. And what you hate and makes you crazy
is that it's a mirror and what the mirror tells
you." It takes a mesmerizing cast to convincingly
capture this fascinating blend of philosophy and
aphorism below shouting level. Eddie Jones conveys a
cherubic slyness that conveys a decadent
consolation.
Amanda Tepe begins with a mannered tough girl
swagger that distracts from the genuine pain and
rage she mines from her character but by the second
act, playing against Jones with whom she has a
bonding charisma, the chip falls off her shoulder.
Jeffrey Stubblefield projects Tommy's fear and
passion with intense credibility. Director Anita
Khanzadian keeps the tension high and subtle.
Production values are first rate. Victoria Profitt's
set has a painted floor and shaded walls which gain
texture through Carol Doehring's exquisite lighting
design. Steve Hull's sound design compositions
alternate from drums to a grumbling score that seems
to come, in Shanley's words, "from the place under
that place, where men and women can meet and talk,
if you know what I mean. And it's way down. And it's
dark. And it's old as the motherfuckin' stars.
|
The Dreamer Examines His Pillow
What do you get if you cross an Italian and an
Irishman? If you are lucky you get the playwright
John Patrick Shanley. Shanley is a writer of great
consequence, eloquence, and a searching passion who
makes the observer examine his or her reason for
living, He doesn't let you off of the search for
answers for a minute. For Shanley, the essential
struggle to discover and moreover, accept who you
are is uppermost. I am sad to say that my only
exposure to Shanley was seeing his romantic comedies
ITALIAN AMERICAN RECONCILIATION, the Academy
Award-winning movie MOONSTRUCK, and his recent play
DOUBT in which he wonders how we can ever be sure of
anything. In his early play THE DREAMER EXAMINES HIS
PILLOW he has the Dad say "the individual life is a
dream" and he cautions his daughter to really listen
to someone when they talk, even if what they say
doesn't make sense, because they are revealing the
dream of his life as he experiences it. Critics have
struggled to understand the "meaning" of this
marvelous play with its expressionistic surreal
monologues. I think that really misses the point.
The play, the monologues, the passionate exchanges
are what the play is about. All the characters in
this play speak from their guts at all times. What a
challenge for the director and the actors who may
not be used to this kind of honesty or passionate
examination of the themes of love, sex, parenting
and how these are intricately intertwined. The
current production of THE DREAMER EXAMINES HIS
PILLOW is a triumph.
Bravo to the
director Anita Khanzadian and her amazing actors,
her husband the veteran Eddie Jones, the incredible
and unstoppable Amanda Tepe, and the clueless
dreamer played by Jeffrey Stubblefield. They
surrendered themselves to this material and the
result is an exciting, literate (without being
intellectual) and wonderfully satisfying evening of
theatre. I felt like I was back in ancient Greece
where the purpose of their plays was to put on the
stage stories, passions, and moral complexities for
all to see from the relative safety of their seats.
The design team of the talented Victoria Profitt
(sets), Steve Hull (sound design and composer) and
Gelareh Khalioun (costumes) create a perfect world
for the play. Proffit's sets evoke the
expressionistic, often messy landscape of modern
art. Hull's compositions are almost primitive in
their sound with rhythmic drumbeats (heart beats or
jungle drums) punctuating given moments. Khalioun's
costumes provide a stark palette for the play of
black, white. and red. In his author's note Shanley
states: in the third scene of this play, Dad Says,
"the individual life is a dream. For me personally
this is a most moving idea. It frees me from my fear
of death. It puts my ego where it belongs, in a
place of secondary importance. It binds me to the
human race, and binds the race itself to the atoms
in the stars, - This I think says it all. McCADDEN
PLACE THEATRE � 1157 McCadden Place in Hollywood.
Through Oct. 14th 818 765 8732.
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Beggars in the House of Plenty
By Joel Hirschhorn
Unlike his Pulitzer Prize-winning "Doubt" and his
Oscar-winning "Moonstruck," playwright John Patrick
Shanley's "Beggars" doesn't have clean, linear
clarity. It comes at you in non sequiturs, mixes
screwball comedy with grim drama, and shifts between
reality and illusion. The ingredients don't always
work, especially some heavy-handed climactic
confrontations. When they do, it's because of
Shanley's original, zany wit, an exceptionally fine
portrayal by Johnny Clark and excellent acting all
around. Clark is 5-year-old Johnny as the story
starts, son of cold Noreen (Annie Abbott) and cruel
Pop (Eddie Jones), a butcher who relishes working in
a slaughterhouse and arrives onstage in a
blood-soaked apron. The apron signals Pop's violent
tendencies, and when Johnny's older brother Joey
(Jeffrey Stubblefield) returns home from Vietnam,
Pop excoriates him for not completing high school,
emphasizing that he regards Joey's dropout status as
a heinous, inexcusable crime. Johnny's sister Sheila
(Kimberly-Rose Wolter) is about to be married,
waving aside warnings from relative and nun Sister
Mary Kate (Amanda Carlin) that marrying a Polish
Catholic can only bring grief. Wolter is appealing
as she ecstatically contemplates her wedding ("I'm
the center of everything!"), and Carlin's boisterous
delivery makes the most of funny lines.
Director Anita Khanzadian succeeds in extracting
character nuances from this portion of the story,
but the plot dawdles, leaving spectators unsure of
what the play is about and where it's going.
Everything kicks in when Johnny (now a teenager) and
Joey have a scene that exposes every facet of their
troubled relationship. Johnny admits he can't stop
lying, setting fires and smashing windows, and Joey
taunts and terrorizes him, then says, "Johnny, I
love you," a moment that suddenly, unexpectedly,
proves deeply moving. Johnny's answering admission
to Joey, "You're my hero," carries the same
emotional weight, before mutual resentment pries
them apart again. Clark illuminates Johnny's soul
and makes clear, through the quagmire of unresolved
conflicts, that Johnny is a survivor. Joey, for all
his swagger and cockiness, is the one mortally
damaged, and Stubblefield conveys that torment
superlatively when he says to Johnny, "You think I'm
not going to make it," and suffers as his father
gives Johnny a ring, ignoring Joey's needs and
feelings. Abbott rises to the occasion when she has
a good line. After Johnny's plea, "Tell me you love
me," she responds, "It won't sound believable," a
derisive dismissal that has the bruising ring of
truth. Otherwise, her mother character is the least
interesting, filled with self-involved prattle that
pales when compared with the other principals.
As the ruthless, raging butcher-father, Eddie Jones
is pure animal, and helmer Khanzadian allows him the
lashing leeway he needs. Beefy, brutal, he reduces
Joey to "a whipped dog in a corner." He tells
Johnny, "I hit you, the same as him -- he fell
down," fully justifying Johnny's remark, "I'll never
think of you without being shocked by your
lovelessness." Inevitably, a statement emerges, "We
could have loved each other -- it was there for all
of us," but this father-son connection is so ugly
and unbalanced that a neat psychological wrap-up
isn't convincing, and it's impossible to accept that
Johnny retains any residual affection for this
monster.
Most of Shanley's tart observations avoid such easy
sentiment, and what sticks painfully in mind is the
wreckage of a family -- a destroyed, broken Joey and
the sad sight of Johnny facing the audience, knowing
even as he reaches manhood that too much damage has
been done for him to ever be fully whole. Sets, John
G. Williams; costumes, Gelareh Khalioun; lighting,
Carol Doehring; original music and sound, Brian
Benison; production stage manager, Carole Ursetti.
Opened, reviewed Sept. 10, 2005; runs through Oct.
9. Running time: 2 hours.
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