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Locked
Down
By
James Yeara
Jesus
Hopped the A Train
By
Stephen Adly Guirgis, directed by Danielle Skraastad
StageWorks/Hudson, through Oct. 9
Angel (Daniel Henriquez) kneels in his cell at Riker’s Island
trying to pray: “Our father who art in heaven, Howard be thy
name.” He starts over, screwing up again and again, each time
more desperately comically. Other inmates yell out an unusual
call and response: “Shut the fuckitty fuck up.” “You shut
the fuckitty fuck up, mother fucker.” “No, you shut the fuckitty
fuck up.”
Fans of HBO’s prison drama Oz will be fans of StageWorks/Hudson’s
current production of Jesus Hopped the A Train; fans
of Law and Order’s neat wrap-it-up-quick justice, too.
But also fans of divine justice, fans of comedy, fans of existentialism,
fans of the profane, fans of the sacred—and, most importantly,
fans of theater. In Jesus Hopped the A Train, StageWorks/Hudson
creates another regional premiere of a play that challenges
its audience as much as it makes its audience laugh.
Director Danielle Skraastad, star of many previous StageWorks/Hudson
productions (and alumna of New York City productions of Jesus),
keeps her five- person cast focused, exact, believable, interesting,
funny, and stunning—all with an audience-friendly but tight,
playwright-pleasing pace.
This is a production that hums, and the acting stays in the
realm of the real and the honest. With a play juggling as
many issues, ideas, characters and stories as this one does,
Skraastad, cast and crew are to be lauded for balancing the
malice and the mirth so that neither is lost nor overwhelms
the other. An audience leaves remembering the laughs but also
thinking about faith, an issue addressed in the play without
mind-numbing platitudes or soul-shrinking clichés.
Jesus
Hopped the A Train focuses on the aforementioned Angel
Cruz, arrested for popping a cap literally in the ass of a
Reverend Moon-ish would-be messiah who has brainwashed Angel’s
best friend. Angel’s reasons may be noble, but his acts are
not, and his faith is as full of doubts as a living human’s
should be. Henriquez’s Angel rages, pouts, despairs, pleads
and joys. That Henriquez keeps each emotion clear and focused
keeps the audience engaged in the play.
After being beaten and raped by other inmates, Angel finds
himself in lockdown. Other characters are similarly locked
down, physically or spiritually: the wonderfully complex Lucius
Jenkins (force of nature Charles E. Wallace); the tortured
and nearly burnt-out defense attorney Mary Jan Hanrahan (a
frazzled but sympathetic Elisabeth S. Rodgers); and the brutal
prison guard Valdez (A-Men Rasheed), who carries the weight
of our expectations to punish lawbreakers yet preserve his
humanity.
When Valdez spits at the born-again serial murderer Lucius,
“God hates you,” after one of Lucius’ typically lyrical bursts
of devotion, the squirming in the audience is intense. Lucius
is a particularly vicious mass murderer, but Valdez is a particularly
vicious guard, and understanding the reasons why puts the
audience in an uncomfortable position. That’s the stuff theater
is made on.
And that’s the stuff Jesus Hopped the A Train is full
of. It’s a rich, funny, exciting play that makes you think
and laugh, a rarity in the area but the usual outcome at StageWorks/Hudson.
Ghostly
Poetry
Tongue
of a Bird
By
Ellen McLaughlin, directed by Bruce T. MacDonald
Main Street Stage, North Adams, Mass., through Oct. 8
Tongue
of a Bird is strange and unsettling, and I didn’t want
it to end. Main Street Stage Artistic Director Bruce T. MacDonald
has assembled a nearly perfect cast of actors for this all-woman
ensemble piece, a poetical quasi-ghost story about loss, motherhood,
forgiveness and release.
Melissa Quirk plays Maxine, a search pilot brought back to
her hometown in the mountains as a last resort by the mother
of a girl missing in the woods for 11 days. Maxine is confident
about her unblemished record as a finder of lost hikers and
lyrical about the landscape below her. (Main Street’s stage,
painted over with fluffy grey clouds, has been transformed
from a black box into a dreamy realm.) But Zofia, the Polish
grandmother who raised her, is mysteriously resistant to the
idea of letting Maxine move back in for the duration of the
search. As we discover, the death of Maxine’s mother left
a gap that both joins Zofia and her granddaughter and pushes
them apart. On stage, Maxine divides her time between mothering
the two bereft mothers and dealing with her own demons.
Quirk’s rapport with both women—Judyth Kanner, who plays Zofia
with a wonderful Old World spaciness and Beth Hahn as Dessa,
the school-bus-driving single mother, as down-to-earth as
they come—is what makes Tongue come alive. (The title,
by the way, comes from a metaphor for the black rubber protector
shoved between the teeth of patients going in for shock treatment,
an image that, while perhaps fitting, is kind of creepy at
the same time.) Playwright McLaughlin, who was part of the
talented all-female ensemble in Top Girls at Williamstown
this past July, gives her characters dialogue that is very
real yet heightened at the same time.
Just a tad less satisfying are the scenes where Maxine confronts
the specters of Charlotte, the missing girl, played by Lindsay
Hebb, and Judy Pieschel as Maxine’s mother Evie. Bloody and
deathly pale, Charlotte’s “ghost” evokes both teenage zombie
movies and The Lovely Bones, but her horrifying presence
onstage is problematic, and her exchanges with Quirk’s Maxine
less compelling than with Kanner and Hahn. Pieschel isn’t
quite as successful in making us accept McLaughlin’s language
as the rest of the cast; coupled with her odd get-up, an aviatrix’s
earflapped cap, scarf, and duster, her character never grabs
as the others do.
Given the range of emotions delivered by the extremely capable
Quirk, I think MacDonald does her a disservice by merely blacking
out the stage between scenes, in mid-howl as it were. Some
sort of sound transition is definitely called for. And I think
it was unnecessarily specific to say that the play takes place
in the Adirondacks. The exact location never figures in the
story, and, in fact, other productions have called the setting
Maine or left it unnamed altogether. But taken as a whole,
Main Street Stage’s production of Tongue of a Bird
is too good to miss.
—Kathy
Ceceri
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