"Splendor in the Grass," Clayton Community Theatre. Photograph by John Lamb
At a performance of the monologue “Mrs. Sorken” last weekend, Peggy Billo worked a little impromptu magic. The door at the side of Fontbonne University's black box theater opened to admit a latecomer in the dark, and Billo, as the titular character, turned to the audience member and warbled, "Come in, there's plenty of seats!"
It was a snappy bit of improvisation, a worthy riposte to a minor rudeness, a commentary on the thinly attended matinee performance, and a welcome delivered in character as the folksy, grandmotherly, unpretentious speaker. You had to smile and appreciate.
Mrs. Sorken is a chipper and meandering hostess, eager to share her unbridled affection for all things theater in the tidbit of a presentation, scripted by Christopher Durang to serve as the intro for longer theatre pieces. She represents all that is middlebrow about Joe Audience Member, but has a few zingers that surprise. For instance, she mentions that one of the aims of ancient Greek theater was to provoke terror, whereas today it's more like discomfort. Two points, Sorken.
Along those lines, most of her chatter consists of breaking down the Greek origins of various words from the jargon of drama, and the pedantry of it all is supposed to be cute. Her invitation to any and all in the audience to drop in and say hi next time we're in "Chesterfield" was a dig at provincialism, and, simultaneously, a provincial jab itself.
Mrs. Sorken is no Dame Edna; her camp and her comedy are much milder. Billo does an admirable job, and the interlude is admirably brief.
In David Mamet's "The Duck Variations," two altacockers meet, as is their custom, on a bench by a lake and proceed to gab about everything and nothing for the better part of an hour while watching the ducks skim by.
I imagine many people will tell you that Mamet's stylized dialogue is naturalistic; that the way characters grunt and speak in truncated sentences and single, cryptic words in, say, American Buffalo, is the way Americans actually speak. Whatever. [Grunt]
This two-person, one-scene trifle offers some of that signature annoyance, but there is also much verisimilitude in the way these seniors ramble and argue. Men talk on and on about the B.S. we think we know. Senior men are particularly guilty. Mamet's geezers of the day, Emil and George, are perfectly typical know-it-alls. Their urgently delivered speeches occasionally reach heights of ignorance so lofty it's hilarious.
George claims that the mating of ducks is a procedure "few white men have ever witnessed." One pointless exchange about the merits of ducks versus pigeons nearly escalates to cane-swinging violence. A confusion between the words "cantaloupe" and "antelope" is worthy of Shel Silverstein.
Bobby Miller and Richard Lewis are two of the local stage's most accomplished veterans, and their sense of timing is a thing to behold. If the utterly meandering conversation occasionally leaves the audience in the doldrums, the actors' summoning of elderly bravado and mortal fears draws wind into the comedy's sails
There is the sense that we are all headed for a senescence of ducks and lakes and canes and pointless arguments. While Mrs. Sorken offers wan comedy and gentle criticism of modern theater, the Duck Variations offers a glimpse on an entirely too-gentle dying-of-the-light. Together, they meander uneasily through the land of old age.
The liberal moralizing in Splendor in the Grass—that attempts to prevent young adults from shtupping are perilous and ultimately counter-productive—is as relevant today as it ever was. Splendor, originally a William Inge novel and then a landmark 1961 film, imagines what happens when high-school sweethearts Bud and Deanie get hot and heavy in the back of the roadster in 1920s Kansas. Bud has got to have it. Deanie is a “good girl,” and she won’t give it up. His unrelenting horniness leads to impregnating a waitress and cruel fate—now he’s got to marry a woman he doesn’t particularly love. Deanie’s journey is much more twisted—being rejected by Bud for keeping her legs closed lands her an extended stay in the loony bin.
The question on the minds of those who know the tale is, just how racy will a community theater get with this material? The answer was a predictable not very. The young actors in the roles of Bud and Deanie were tasked with showing his sexual frustration right from the first scene, and the audience was forced to intuit that his “Roman hands” were causing her discomfort, because this Splendor left most anything with a whiff of hanky-panky to the imagination. (The super-creepy scene with the near-gang rape of Bud’s libertine sister at a New Year’s Eve party does happen, by the way, but it happens offstage.)
That was to be expected. What was not expected was the huge, 30-person cast. The scenes that take place in the high school are enacted with a grid of benches and no less than 16 young adults perched on them. It’s an impressive assemblage of humanity.
Standout performances include Mark Slaten in the role of cigar-chomping, overbearing oilman Ace Stamper; he has a wonderfully gravelly voice for all those scenes where he berates his son Bud.
For many of the young actors in this one, Splendor is one of their first if not their first plays, and encouragement is appropriate. They handle intimations of suicide, abortion, “slut-shaming,” and more with equanimity.
The adapter and/or director should be encouraged as well—encouraged to speed up the second act, which not only seemed interminably long, but was quite literally longer than the first act, which is unusual. Often plays are structured so the second act is shorter, to ameliorate the ADHD that begins to set in for so many of us after intermission. Making this soap opera a little more compact would have been appreciated.
“Mrs. Sorken” and “The Duck Variations," through February 10. Presented by Mustard Seed Theatre; directed by Deanna Jent. Fontbonne University Fine Arts Theatre, 6800 Wydown, mustardseedtheatre.com.
Splendor in the Grass, through February 3. Presented by Clayton Community Theatre; directed by Dani Mann. Washington University South Campus, 6501 Clayton, placeseveryone.org.
