Indian Summer
Written by Gregory S. Moss; directed by Carolyn
Cantor
Performances through June 26, 2016
Playwrights
Horizons, 416 West 42nd Street, New York, NY
playwrightshorizons.org
Radiant Vermin
Written by Philip Ridley; directed by David
Mercatali
Performances through July 3, 2016
Brits
Off Broadway, 59 East 59th Street, NY
59e59.org
Owen Campbell and Elise Kibler in Indian Summer (photo: Joan Marcus) |
Of
course Indian Summer is set on a beach: that it’s a beach on Rhode
Island, the smallest of our 50 states, is Gregory S. Moss’s conceit. Our
teenage hero is Daniel, one of the “summer people” staying with his widowed
grandfather George for the summer—or until his erstwhile mother returns from
wherever she went after dropping him off. He is befriended by cute 17-year-old
local girl Izzy—after initially insulting her Sicilian heritage; Izzy’s 27-year-old
boyfriend Jeremy is not only the personification of “musclehead” but also a man
desperate to hold onto his girl by any means necessary.
Despite
his lunkheadedness, Jeremy notices that Daniel and Izzy are becoming quite friendly
and compatible, despite their initial antagonism. If Moss can’t quite make his almost
love triangle plausible, he has a knack for gentle observation and the
occasional wistful moment, like the lovely scene that opens Act II: Daniel and
Izzy, after spending the entire night (platonically) on the beach, sit in the
sand and discuss what they would say if they ran into each other here ten years
from now.
The next
scene, of Jeremy pathetically enlisting Daniel to help him plan to propose to Izzy—which
Daniel goes along with because he’s absolutely sure Izzy will turn Jeremy down
flat—also adeptly blends equal parts humor, heartbreak and sentiment. But the
elephant in the room is George our erstwhile narrator, who late in the play has
Izzy wear his dead wife’s dress and talk to him as if she were his wife. The
resulting scene, unlike the two preceding it, isn’t memorably melancholic or sweet,
but instead downright creepy.
Still,
Moss writes nicely turned conversational dialogue and Carolyn Cantor directs straightforwardly
on Dane Laffrey’s sandbox of a set in which the actors frolic for 90 minutes. Jonathan
Hadary might be a bit too obvious as George, but Joe Tippett brings feeling to Jeremy’s
ripped abs and Owen Campbell makes a properly pimply and confused Daniel.
But Elise
Kibler carries the play on her shoulders as Izzy, a tough yet tender, raw but
romantic young heroine. Playing the only character interacting with the others,
Kibler gives a nuanced and persuasive performance that elevates Indian Summer past its sentimental
leanings to achieve an overarching melancholy like watching the last sunset on
the beach at the end of summer.
Scarlett Alice Johnson and Sean Michael Verey in Radiant Vermin (photo: Carol Rosegg) |
With Radiant
Vermin, Philip Ridley has made an fitfully amusing black comedy that acidly
looks at the new normal: middle-class couple Ollie and Jill—in their attempt at
upward mobility in a society that no longer easily allows it—discovers a sure-fire
way to become and remain affluent: (gulp) murder.
Ridley
has gleeful fun with how his couple goes about its diabolical plan, which takes
on greater urgency when Jill gets pregnant. But there’s not much underneath the
surface, and introducing a mysterious real estate agent who may have something
to do with their doings is something intriguing that’s been left unexplored.
Despite
the shrillness—one ridiculously overwrought sequence has the couple acting out
a dinner party from hell that seems to last forever, and with few chuckles—the
actors do their very best to keep it afloat. Sean Michael Verey, an amusingly
hangdog Ollie, has thick glasses framing a rubbery face of sheer ingenuity,
while Scarlett Alice Johnson makes an absolutely winning Jill: she more than
complements her costar by bringing needed heart to the proceedings, of which
director David Mercatali should have made better use.
No comments:
Post a Comment