April 20, 2005
A R T S   F E A T U R E

THE INDEPENDENT WEEKLY

B Y R O N   W O O D S

 

It had been too regular--and unwelcome--a feature in reviews from N.C. State in recent years.

Strong designs? Naturally. Good scripts? Sure.

Difficulties in the acting?

Yep. We got that, too.

Which is why I'm particularly thrilled to note the level of improvement I've seen across the board this year in mainstage shows at University Theatre.

The upward path began with a sturdy fall production of Biloxi Blues and was clearly observed in both Ma Rainey's Black Bottom and a special January run of Jane Martin's Jack and Jill. In each of these the central roles were notably stronger, while supporting roles themselves were receiving more support during development.

The warming trend continued last week with a superior production of Tennessee Williams' Not About Nightingales .

The script, one of Williams' earliest plays, remained unproduced for over 30 years until Vanessa Redgrave unearthed it for a London premiere in 1998.

Its egalitarian ethic firmly grounds it in the world of the New Deal. Its occasional but obvious melodramatic indulgences mark a gifted but still developing young playwright who hadn't fully learned yet how to gauge the strength of his own words.

With this worthwhile but variable script, the acting must finesse the rougher parts. It certainly did in Thompson Theatre last week.

Under Terri Janney's direction, Jim Sullivan gave the strongest performance we've seen from him to date as the corrupt warden of an island penitentiary based on Alcatraz. Just as convincing: Chad Goudy's cellblock tough-guy, Butch O'Fallon. Will Sanders finds the right notes of reserve and believability as Canary Jim Allison, an inmate who walks the line, while Jackie Willse finds the strength and the limits of the warden's virtuous new secretary, Eva Crane.

Remi Loiseau removed no doubt that Swifty, the new inmate, was doomed; Byron Jennings II and Josh Parker took thankless roles and found humanity in them. Ensemble work sent a chill down the spine in a mid-show chantey, "A Ticket to Hell."

It's interesting to see Williams explore themes he will return to repeatedly in his career. We watch as Williams' dark angels of corruption, cruelty and desire lay waste ultimately to everyone on stage.

Corky Pratt's monochrome vision of an Alcatraz cellblock sets the mood, and Lisa Tireman's costumes (and the uncredited makeup) fill out the picture. But none would have sufficed without believable actors in the world. As notable as the design elements are, it's the acting that really generates the heat of "Klondike," the boiler room where inmates are sent to be tortured. The physical work convinces us of the pain in these people's bodies.

It's certainly not the first show this season where the acting has outshone the script. I'm glad this one was at N.C. State. By all means, continue.

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