There’s nothing subtle when you walk into this lobby. There
are cars everywhere—model cars on tables, posters of cars on the walls, a real
auto enthusiast’s dream. (Come to think of it, I’m surprised my dad didn’t hang
out in the lobby for much longer to look at it all.) And then when you walked
into the theatre itself, the theme continued. There were “lanes” made of yellow
and white tape on the carpet in the aisles. There were road signs on the walls
on either side of the audience. And the stage itself completed the picture;
even though there were three playing areas to represent a living room, an
office, and a back porch, the walls had multiple floating road signs, and the
stage was painted as a road, leading from upstage to downstage center. Before
you get to your seat, you’re thinking, “Okay, I get it, I get it! This is about
cars and roads and destinations.”
Yes, but only metaphorically, you see.
The auto-themed presentation didn’t stop there though. The
soundtrack was full of songs about cars and driving, the best and most relevant
of which was Traci Chapman’s 1980’s hit, “Fast Car”, which is actually a slow
and sad song. I would give points for “I Drove All Night”, but they didn’t use
the gut-wrenching Cyndi Lauper version; I don’t know what version they used.
Becky’s New Car is
a relatively recent play by popular playwright Steven Dietz. And it is indeed
about journeys and destinations, and stops along the long—or short, depending
on your perspective—road of life. It focuses on a seemingly cheerful,
middle-aged housewife and mother of a grown son who lives in the basement (hate
those slackers). Her job is successful…enough. Her marriage is happy…enough.
And yet something in her life is just not…enough.
Her husband is distant, her son is entitled, and her job is thankless. When a
confused and wealthy man shows her more attention than she’s used to, she takes
advantage, unleashing a series of events (both comic and dramatic) that effects
the lives of everyone she knows and loves.
This play is a star vehicle for a leading lady, so you’d better
have a good one. And HART does in this production. Patti Speight strikes that
perfect balance of humor and the restless ennui that propels her title
character to make the wrong choices in a late shot at happiness. There isn’t a
time when we don’t empathize with what she’s feeling or are unable to
understand her actions. Although this dramedy teeters dangerously close to
sitcom territory at times, it is saved by Speight’s solid and reliable
performance.
And, really, all the performances are strong here. I always
have to give a shout out to my friend Paul Roder, who is a character in life
and is thus always an interesting one on stage. Finding comedy in a character’s
pain and tragedy is not an easy thing to pull off, but Roder takes us to that
edge of morbidity without throwing us over. Carl Dalquist’s performance as the
wide-eyed son--at first selfish and pretentious, then startled and affected by
love—is his best that I’ve seen yet. And Bryan Luttrell, as the widower who
mistakes Becky for a widow, is at once quirky, awkward, vulnerable, and intensely
likable. And I’ll whisper you a secret: my heart was most with this character.
Most any problems I had were not with the production itself,
but with the script. Dietz is a great writer, but it’s hard to strike the
delicate balance between comedy and drama. I don’t think he is entirely
successful here. And I really dislike plays that require audience interaction
when you’re not expecting it. Not only are audience members put on the spot in
the position of wondering what the right response should be, but it also takes
you out of the world of the story. Breaking the fourth wall is okay, but there
are rules that should be adhered to. Either have only one person talk to the
audience and be aware of them, or have everyone in on it. This play was consistent
with only one fourth wall-breaker (Becky herself) until the final scene. When
the husband does it, it throws you off.
Lastly, there was a moment when I thought the play was going
to end, with Betty alone in the car, talking to the audience. My personal wish
is that it had ended there. It would have been much stronger. But instead, the
play lasts about 15 more minutes in order to tie things up in a nice bow, which
would be all right if it didn’t represent a turn towards the didactic. Moral
ambiguity goes out the window, and Life Lessons are thrust upon us.
She should have just kept on driving.
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