Chelsea Spirito and Matthew Goodrich (Photo by Erin Clendenin0
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Open Fist Theatre Company at Atwater Village Theatre
Through February 28
Jade Santana and Isaac W. Jay (Photo by Erin Clendenin)
Consisting of a woman-centric trio of stories whose themes involve the impact of wealth on human behavior and the downside of thwarted ambition, Catherine Butterfield’s Brownstone, directed by Ron West, is set in three different time periods — the 1970s, the 1930s and 1999 — with each scenario playing out on the second floor of the same Manhattan townhouse.
Rather than unfolding sequentially, the narratives are interwoven. The play opens in 1978, with the arrival at the brownstone of two young women from Texas: Deena (Rosie Byrne) and Maureen (Amber Tiara) — two enthusiastic naifs determined to make their name on Broadway. Their subsequent dialogue in Act 1 develops around the contrast in their backgrounds: Deena is from a wealthy, privileged family, and the apple of her father’s eye, while Maureen had a modest upbringing. Tensions first arise after Deena begins flooding their apartment with furniture and chachkas imported from home (an overplayed riff), and these problems intensify after she makes minor headway in her career, while Maureen squirrels at home fending off depression with TV and a bag of chips.
As the opening scene comes to an end, a second, involving two of the other characters, begins. Set in 1939, this is a Noël Coward-flavored playlet, about the relationship between Davida (Chelsea Spirito), another spoiled young woman with daddy issues, and Stephen (Matthew Goodrich), a young journalist whom Davida suspects is being forced upon her by her rich controlling father. Resentful, she snubs the young man, albeit we suspect that beneath her standoffish air, she’s drawn to him. Fortunately for Davida, Stephen pursues her despite her snootiness and rude barbs, and by act’s end they are headed for marriage and a honeymoon trip to Paris.
The third story, unwinding around the turn of the 21st-century, revolves around Jessica (Jade Santana) and Jason (Isaac W. Jay), two ambitious, upwardly mobile careerists, whose life together is filled with rounds of parties that they go to for the purposes of firming up business alliances and impressing their peers. While Jason is a stockbroker, Jessica works for an ad firm, and when she secures a lucrative account, she, as much a daddy’s girl as Deena and Davida, makes a beeline for the phone to inform and impress her wealthy parent.
Butterfield’s script relays these stories with nominal wit or probing (For example, what about some insight into these women’s need for — or rejection of — their daddy’s approval?). The plots are predictable, though the drama picks up in the second act as the stakes for each character get higher, and the final scene does carry some poignancy.
Whatever the limitations of the script, it does offer opportunities for actors to project lively characters who must make significant choices in their lives. Yet with the sole exception of Santana’s Jessica, who evolves with passion and conviction when an unseen event throws a monkey wrench into her plans, that doesn’t happen. As her partner Jason, Jay delivers a pallid rendering both of an amorous lover and an aggressive Wall Street player.
The same is true elsewhere. Under West’s direction, Spirito as the privileged Davida and Goodrich as her persevering swain never get past a pale imitation of a Coward play; Goodrich is especially stiff in a role which also seems not terribly well thought out by the writer; he’s supposed to be portraying a keen-minded journalist, but most of the time he does little but stand around mooning after Davida and otherwise behaving as a dull upper-crust gentleman of leisure. (Appearing briefly at the end as Stephen’s grandson, this actor is more relaxed and convincing.)
As the aspiring thespians, Byrne and Tiara start out shrill and at an accelerated pace, fulfilling the character description of young wannabe actresses but racing through their lines without taking the time to make their moments seem real (a directorial issue). Byrne’s portrayal does deepen later after struggle and disappointment take their toll on her character, and she has more to work with, while Tiara’s down-to-earth aura and perceptible flair for comedy eventually had me speculating on how she might succeed with a different kind of material.
With its interwoven narratives, the play is a challenge to stage. Here, scenic designer Jan Monro divides the small proscenium into three separate areas, one for each story. Upstage are two compact sets, side by side — one stylishly reflective of pre-World War II upper-class wealth, while to the right he’s created a layout suitable to contemporary young Manhattanites. The two butt up against each other, and it might have been preferable if there had been a small partition or other indicator to more clearly distinguish them. But on the whole, the setup functions suitably (When the play premiered at Laguna Playhouse in 2008, platforms were rolled on and off for each scene, an awkward time-consuming choice noted by then Variety critic, Bob Verini.) Here, the downstage is kept spare, in keeping with the lifestyle of newly arrived young artists, and enabling space for whenever the characters from the other stories need more room to play.
While Gary Wyrick’s lighting aids in scene transitions, these might be more pronounced — more clearly defined fadeouts, less subtle dimming. Costumes by Mylette Nora work better for some characters than others. Davida in the 1939 sequences has some great vintage outfits; likewise Nora’s given Jessica some hot little numbers to wear, as if to confirm Jason’s comment, after they’ve returned from a party, that every man in the room had wanted her. Jason’s garb, on the other hand, seemed a bit scruffy for the kind of man he’s supposed to be — a guy for whom material wealth, and the opinions of others, are extremely important. A person like this would be careful of his appearance, not dressed super casually, as he is here, in nondescript clothes that in one scene hardly seemed pressed.
Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Ave., Atwater. Opens Sat., Jan. 24; Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 2 pm; thru Feb. 28. openfist.org Running time: approximately two hours and 10 minutes with an intermission.
