April Martucci and Cindy D’Andrea (Photo by Matt Kamimura)
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
White Horse, Theater Company at Theater 68 Arts Complex
Through Nov. 29
Set in an old country house in rural Pennsylvania, Thistles, written by Cyndy A. Marion and directed by Tamara Ruppart, takes place when Covid was in full swing and overshadowed our lives.
Rebecca (April Martucci), the play’s pivotal character, has fled New York City for her family home, a large property that includes a couple of dwellings and an expanse of land. The property is owned by Rebecca’s mother and her two siblings. Rebecca is escaping the urban claustrophobia engendered by Covid, but she’s also intent on sorting out family matters, specifically selling the house (but not the land), which is rundown and expensive to maintain. In this matter, she’s representing her mom, since her parent is 82 and experiencing some dementia. But she’s met with resistance from her mother’s brother, Peter (Kevin McKim) and sister, Lucinda (Mary Carrig). Neither of them actually lives in the house, but neither do they want to sell. Peter especially stubbornly refuses to entertain the idea.
During her sojourn, Rebecca begins having coffee with Laney (Cindy D’Andrea), a nearby neighbor who visits often. Laney appears to be a nervous, fragile person, in contrast to the take-charge Rebecca. Rebecca is gay and senses that Laney, though she won’t admit to it, may be also. Their cordial conversation over the kitchen table is infused with an “Is she or isn’t she?” tension that runs in tandem with the play’s other main plot thread, having to do with conflict over the family property.
This latter storyline is a common one (from classics like King Lear and The Cherry Orchard to contemporary plays like Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ Appropriate, not to mention a host of television shows and films). What makes the best of these interesting, dramatic or relevant are the depth and complexity of the characters and the writers’ skill with language.
Not so here, unfortunately. In Thistles, the playwright has drawn on her personal experience but has done little to enrich either of these components of character or language. Much of the dialogue fails to depart from something you might overhear in a day-to-day conversation between neighbors, strangers, or friends. A lot of the exposition is rendered in telephone conversations that Rebecca has with her mother or wife back home, and occasionally with her aunt Lucinda. As to personal traumas and emotional relationships within the family, these are touched on in a conversation between Rebecca and Peter near the end of the play, when it is already too late to make them a motivating element in the drama. A plan to sell the land to developers, hatched between Peter and Alan (Rod Sweitzer), a local handyman, looks for a while like it might manifest as a villainous conspiracy, but in the end, it turns out to be a practical plan to fend off bankruptcy rather than a covert effort to steal from Rebecca and her mother.
The performances are mostly unhelpful. Lines are delivered, but little drama is evoked. One small exception comes with the entrance from Carrig’s Lucinda, who make an appearance about 10 minutes before curtain (Prior to that she was just referred to in conversation or we heard her on the phone). It’s a lively cameo that adds a modicum of color.
Set designer Andis Gjonic’s kitchen interior is simple but appealing; the dishes displayed on the cabinet are an attractive touch. Joe Gianono’s original music, heard during scene changes, lathers on the bathos rather too thickly.
Theatre 68, 5112 Lankershim Blvd., N. Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 2:30 pm; thru Nov. 29. https://whitehorsetheater.com/ Runtime: approximately two hours with an intermission.
