Brady Dalton Richards, Rachel Weck and Carlos Larkin in The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane at 24th Street Theatre. (Photo by Cooper Bates)
Brady Dalton Richards, Rachel Weck and Carlos Larkin in The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane at 24th Street Theatre. (Photo by Cooper Bates)

The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane

Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
24th Street Theatre
Extended through June 2

Children’s author Kate DiCamillo won the 2006 Boston Globe-Horn Book Award for fiction for The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, about a pretentious porcelain rabbit and the misadventures that befall him before he learns about humility and love.

Dwayne Hartford’s flowing stage adaptation is wry, funny, sad and wise, but the production at 24thStreet Theatre, directed by Debbie Devine, is a rare miss for a company whose exceptional family fare has included such outstanding productions as Hansel and Gretel, La Razón Blindada, Walking the Tightrope and Rome at the End of the Line. The play, written for four actors who assume multiple roles, is deftly performed, but the spare set (Keith Mitchell) and the uniformly black costuming (Shannon A. Kennedy) drain the story of much of its warmth and fancy.

Edward (Carlos Larkin), who can think but cannot speak, begins his journey as the cherished toy of a little girl from an upper middle-class family (Rachel Weck) but loses his secure place in the world after a malicious stranger tosses him into the ocean. (Note: Edward is represented by both an actual toy rabbit and Larkin, who’s present on stage throughout and voices his thoughts.)

Rescued from the deep by a fisherman (Brady Richards), he’s brought home to the man’s lonely and grieving wife (Weck), who is still mourning the death of their 5-year-old son. All goes well until the couple is visited by their ugly-tempered grownup daughter (Jennifer Hasty), who clandestinely removes Edward from the house and deposits him in the city dump. Eventually he’s dug up by the faithful mutt (Richards) of an itinerant hobo (Weck), then spends 7 happy years in their company till a railway watchman (Hasty) pitches him from a train.

With each new adventure (there are others), Edward enters into the lives of people who are dealing with poverty or illness, yet the rabbit comes away with some experience of affection and kindness before rude fate again casts him in some way adrift. It’s an endearing story about discovering what’s truly valuable and important in our lives.

As Edward, Larkin establishes a distinctive presence, but his interpretation struck me as somewhat off-the-mark: The character comes across as neurotic and vulnerable from the start, so that his passage from a snooty stuffed-shirt to a being who understands tenderness and love is not as clear as it should be.

In terms of staging: except for a mobile cart and ladder, the stage is mostly bare, and sometimes the actors, dressed in black, appear lost in that space. Too much of the action takes place upstage; the dramatic impact of some scenes would have been greater had they been played closer to the audience. And Dan Weingarten’s lighting, especially of the actors’ faces, is too consistently dim, while Matthew G. Hill’s typically striking videography fails to compensate for the paucity of visuals elsewhere. Composer/pianist Bradley Brough’s live score, while a plus, at times competes too pronouncedly with the actors.

The show’s strength lies in the ensemble. Weck is especially lovely as Edwards’ first owner, Abilene, and in a series of other roles as well. The versatile Hasty plays both the narrator and most of the “heavies” in the story, all adeptly. The enormously agile Richards brings great physicality to his performance, most especially as the dog Lucy.

And while the production may fall short in technical areas relative to those in the past, it still furnishes family entertainment of a superior caliber, benefitting our community.

24th Street Theatre, 1117 24th St., L.A.; Sat., 7:30 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; extended through Jun. 2. (213) 745-6516 or www.24thstreet.org. Running time: approximately 90 minutes with no intermission.