Joshua Lane

Enter the haunted trap of ‘Veronica’s Room’

PWJW_Indy Reviews, Stage , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

By John Lyle Belden

Eclipse Productions* of Bloomington adds to the October chill with its production of “Veronica’s Room.”

The 1973 play is by Ira Levin, author of “Rosemary’s Baby” and “The Stepford Wives,” which should alert you to the caliber of psychological thriller we are dealing with. To set that mood, the audience walks in through the stage area of the Rose Firebay Theater in the Waldron Arts Center and are seated in the titular room throughout the play. Try to ignore the phantoms.

Soon arriving are Susan (Mandy Scamacca) and Larry (Michael Allen), a young couple invited by John (Ronnie Johnstone) and Maureen (Becky Stapf), caretakers of this old house. The Girl is asked to help comfort the home’s aging resident by pretending to be her long-dead sister, Veronica. They note that Cissie, who is dying, has mentally slipped back to 1935 and needs reassurance that her sister has forgiven her for past events.

Reluctant at first, Susan agrees to take on the role, including changing into Veronica’s clothes. After The Woman briefs her on details including the younger brother Conrad and their physician, Dr. Simpson, she is left alone to prepare for the next scene.

She is not ready for what happens next.

I dare not spoil anything further, as the plot twists around shifting identities and altered reality – like a story by Phillip K. Dick in the style of Shirley Jackson. Director Kate Weber leans into this sense of fractured perspective with touches including the unspeaking hooded guides at the show’s beginning, wall cut-aways allowing us to see into the hall outside the room, and the spooky soundscape – designed by Joshua Lane – with constant low moans and creaks. Terrible past events haunt this space; as we come to understand them, note that this is for mature audiences (content includes various forms of abuse, as well as gaslighting and murder).

Performances explore the complexity of the characters’ identities while the flexible nature of stagecraft in presenting any time and place gives us little certainty. Is Susan pretending to be Veronica, or did Veronica dream up Susan? Scamacca effectively personifies the struggle. Our printed program is of no help – she is listed as “The Girl.”

Likewise, Allen is “The Young Man,” a little standoffish and hard to fathom from the start. Johnstone, “The Man,” masterfully drops clues that only add up in the end. Stapf, “The Woman,” gives a powerhouse performance that stuns with every disturbing twist.

For our Indianapolis readers, this play is well worth the drive down to Bloomington. Eclipse’s immersive approach to theatre really pays off. Remaining performances of “Veronica’s Room” are Oct. 24-26 at 122 S. Walnut St. Get info and tickets at eclipseproductionscompany.com.

—

(*No relation to the “Eclipse” professional theatre program of Summer Stock Stage in Indianapolis.)  

‘Rabbit Hole’ a careful exploration of painful subject

PWJW_Indy Reviews, Stage , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

By John Lyle Belden

Eclipse Productions of Bloomington* presents the Pulitzer-winning drama, “Rabbit Hole,” by David Lindsay-Abare, which is a challenge to watch – not because it’s done badly, but because it is done so well.

Real-world married couple Kate Weber and Jeremy J. Weber play Becca and Howie Corbett, in whose suburban New York home the play is set. Months earlier, their four-year-old son Danny was struck and killed by a car when the boy chased his dog into the street. Becca is still dealing not only with the pain of grief but also with the constant presence of Danny’s clothes and possessions. Howie maintains a strong front, but privately watches VCR tapes from Danny’s last months before the accident, and sees even taking clothes to Goodwill as “erasing” their son. The couple had gone to a support group for parents who lost children, but Becca found their sentiments infuriating, so Howie goes alone.

We also meet Izzy (Trick Blanchfield), Becca’s sister whose irresponsible lifestyle is changing thanks to a surprise pregnancy by her musician boyfriend. Nat (Beth Fort), mother of the two women, is also present, cocktail in hand. Her attempts at comfort and relating to loss bring up her own unresolved pain over son Arthur, Becca and Izzy’s older brother, who died of suicide.

In addition, there is Jason Willett (Sam Durnil), the teenager who was at the wheel of the vehicle that hit Danny, dealing with his own feelings of responsibility.

The five visible characters are surrounded by an orbit of others whose presence are felt, including Arthur; Izzy’s boyfriend and his now-ex (an encounter with whom Izzy relates in the first scene); the ever-barking dog; and the long-time friends with children who haven’t called since the funeral.

The star at the center, of course, is Danny. Every conversation carries the weight of his absence. As Howie watches the tape, family moments are heard and seen in a projection that bathes the set with the happy boy’s presence.

Flashes of humor help make the moments of raw emotion bearable and relatable. Each person has their well-intentioned mis-steps on their way forward through the weeks that follow.

The Webers’ natural chemistry helps inform the longing between their characters struggling with potential estrangement. Each presents a soul nearing the breaking point; she as she cries out, he as he holds everything in. Blanchfield, ever reliable in a free-spirit role, transmutes smoothly as she becomes the voice of reason. Fort stirs our sympathies with her complex character, dealing with the loss of both son and grandson as best she can. Durnil handles well a teen given a burden way beyond his maturity to shoulder. Still, Jason’s brave naïve gesture becomes an unlikely turning point.

The play is directed by Konnor Graber, whose approach draws us in with compelling performances, the projected video, and the use of songs during low-light scene transitions that reflect the mood and plot. Lighting is by Allie Mattox, sound by Joshua Lane, set design by technical director Shayna Survil, with Alec Guerra as stage manager.

This drama is worth the effort to see as it eases us through this couple’s process, engaging us with a reminder that life can and must continue, even as those who departed linger in spirit.

Performances are Friday through Sunday, Aug. 8-10 at The Constellation Playhouse, 107 W. 9th St., Bloomington. For tickets and info, see eclipseproductionscompany.com.

*(No relation to the “Eclipse” Indy young artist program.)  

Gritty ‘Streetcar’ an immersive ride

PWJW_Indy Reviews, Stage , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

By John Lyle Belden

A relative newcomer to the Hoosier theatre scene, Eclipse Productions of Bloomington (no relation to the student company in Indy) presents its take on Tennessee Williams’s “A Streetcar Named Desire.” One of the founders, Konnor Graber, told us Eclipse’s shows “are going darker, grittier, and authentic.” This stage classic turned out to be the perfect vehicle, steered by director Kate Weber (another founder, along with Ashley Prather and Jeremy J. Weber).

Perhaps coincidentally running during Mental Health Awareness Month, the production focuses on the growing madness of Miss Blanche DuBois, an aging Southern Belle who lost both her family and their former plantation, Belle Reve, in Mississippi, and goes to her only living relative, sister Stella Kowalski, in a cozy working-class apartment in New Orleans’ French Quarter.

Actually, we meet Blanche (Dania Leova) before the play officially starts, as the lobby has transformed to the vistors’ parlor of a Louisiana mental hospital, not long after the unfortunate woman’s committal in 1947. She is quiet and literally restrained in her chair, while a nurse (Connie Shakalis) reads poems by Poe to keep her calm. We are entertained by a visiting singer (Jen Wells, who is also stage manager) accompanied by Noel Patrick Koontz on guitar.

The theatre doors open, and Blanche is wheeled in before we are allowed to enter and take our seats. Wells follows, her voice lilting “Dream a Little Dream” as she climbs through the audience. For a moment, Blanche is at the corner of the stage, perhaps wondering, how did it all come to this? A quick blackout, and we all proceed to find out.

Leova is exquisite as Blanche, charm laid on as thick as the region’s humidity. She has us believing her despite ourselves, never relenting as the center of attention, though we see her trustworthiness slowly erode. Graber is powerful as Stella’s husband, Stanley. Little effort is made to make the man likable, though he has a personal magnetism that keeps his friends and wife loyal. His is another study in untreated mental issues, a lifetime of class resentment and being called “pollack,” capped by service in World War II, leaving him with a constant undercurrent of rage, only abated when transformed into lustful attention to Stella (Shayna Survil), who is addicted to him like a drug. He practically snarls his lines, at or edging on a shout; every object he handles gets slammed somewhere; and sensing a fellow façade, he sees through Blanche from the start and never lets her forget it. Survil, for her part, is endearing as she struggles to stay the voice of reason, the mediator between her unstable housemates. Alas, she also has what would now be classed a trauma bond with her often abusive husband.

Shakalis and Benjamin Loudermilk are charming in their own way as neighbor/landlords Eunice and Steve Hubbell, in their stormy but loving relationship. Playing Stanley and Steve’s bowling and poker buddies are Koontz as Pablo and Jeremy Weber as Mitch, a single man living with his ailing mother, who takes a fancy to Blanche – a relationship she proceeds to toy with and exploit. Weber ably portrays both Mitch’s infatuation and his solid sense of honor.

The performance is accentuated by the growing intervention of Blanche’s intrusive mental static, music, and other noise provided by sound designer Joshua Lane. Kate Weber credits the combined efforts of her direction, Lane’s soundscape and lighting by Allie Mattox for the overall effect. We all become witness to Blanche’s ever-worsening state, snapped by a rash act that, with her at last speaking truth, no one believes – or wants to.

Bearing in mind appropriate trigger warnings, come aboard the “Streetcar” this Thursday through Sunday, May 16-19, at the Ted Jones Playhouse, 107 W. 9th St., Bloomington. Get info and tickets at eclipseproductionscompany.com.