Ka'Lena Cuevas

Belfry: Story of growing up and growing apart

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

By John Lyle Belden

Do you miss your high school days? Or were you thankful to leave them behind?

These questions come to mind as we watch the three ladies of the play “Vanities,” the Off-Broadway hit by Jack Heifner presented by The Belfry Theatre at The Cat in Carmel, directed by Jen Otterman.

The title metaphor dominates the back of the stage: three mirrored dressing tables where the actors finish their makeup and will change wigs between scenes. Rather than spoil the stage “magic,” this provides an element of continuity. We meet three young women from a Texas town in their senior year of high school, fall 1963; as college seniors and sisters at the KKG sorority in 1968; and meeting up as adults in New York in 1974.

Kathy (Ka’Lena Cuevas), head cheerleader and planner of all major social events, practices for that day’s pep rally with squadmates Mary (Becca Bartley) and Joanne (Cara Olson). In this era between Elvis and the Beatles, the girls are very much of their time. Mary relates the degree to which she lets her boyfriend, Jim, touch her, while Joanne declares she would never allow that with her beau, Ted. Meanwhile Kathy is in a chaste-but-serious relationship with steady Gary.

At Kappa Kappa Gamma, Kathy is still an obsessive planner, readying for the Spring rush and dismayed at the quality of freshmen applying for the sorority. Jim and Gary are each history, but Joanne will marry Ted shortly after Commencement. She looks forward to being a housewife as her husband becomes a lawyer, her degree in music almost an accidental thing. Mary is getting a degree in interior design and tickets to Europe, trading life with disapproving parents for a quest to be “the perfect lost person.” Kathy, facing a future for the first time without her best friends, will continue her life of structure and schedule as a teacher.

In a nice NYC garden apartment, Kathy invites her old friends over – Mary from her SoHo art gallery, Joanne from the Connecticut home she shares with her attorney husband and young children. Champaign will flow, as will words and honest feelings.

True to the title, we have three young women who struggle to see outside themselves. Cuevas maintains a calm demeanor with Kathy, guarded and rarely letting on how confident (or not) she really feels, but never aloof. Bartley takes Mary on her arc of rebellion with an anxiety-tempered smile as she experiences all she can, finding everything but fulfillment. Olson embraces Joanne’s embrace of conservative society expectations, keeping her Texas accent and uncomplicated worldview (except for the strain of childrearing) throughout.

While the subject matter gets serious – complete with a couple of well-placed F-bombs – this is generally a comedy, and these besties do bring on quite a few hearty laughs. In all, an entertaining, intriguing look at an era and the women who came of age in it.

Don’t be too proud to see “Vanities,” 8 p.m. Friday and 2 p.m. on both Saturday and Sunday, March 13-15, at The Cat, 254 Veterans Way in downtown Carmel. For tickets visit thecat.biz or thebelfrytheatre.com.

Laughter and tears in Belfry’s ‘Crimes’

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

By John Lyle Belden

The Pulitzer Prize-winning comic drama “Crimes of the Heart” by Beth Henley takes on a special resonance in these times of heightened awareness of mental health issues and violence against women.

The Belfry Theatre presents this play, directed by Jen Otterman, at the Theater at the Fort in Lawrence in all its dysfunctional glory. Taking place in a roughly 24-hour period in a small Mississippi town in 1974, we meet the Magrath sisters: Lenny (Brooke Hackman) is turning 30 but feels ancient; Meg (Sarah Eberhardt) apparently put her Hollywood singing career on hold to rush home; and Babe (Becca Bartley) is getting bailed out after shooting her abusive rich attorney and State Senator husband in the gut. Cousin Chick (Ka’Lena Cuevas) thinks she’s helping, but is mostly a judgmental pill.

Also on hand are family friend Doc Porter (Tanner Brunson), who isn’t actually a doctor (why will be revealed), and young lawyer Barnette Lloyd (Mickey Masterson) who takes up Babe’s case because he has a “personal vendetta” against her husband.

While I do recommend this play for its sharp script and excellent performances, I must acknowledge there should be a “Trigger Warning” as there is frank discussion of suicide and attempted acts of self-harm. In fact, if one were to observe this as an armchair psychologist, you could see a lot of disorders on display, especially the effects of narcissistic abuse by the sisters’ grandfather (offstage, but very much a character in this story).

And yet, this is also a comedy. The dark humor pops up in little bits here and there, such as Lenny’s “birthday cookie,” and bubbles over in gut-busting moments including one that involves a broom and another that is triggered by the phrase, “you’re too late.” For anyone who relates to tragic circumstances, it’s easy to see how “we shouldn’t laugh at this” only triggers another round of guffaws through cast and audience alike.

Hackman naturally portrays Lenny as a character you just want to put your arm around, maybe to gently shake some sense into. Eberhardt as Meg presents us with a fallen honky-tonk angel who surprises you with her depth of spirit, but who can’t help being that girl in need of rescue. As Babe, Bartley plays a woman who is 24 going on 15, her life decided for her in a way she never wanted, desperate for a way out. Brunson comes across as a strong good ole boy, but more than Doc’s injured leg hasn’t healed properly. Masterson presents Lloyd as the kind of perfect gentleman that makes one suspicious. Finally, as Chick, Cuevas is great as the kind of person who means well, but, well, bless her heart…

Complex and compelling, “Crimes of the Heart” runs through Sunday, May 7, at 8920 Otis Ave., Indianapolis. Info and tickets at thebelfrytheatre.com or artsforlawrence.org.