Kate Duffy

Clerical Error brings legendary actress to life

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By John Lyle Belden

Known for their comical works, Kate Duffy and Clerical Error Productions have taken on their most serious project yet: “Call Me Kate: Katherine Hepburn Tells it Like it Is.”

Based on a 1970s television interview Hepburn gave to Dick Cavett, this intimate production, held recently in the cozy confines of The Brick Room comedy club in Noblesville, takes us to a 1973 episode of “The Dick Cavendish Show” at ABC studios in New York. The audience is, of course, the studio audience, in sight of a black-and-white monitor that shows appropriate commercials and the flashing “APPLAUSE” sign. As we settle in, the crew are busy – David Molloy as Arthur the producer, Dennis Forkel at the bulky camera, Stacy Long and Cindye McDaniel on hair and makeup, and studio page Manny Casillas. Cavendish (Blake Mellencamp) arrives, blue interview question cards in hand, and finally, Ms. Hepburn herself (Duffy), fussing about the rug and the arrangement of the furniture, barking orders and receiving reassurance from her assistant Phyllis (Wendy Brown). Within seconds, Arthur is counting down: “Four, three, two…” Cue music and applause.

Can something with this big a cast be considered a one-woman-show? As in a great screen bio-pic or stage reenactment, Duffy completely disappears into Hepburn, bringing the Hollywood legend to energetic life. The time frame, between her 1960s performances with Spencer Tracy (“Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner”) and Peter O’Toole (“The Lion in Winter”) and her upcoming notable roles with John Wayne (“Rooster Cogburn”) and Henry Fonda (“On Golden Pond,” winning her fourth Oscar), has Kate at the pinnacle of her power and fame. Mature and candid about her age, she reflects on her varied career, both the hits and the flops, and the many fellow legends she worked with – as well as a few choice words for a director or two she felt deserving of obscurity.

It is clear that Duffy has thoroughly researched the actress, in voice and manner picking up her unique style with confidence, while sharply “remembering” various studio stories and her feelings towards others, especially long-time co-star Tracy. As a further test, all audience members are asked before the show to write a question for “Kate” to answer in the last segment of the program. She answers several, completely in character. (Just don’t ask about films or TV she hasn’t done yet!)

For his part, Mellencamp plays Cavendish as a little starstruck and rather flustered, barely in control of his own show (which Kate has no problem pointing out). It adds to the humor, and the sense that especially in those times, guys can barely handle the presence of a strong woman just being herself.

Clerical Error Productions will next present “Mother Ireland: Women Who Shaped a Nation” in May, before working up a fresh farce for IndyFringe in August. Still, I hope we haven’t heard the last of “Kate” and given this successful premiere, you could one day get to question a “living” legend.

This is ‘Happy’

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

By John Lyle Belden

Decades before the popular “This is Fine” meme showed a cartoon dog smiling through a burning hellscape, famed Irish author and playwright Samuel Beckett penned the play, “Happy Days.” If pressed for a quick explanation of this unusual two-person show (completely unrelated to the 1970s TV sitcom), I would say it is as if the unfortunate but contented pooch had two acts to elaborate on how “fine” things are, and were.

Long considered by commenters an excellent example of Theatre of the Absurd, “Happy Days” is presented by Clerical Error Productions this weekend (through Feb. 26) at the District Theatre.

Clerical Error founder Kate Duffy is Winnie, just your typical Irish woman who is buried at least to her waist in a burning desert. A bell sounds to awaken her, and another will signal the end of the day. She awakens with a beaming smile and declaration that this is a happy day – as time passes she will, with optimism that borders on delusion, reiterate that the day is indeed happy. She has her routine. She has her black bag. She has her toothbrush. She has her hat, parasol, tonic, lipstick, Brownie the gun, and her music box. She has her song, but best not to sing it too soon.

She also has her husband. Just over the dirt mound is Willie, played with surly patience by David Mosedale. Where she is endlessly talkative, he is a man of few words, or sometimes none at all. Unable to stand, Willie makes his way in and out of his own tunnel. “What a curse, mobility,” Winnie chides him.

One gets a sense that for this couple, and perhaps the world in general, there is little future, so for our lady there is always the past, with frequent reflections on “the old style.” There is the recent memory of their last visitors, and a long-ago story of a girl and a doll.

Among actors, this play is held in the same esteem as Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” and for the same reason: with limited physical action, this becomes the supreme test of a thespian, to engage and hold an audience for two acts with just endless talking. Duffy seems to relish the challenge, and comes through with a performance that draws you in. Directed by Jon Lindley, she accepts and goes with the absurdities in such a way that you come to feel that no matter how odd things get, this is just the way they are. Then, when the next day dawns and things have shifted, you can’t help but feel for her, wish her to have the former weirdness we had grown accustomed to in the first act.  

While observing, it is only natural for us in the audience to try to make sense of it. Beckett’s cleverly vague composition gives room for endless interpretations and metaphors. Hints and clues abound, but resolution? We are left stuck, like Winnie. Perhaps it’s best to just find an answer we are happy with.

For fans of Mr. Beckett, Ms. Duffy, or the curious open to it, this is a fascinating experience. Wendy and I found it quite entertaining – though our tastes do run to the weird, like dogs in hats in ironic webcomics.

The District is at 627 Massachusetts Ave. in downtown Indy. For information and tickets, see ClericalErrorProductions.com or IndyDistrictTheatre.org.