Reckoning ‘The Price’ in Bloomington

By John Lyle Belden

Playwright Arthur Miller is having a moment in Indiana this year. We recently had a production of “The Crucible” in Indy, and the show about the “Salesman” is opening in Westfield (watch for our take on that next week).

Meanwhile, the Jewish Theatre of Bloomington presents one of Miller’s lesser-produced plays, “The Price,” an emotionally gripping drama inspired in part by his own family.

How do you catalog a life, or even one that might have been? In 1968, Victor Franz (Jonathan Golembiecki), an NYPD Sargeant turning 50 and considering retirement – which would thrill his wife, Esther (Abby Lee) – is faced with needing to move or sell his late father’s belongings. The man had died years earlier, but these things were kept in an attic of a building about to be condemned. The items mostly date back to when the family lost their fortune in the 1929 Wall Street crash, left there largely ignored while the Franzes struggled through the Great Depression.

Victor and Esther are meeting with an appraiser, Gregory Solomon (Ken Farrell), to discuss a price to take the entire lot. There is some concern that Victor’s estranged brother Walter (Stephen Hunt), a very successful doctor and researcher, will show up to demand his half of the estate, but calls to him have gone unanswered. Naturally, he will be making an appearance midway through the play.

It’s that simple, and that complex.

“It’s impossible to know what’s important,” Victor says. While Solomon insists they concentrate on actual value over sentiment, it is difficult to price these decades-old artifacts – a harp, a gramophone, a fencing foil, a shiny evening gown or even the hardwood dresser it hangs in. Still, that which most needs to be settled is not financial. Walter’s success has come at its own dear price, and Victor is calling the debt.

One critique when this premiered on Broadway was that there was too much talking, but this drama has a lot to say. In the skilled hands of this cast, directed by Dale McFadden, we are fully engaged in this conversation, sparking with sibling tension while leavened with a bit of dry Jewish humor.

Golembiecki delivers an excellent performance of a man nearly paralyzed by uncertainty. His own life is at a decision point while dealing with the consequences of past changes. Coupled with the reintroduction of his brother, he is reminded of what could have been a different and perhaps better life. Instead he chose a life of service to others, and especially his father – was he a fool to do so?

Lee presents a woman growing impatient with her husband’s reluctance, desiring that things will finally break their way. Still underneath her tension is a fierce devotion, and love.

Hunt’s Walter keeps us off balance regarding the expectations we are given of his character. He appears to struggle with a recently found need to develop a sense of empathy, to reconcile his great success with one who sacrificed. His assertive ego only lets him change so much, if it is genuine at all.

Farrell is solid, giving perspective and humorous relief while floating lightly above Jews-and-money stereotypes. He demands respect while seeking not to offend so that in the end, everyone gets a deal they can walk away from.

A vital part of this production is the attic set, neatly surrounded by put-away furnishings and reminders of the past, brilliantly arranged by set designer Bobby Ayala Perez with prop masters Danielle Bruce and Nicole Bruce. Through this, the spirits of the Franz parents seem to haunt the surroundings.

While the laughter is mostly on a nearly-forgotten novelty record, there is a kind of enjoyment from seeing such a notable drama so well performed. Remaining performances are Saturday and Sunday, Nov. 15-16, in Rose Firebay in The Waldron Arts Center, 122 S. Walnut St., Bloomington.

Get info and tickets at jewishtheatrebloomington.com.

Review: Civil War comedy works

By John Lyle Belden

NOTE: Review also appears online with The Word (www.theygayword.com).

The most entertaining lesson this Black History Month only has one February weekend of performances, the comic drama “Butler” at Indy’s Phoenix Theatre through Sunday. It is also an important insight into the struggle to bring about the end of slavery, or to at least give African Americans some long-denied dignity.

Lawyer turned Union Army General Benjamin Franklin Butler (played by Stephen Hunt, who perfectly resembles historical photos of Butler), takes command of a fortress that by a fluke of geography is the only piece of Virginia still belonging to the North during the Civil War. As he’s settling in, he receives word of escaped slaves, led by Shepard Malloy (Ramon Hutchins), who insists on speaking to the General.

The opening scene, mainly a conversation between Butler and one of his junior officers (Brandon Alstott), helps set the tone for this play. We get a feel for Butler’s gruff personality and though his agitation over seemingly small details seems eccentric, we find ourselves “astonished” at how well it sets up the dry but sharp comedy of later scenes.

Hutchins is exceptional in a very complex role. His Malloy yearns for freedom, yet his intellect and impulsiveness make him his own worst enemy in a world where people like him aren’t allowed to get in the last word. Yet in one-on-one conversations with Butler, their verbal sparring challenges each other as well as the audience, even while extracting welcome yet un-guilty laughter.

Doug Powers appears as a Confederate Major sent to fetch the escaped slaves, ironically citing the laws of the Union his state was seceding from to compel Butler to return them to his custody. It is in this situation that the Union General reverts to lawyer mode and comes up with a loophole to keep Malloy and his companions in the fort. Note this is based on true events, including the legal means by which Butler manages to hold on to the “property” of a Southern slaveowner.

If an uplifting Civil War comedy can happen, anything is possible. See for yourself Feb. 4-7. Call 317-635-7529 or see phoenixtheatre.org.