Family Ties, Secrets and Lies, Tennessee Williams-style, in Festival’s Intense ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’

Family Ties, Secrets and Lies, Tennessee Williams-style, in Festival’s Intense ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’

By Lynn Venhaus

Avarice, malice and mendacity. Those words that Tennessee Williams used so eloquently to imply grown-ups behaving badly in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” demonstrate his brilliant command of the English language. His way with words, referred to as “poetic realism,” is always the most enduring part of his staged plays.

“Living with someone you love can be lonelier than living entirely alone if the one you love doesn’t love you,” says Margaret, aka Maggie the “Cat.”

And thus, Williams struck an abundant gold vein with his reflections on loss and longing, and how we cling to illusions to survive.

In a delectable story of big drama, big money and big lies, Williams has tightly woven a web of deceit, a Southern Gothic excursion into an American dysfunctional family, 1950s style.

At the plantation home of cotton tycoon Big Daddy (Peter Mayer), the Pollitt family is gathered for his 65th birthday celebration. He and his wife, Big Mama (Kari Ely), think he’s free of cancer but the real diagnosis is dire. Things unravel from there, with secrets and revelations in rapid succession over the course of an evening.

The mood is a seething, simmering stew of sexual desire, spurned affection, power trips, greed, toxic relationships and lies they tell each other.

One of Williams’ most popular works, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 1955 and has received multiple revivals on Broadway over the years, including a 2013 staging with Scarlett Johansson as Maggie, and a 1990 version with Kathleen Turner.

Times change, rendering some of his subjects quaint and old-fashioned, but his characters always make a lasting impression even when the social mores he highlights are no longer as consequential or controversial. With his unmistakable vivid writing, he captures a specific time and place like few have.

Williams turned his short story, “Three Players of a Summer Game,” into this classic gem, which supposedly was his personal favorite. The play was adapted into a 1958 film starring Elizabeth Taylor and Paul Newman that earned six Oscar nominations including Best Picture. Granted, they cast a big shadow.

Photo by Suzy Gorman.

In a unique approach by director Michael Wilson, the narrative unfolds as a deliberately theatrical setting.

He has created a prologue where local treasure J. Samuel Davis appears in the audience as “The Writer,” telling of a young Tom “Tennessee” Williams’ early years working at the International Shoe Company in St. Louis and taking the ‘stairs to the roof’ (the name of his first play) to write his short stories.

The ensemble, dressed in black as stagehands, brings the set pieces on stage, and the play begins as they return as the troubled Pollitts.

Not that I know this for certain, but Wilson appeared to pay homage to the way Williams worked with his longtime director-collaborator Elia Kazan, in what they described as “plastic theatre,” in which they heightened awareness of events to open the audience to more abstract ideas.

James Wolk’s evocative set seems dream-like on the fringes, and nightmarish in the claustrophobic bedroom. Williams did allude to ghosts, and people who lived there before – as evident in a hanging portrait. Lighting designer Matt McCarthy adds to the ethereal mood.

The epochal Maggie is a smart, scrappy, stunningly beautiful debutante who grew up poor and married into a family of money. She has been hardened by the in-laws’ power-grabbing chess games, but she has learned to swim in a sea of sharks and will fight for what she thinks she deserves.

Her handsome all-American football hero husband Brick has decayed into a numb alcoholic who doesn’t care about anyone or anything.

Reeling from his best friend Skipper’s suicide, Brick is consumed by despair, regrets and rumors. He appears repulsed by his wife, which seems to aggravate her desire for attention. His busybody family knows every detail of the childless couple’s personal life – or think they do.

Photo by Suzy Gorman.

In a long scene that establishes their marital discord, Maggie prattles on, trying to engage her distant husband in conversation, but we can tell this is going to be a fruitless attempt. Resembling a young Natalie Wood (who starred in Williams’ film adaptation “This Property Is Condemned), actress Kiah McKirnan rushed through her opening lines and was difficult to understand.

However, she gets more forceful in acts two and three as tension mounts, and she needs to make her moves to secure her future.

Wearing the provocative iconic white satin slip recreated by costume designer Teresa Doggett, and moving gracefully, McKirnan appears to be the archetypal Maggie.

Slaten’s Brick doesn’t say much or move like a former athlete, but with a broken ankle and one crutch, he capably navigates the bed-sitting room, his hobbled body betraying him, and his pain palpable.

His outbursts are well-timed for maximum impact. This is a difficult role because of calibrating external and internal conflicts, and while Slaten doesn’t look like the stereotypical golden boy turned disappointment, he delivers the intensity.

Once upon a time, the couple must have been like the idealized bride and groom figurines on top of a wedding cake. But those days are long gone – and they both realize it, which tinges this play with sadness.

When Mayer arrives on stage as the bombastic Big Daddy, the show kicks into high gear. He throws his whole body into this role with impressive gusto. The interactions between the blustery braggart and his favorite son are the best in this production, and his profane rants against family members are welcome comic relief.

Surprisingly, he has tender advice for Brick: “One thing you can grow on a big place like this more important than cotton—is tolerance—I have grown it.” There appears to be real affection between the two.

Slaten and Mayer. Photo by Suzy Gorman

Mayer is matched in intensity by Kari Ely as Big Mama, adding more emotional depth than the role is written. It’s a pleasure to see such local legends play off each other on stage – as they are married in real life.

Ely, who has been unforgettable as tough women Martha in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”, Regina in “The Little Foxes,” and Violet in “August: Osage County,” all at the St. Louis Actors’ Studio, makes this role her own, bringing out the heartbreak and strength of a character that had been easily dismissed before. Their performances are the chef’s kiss of this production, and set the rhythm in motion.

Eric Dean White, whose consistent professionalism makes him a terrific addition to any local stage, is superb as the calculating, scheming Gooper, a slick lawyer who tag teams with his devious wife Mae, aka “Sister Woman,” to block out his brother Brick and Maggie from inheriting Big Daddy’s massive estate. His delivery is smooth and shrewd.

Roxanne Wellington nails the vindictive and insincere opportunist Mae, conveying an ugly sanctimonious streak. She must get this crack in: “He never carried a thing in his life but a football and a highball,” adding a fake laugh.

They are the indulgent parents of the notorious “no-neck monsters” that get on Maggie’s last nerve. Youngsters Kate Koppel, Tatum Wilson, and Cooper Scheessele are lively in their portrayals of three of their five children (and one is on the way).

Maggie displays some humor too, retorting: “Dixie, Trixie, Buster, Sonny, Polly! —sounds like four dogs and a parrot … animal acts at a circus.”

Photo by Suzy Gorman

Davis returns as a doctor and a minister in supporting roles.

Wilson, who is reverent regarding Williams, directed the acclaimed Cicely Tyson-starring “The Trip to Bountiful” on Broadway in 2013, and the subsequent film a year later. He benefits from a potent ensemble who understands the defining message is that people are better together than apart.

Unfortunately, in a play that talks so much about communication, the Grandel’s sound system was a hindrance on the left side, so I recommend sitting right or center. None of the performers are wearing microphones in that small thrust stage space. Sitting on the left side, in the seventh row, on opening night, I had difficulty hearing, especially because the cast is often staged in profile.

The sound issues have happened before at The Grandel, as a production of “Kinky Boots” last summer by Tesseract Theatre Company, was marred. This is always a shame because obviously much attention went into the production details. Perhaps sound designer Phillip Evans can crack the code.

In a conscientious retelling of one of Williams’ best works that emphasizes his compassion for misfits and fragile souls, we are reminded of his impact on storytelling and our broader view of the world.

In their ninth year, the Tennessee Williams Festival St. Louis furthers their commitment to celebrate the artistry and influence of the playwright who called St. Louis home during his formative years.

Photo by Suzy Gorman

The Tennessee Williams Festival St. Louis presents “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” from Aug. 8 to Aug. 18 at The Grandel Theatre in Grand Center, with performances at 7 p.m. Thursday through Saturday, and Sunday matinees at 3 p.m. Tickets are on sale through Metrotix. Additional information and Festival event details can be found at twstl.org.

Post-show commentary will be conducted by Resident Scholar, Tom Mitchell, on Sunday, Aug. 12 and Thursday Aug.15.

Parking: Guest parking is available at the Fox Garage for $5 (3637 Washington Ave, St. Louis, MO 63108). Please, tell the attendant you are with the Tennessee Williams Festival to receive a discount.

Fierce Performances Elevate Masterpiece ‘August: Osage County’

Fierce Performances Elevate Masterpiece ‘August: Osage County’

By Lynn Venhaus

Tracy Letts’ “August: Osage County” retains all its dark edges, biting wit and unflinching truths in a brilliantly acted and thoroughly engrossing interpretation by The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis that enhances its stature as one of the great American plays.

Produced 17 years after its blistering and probing landmark premiere at the Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago in 2007, the Pulitzer Prize and Tony-winning play taps into the raw emotions of a family scorched by addiction and dysfunction.

A brittle mosaic of family dynamics exposes how nearly all have been burned by their white-hot proximity to drug abuse, emotional abuse, alcoholism, unhealthy relationships, and mental health issues.

(I think more people can relate than may admit, but also the play can be triggering for some, so warning, and understandable; there are resources to call listed at the Rep.)

To play these distinctive, damaged characters, this seamless large cast (13!) has developed an admirable rhythm with each other that shows facets of their personalities while revealing their vulnerabilities and coping mechanisms. They are fooling only themselves (and are they that unaware?)

Ellen McLaughlin is Violet Weston. Photo by Jon Gitchoff

Because of Letts’ extraordinary insight into the human condition and his exceptionally nimble dialogue, these are some of the meatiest roles of the new millennium.

“They” always say write what you know, and Letts based this play on his maternal grandparents. Charlie Chaplin once said, “Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long shot,” and Letts knows that all too well. He is also a gifted humorist, seeing life from both sides.

A window into his family’s soul, Letts skillfully outlined characters that these well-cast current actors have shaded into fully dimensional people that make us think, feel, and connect – and recoil, disengage from, and are horrified by, too.

The ensemble does not strive for black-and-white definitions, but rather leans towards the more fascinating gray areas, which make their thoughtful, layered performances convincing.

Front and center is the ferocious, drug-addled matriarch Violet, who reminds everyone ‘nothing gets by’ her but is often in such a stupor from popping prescription painkillers that she is most unpleasant to deal with in any meaningful way. Suffering from mouth cancer, she is also a heavy drinker and smoker. Her paranoia and mood swings are alarming, and she often cruelly targets anyone in her radar.

The Westons and Aikens. Photo by Jon Gitchoff

Sometimes, she waits until she can unleash the hurt for maximum effect. Ravaged by her demons, visible are the metaphorical open wounds from an impoverished, abusive childhood that will never heal.

Ellen McLaughlin’s virtuoso performance as this complicated wife, mother, sister, and vicious addict left me in awe. She flawlessly bristles with various degrees of impairment, then rambles or snipes, all in a rural Southwest accent. She’s haunting and unforgettable, among the pantheon of astounding actresses who have graced The Rep’s thrust stage.

The role, in many ways, can be compared to Mary Tyrone in Eugene O’Neill’s magnum opus “Long Day’s Journey into Night,” published posthumously in 1956, which dared to address a matriarch’s addiction and its ripple effect on a family.

The main story is that Violet’s husband, Beverly (Joneal Joplin), an alcoholic poet and former college professor, has gone missing. Their 30-year toxic relationship has resulted in two of their three daughters escaping to live elsewhere –Barbara (Henny Russell) in Colorado and Karen (Yvonne Woods) in Florida. Ivy (Claire Karpen) stayed in their small town but lives on her own.

After several days go by, family members return to the fold, with fireworks ensuing in a large country home outside Pawhuska, Okla., 60 miles northwest of Tulsa. The time period is a hot dusty August 2007.

Henny Russell and Michael James Reed. Photo by Jon Gitchoff

The adult daughters are played by three equally strong actresses, and even if you didn’t know what order they were in, you’d figure it out quickly – Barbara, the controlling eldest can’t keep her own life from falling apart (fight); Ivy, the unfulfilled middle child (froze); and self-absorbed Karen (flight). They are all keeping secrets about their relationships. Their family hierarchy roars here.

Barbara is separated from Bill (Michael James Reed), a college professor whose infidelity has caused a riff, but they are going through the motions in front of the family. They have brought their 14-year-old daughter Jean (Isa Venere) along, and she’s ready to burst out of a cocoon like most teenage girls.

In a mother-daughter chat, Barbara wisely tells Jean: “Thank God we can’t tell the future, or we’d never get out of bed.” It’s just one of Letts’ lines of astute dialogue that the audience responds to, recognizing themselves.

Bill is an ingrained family member, clearly respected by Violet, and considered a rock by others, and Reed straddles that turmoil without losing Bill’s humanity. Tightly wound Russell immediately indicates Barbara’s lifelong pattern of confrontations with her overbearing mother.

Breezing in from Miami, flighty Karen has a new fiancé in tow, thrice-married Steve (Brian Slaten), giving off a vibe as a player — yet Slaten takes his time bringing out his inner creep. Woods, as Karen, appears to not grasp the seriousness of the family’s despair (or is unwilling to do so).

Sean Wiberg and Claire Karpen. Photo by Jon Gitchoff

Introverted Ivy shields her personal life, and Karpen heartbreakingly expresses how disconnected she is from her sisters. Violet is always finding fault with her actions and appearance.

The Aikens arrive, and they are the Westons’ extended family. Hardened Mattie Fae (Astrid Van Wieren) is Violet’s blustery sister, and she’s nagged Charlie (Alan Knoll) over the years. He’s a decent guy who puts up with a lot, valued Beverly’s friendship. Their downtrodden son, Little Charles (Sean Wiberg), incurs Mattie Fae’s ire at every opportunity while Charlie sticks up for his sensitive boy.

Van Wieren and Knoll are remarkably sturdy in their roles, bringing out qualities I hadn’t noticed in three prior productions. Knoll is the lynchpin here, and it’s such a deftly delivered performance, crisp in its comic timing, and gut-wrenching in its ruefulness. Long a veteran actor, this just may be Knoll’s finest hour (or three).

Van Wieren may look familiar if you have seen “Come from Away” on Broadway (or the Apple TV+ filmed production) – she played Beulah starting in 2017. She shows how loudly Mattie Fae’s buttons are pushed, but also why she’s like she is.

The observer here is quiet but smart Johnna (Shyla Lefner), a kind and considerate Native American woman from the Cheyenne tribe, who Beverly hired as a live-in housekeeper. She becomes a steadfast, reliable presence, witness to the never-ending dramas, and intervening only when necessary. Nonjudgmental, she endures Violet’s haughty diatribes and harsh commentary.

Henny Russell and Isa Venere. Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

In the brief role of Sheriff Deon Gilbeau, Barbara’s old high school boyfriend, David Wassilak, makes it his own with clear-eyed compassion.

This cast is so riveting that you do not feel the play’s 3-hour and 20-minute runtime. When the second intermission happened, I thought “already?” That’s how enthralling this show is.

Directed by Amelia Acosta Powell, she understands the agitations and anguish of this family, and brings out the many levels of pain. There is a specific ebb and flow she achieves, and what culminates in the disruptive family dinner post-memorial service is one of the all-time jaw-dropping segments in live theater.

I do have a few quibbles about blocking, particularly building intensity between Barbara and Violet – I prefer a closer proximity to be more effective, but it shows how a family that ignores the elephant in the room will always have it blow up in their faces at some point.

The Americana musical interludes composed by Avi Amon help establish the setting, while Amanda Werre’s smooth and perceptible sound design is her customary top-notch work. At first, lighting designer Xavier Pierce’s work was too dark, but gradually evened out according to the action, and the shadows are an extension of the house’s buried secrets.

Venere, Russell, Reed and Brian Slaten. Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

Scenic Designer Regina Garcia fashioned a large interior, with some exterior nooks, using classic American furniture, but the shingles on a portion of the rooms inside were puzzling (I know, imagery, not literal)..

Sonia Alvarez’s contemporary costume design for casual attire suits the characters and the period, and the mourning outfits are spot-on, especially Violet’s black dress – reflecting what she used to look like before hard living took its toll. Noteworthy is Alison Hora’s wig design too.

Also notable is Michael Pierce’s fight choreography and Rachel Tibbetts’ and Will Bonfiglio’s intimacy coordinator work.

Shakespearean in tone and temperament, but truly an American masterpiece for the 21st century, Letts’ ruminations on life’s passages, aging, blood ties, and identity above all reflect on humanism.

While families can pour their own gasoline on deep-rooted issues without any assistance in real-life (and there are those who don’t see the need to pick at the scabs of their past), this retelling has an energy and an electricity that only the most genuine experiences can achieve, catharsis optional.

Letts has superbly blended the sharp wit of an observational humorous sitcom/stand-up special with the emotional turbulence of lively soap operas to expertly craft a relatable family in crisis.

Gloria Steinem said, “the healing is in the telling,” and it is my hope “August: Osage County” reaches people who may be in a painful place, who may leave with a modicum of hope, because if anything, we are not alone.

And no matter how regretful or defeated others are by their actions, the play says they are not us, and that trajectory can change. The Weston-Aiken clan holds a mirror up that is sharply in focus.

Shyla Lefner, McLaughlin and Russell in front. Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis presents “August: Osage County” from March 19 to April 7 at the Loretto-Hilton Center, 130 Edgar Road, St. Louis.

Tickets: Purchase tickets online at Repstl.org, by phone at 314-968-4925, or The Rep Box Office will also be available for in-person support at the Loretto-Hilton Center Tuesdays and Wednesdays from 10:30 a.m. – 5 p.m. and 2 hours before curtain.
Rush Tickets: Available for students, seniors, educators, and theatre professionals by calling the Box Office at 314-968-4925, 1 – 2 hours prior to curtain time.

Audio-Described Performance: Thursday, April 4 at 7 pm – the show will be described for patrons who are blind or have low vision.

ASL Performance: Saturday, March 30 at 4 pm – the show will be signed for the deaf or hard of hearing.

Open-Captioned Performance: Sunday, April 7 at 2 pm – an electronic text ticker displays words being spoken or sung onstage.

Post Show Discussions follow Saturday, March 30 at 4 pm and Wednesday, April 3 at 2 pm performances.

Mesmerizing Performances in The Rep’s Heartfelt ‘Gruesome Playground Injuries’

Mesmerizing Performances in The Rep’s Heartfelt ‘Gruesome Playground Injuries’

By Lynn Venhaus

Funny, sad, poignant and personal, “Gruesome Playground Injuries” is the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis’ impressive return to the Steve Woolf Studio series, renowned for its adventurous programming for years.

It’s an accomplished production of Rajiv Joseph’s 2009 two-character drama featuring raw and affecting performances from Brian Slaten and Jessika D. Williams, who will break your heart as damaged souls Doug and Kayleen.

The year is 1983 and they meet as eight-year-olds in their parochial school infirmary. He’s a daredevil prone to accidents that get more series as time goes by and she’s waylaid by a sensitive stomach – her mother blames it on “bad thoughts” – and her internal wounds progress to self-harm and substance abuse.

Both outsiders, their lives intersect for the next 30 years, while they wrestle with their feelings.

With his keen wit and sharp emotional insight into the human condition, Joseph brings the friends back together – even with long stretches apart. It’s complicated – and compelling. They may be a lifeline, but they exasperate each other, push people away in a cruel world, and from their perspective, connecting isn’t so easy.

Adulting is hard, we know. Life happens. Friends move, get different jobs, start and end other relationships, raise families. But the ones we maintain ties with become a special part of the fabric of our lives. And the ones we reconnect with, after drifting part, that opportunity is a great tonic – and we know that feeling. It’s universal.

“Gruesome Playground Injuries” evokes those friendship memories. It’s obviously more complex with Doug and Kayleen, who learn they can’t heal each other, but they can provide sustenance.

A finalist for the Pulitzer Prize for Drama for his outstanding 2009 play “Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo,” Joseph crafts fully dimensional characters, flaws and all.

Jessika D Williams, Brian Slaten Photo by Philip Hamer

In this nonlinear narrative, the pals’ encounters are rather unusual, through early teens, 20s and 30s, with the actors revealing more emotional depth each time. Every rueful scene deals with pain, both physical and psychological. They ask each other: “Does it hurt?”

Slaten inhabits the hyper and impulsive Doug with an appealing goofball energy while Williams unmasks a guarded person concealing internal scars but can’t hide the darkness within.  Director Becks Redman emphasizes the characters’ vulnerability.

The pair is on stage the entire time, never out of sight, and they change clothes on opposite sides. The simple outfits selected by costume designer Carolyn Mazuca reflect the various time periods in their lives.

The production’s technical design work is also superb, with an interesting monochromatic set of multi-purpose shapes by scenic designer Diggle. The actors move pieces around to create their settings – efficient and functional spaces doubling for interiors and outside. Lighting designer Anshuman Bhatia also gives the characters a sense of place and enhances the mood.

David Gomez’ soulful instrumental composition adds a mournful tone, reflecting on missed opportunities and regrets. Sound designer Kareem Deanes’ crisp work excels in the black box space.

Post-pandemic, this play resonates even more than in the before times. We have acutely felt the isolation of social distancing and loss of human connection through time and distance. We have fought similar battles separately and together the past three years.

With mesmerizing performances and a director desiring to bring out parallel lines we can relate to, this production aims straight for the heart and achieves a bulls-eye. It makes us think and feel about how people make their marks on our lives.

Photo by Philip Hamer.

The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis is presenting “Gruesome Playground Injuries” in the return of Steve Woolf Studio series from April 14 through May 13 at the Strauss Black Box Theatre in the Kirkwood Performing Arts Center, 210 E Monroe Ave, Kirkwood, Mo.

The show runs 80 minutes without intermission. House doors will open 30 minutes before the show starts to begin seating. Please plan to arrive accordingly as this show is general admission. Concessions will be available to purchase before the show. They are only able to accept debit/credit cards.  There is a free lot for parking directly behind the theatre on W Monroe Ave. and S Fillmore Ave. Additional free parking is available on adjacent streets.

For tickets or for more information, visit www.repstl.org