Critique by Goldfish Publishers Guest Reviewer Jackson Fisher
Reviewed 4/30/05

The Curious Savage
by John Patrick
 Directed by Mark S.P. Turvin
Hale Centre Theatre, Gilbert
(480) 497-1181
April 7th - May 14th, 2005
$16.00 - $18.00

When a theatre critic ventures into the arena of actually directing a show, the potential for artistic havoc is exceptionally high. It’s like a sportswriter deciding to play center field for the Mets. He may know the moves, but being able to execute them is a different talent altogether. Fortunately, critic-turned-director Mark S.P. Turvin has made this transition with aplomb, and while this production is not without its faults, it does provide an evening of theatre that is both enjoyable and engaging.

John Patrick’s The Curious Savage has been a staple of both community and educational theatre for a half century. Set in 1950, the story is far more genteel social commentary than traditional comedy. The plot is straightforward. Ethyl Savage has control of her family’s multi-million dollar estate, and her greedy, inept stepchildren want it for themselves. She wants to use the money to spread joy and happiness; their motivation is pure avarice. Since Ethyl’s behaviour is considered eccentric (by 1950 standards) they have her committed to an asylum – The Cloisters – until she “comes to her senses.” Savage is a tale of Good vs. Evil, and while there are few shades of gray in this black-and-white conflict, there are colours galore.

As the admittedly eccentric Ethyl, Jacqueline Gaston is a gentle joy. Her characterization is subtle yet profound, allowing her to fully explore both the strengths and insecurities of Ethyl’s nature while providing a firm but flexible base for interaction with those who surround her. The story revolves around her, and Gaston is not only up to the task, she uses this pivotal position in a unique way, shining the light of attention not on herself, but on those around her, and the production glows as a result.

As her bitter, self-absorbed children, Rick Shipman, Alaina Beauloye and Michael Hummel are a mixed lot. Shipman’s inept politician is bereft of the bombast traditional in the role, and his accent is frustratingly inconsistent. Beauloye plays the man-eating aspect of Lily Belle well enough, but lacks the grand persona of someone who believes she owns – or, at least should own – the world. Hummel fares the best of the three, adding just enough inner conflict to his performance to make the audience feel that he’s not all bad, and comes across as the most three-dimensional of the children.

No sanatorium, of course, is complete without its staff, and Charles Sohn and Christina Rae Stewart shine as Doctor Emmett and his assistant, Miss Wilhelmina. At first glance, Sohn appears slightly too caricaturistic, but that vision quickly fades as the sincerity of his understated performance comes to the fore. Sincerity, however, is only one aspect of Stewart’s character, which also includes pathos, integrity, professionalism, creativity and, last but certainly not least, true love, all of which were played to perfection. She is an actress to watch.

Without a doubt, however, it is Ethyl’s fellow residents in The Cloisters who inspire the most vivid reactions. These five, colourful characters do not merely live within the confines of their barred world; they bloom like flowers in an Alice in Wonderland garden. As in all gardens, of course, some bloom more vibrantly than others, and in the role of the feisty firecracker Fairy May, Tamra Mathias blossoms brightest. Mathias succeeds in allowing fantasy to run free without running rampant, and despite being festooned with period-perfect cats-eye glasses and a needless series of wig changes, she fills the room with her inner beauty and child-like visions of life.

Also successful in bringing life to their roles are Jere Van Patten as Hannibal and Toby Ambrose as Jeffery. Van Patten is, without a doubt, a large actor, and it would be quite easy for him to play the part of the “displaced accountant” as an over-the-top buffoon. Instead, he and Turvin have focused on the attention to detail that someone whose life has revolved around numbers would naturally have, and this focus helps define a crisp, finely honed characterization. Almost as effective is Ambrose, whose survivor-guilt-laden character is lost in a nether world, searching for purpose after the Second World War. Jeffery is neither flambouyant nor hostile, and Ambrose walks this line gently – albeit sometimes too gently, resulting in a Jeffery who occasionally gets “lost in plain sight” in the midst of the cacophony of personalities that surround him.

As the “house mother” Florence, Marilyn Gibson is easily the least effective of the residents – or “Guests,” as they are known – of The Cloisters. Gibson never quite seems to get a real handle on Florence, and as a result appears stilted and lifeless. Tripping over lines early on in the performance made the audience even more aware of the actress than the character, and the necessary bond that enables the “willing suspension of disbelief” to develop never materialized. As the sullen Mrs. Paddy, Barbara Wood is a paradox within an enigma. Wood’s wondrous facial expressions speak volumes, and her intensity tells a silent-yet-deafening tale of inner angst. During those few moments when she does speak, however, the bile-laden series of “things she hates” comes out not with a glorious explosion of emotion, but instead with all the intensity of someone reciting a grocery list!

Working with a performing area only slightly larger than an average postage stamp, Turvin and his design team have used the space well. Theatre-in-the-round sets are, of necessity, minimalist, and John Autore’s design fills the stage nicely, allowing room for the actors to move about without always tripping over misplaced furniture. The lighting design of David Deitlein, John Favreau and Josh Fowke lacks variety and subtlety of color, but does provide adequate illumination without blinding the audience in the first few rows – always a tricky task in itself. The costumes of Sandy Dietlein, Sandy Bishop and Candace Hughes are spot on – effective without drawing undue attention. Indeed, only two technical aspects cry out for attention. The first is the sound design. Hisses and clicks were easily audible throughout, and when the phone onstage rang, it was painfully evident that the ring was coming from a speaker in the sound booth a good twenty feet away. Second is the mysterious chandelier hanging far above the stage. Far too far from the action to serve any practical purpose, it hung slightly askew and had one burnt-out light. Perhaps this was meant to symbolize the off-kilter world below, but instead served merely as an illuminatory appendix – purposeless and imminently expendable.

As Director, Turvin does particularly well when it comes to framing the action. Indeed, his blocking results in a seeming endless series of wonderful “living portraits” that are neither unnecessarily stilted nor posed, and while the movement between these “portraits” does have some awkward, uneven moments, the overall effect is believable and convincing. Only a few of his artistic choices leaves one wondering, and the most evident is the decision to adorn Ethyl with a fluorescent blue wig that says “circus clown” all over it. True, the script expressly calls for her hair to be blue, but Turvin’s choice of this particularly brazen shade distorts the line that separates character from caricature. Also deserving of attention are the tableaus that Turvin employs to frame the production as a whole. While generally effective when used sparingly – as Turvin does – tableaus offer the audience a unique perspective to linger visually on minute details that might otherwise go unnoticed, and when Jeffery (who is supposed to be a classically trained pianist) plays the “phantom piano” and his hand movement bears little or no resemblance to the music that accompanies the scene, it diminishes the overall effect significantly. The devil, as they say, is in the details.

These, however, are minor problems, and do not distract from the fact that this Savage is “curiously delightful.” Director Turvin, his cast and crew are to be commended for taking on one of the “war horses” of the theatre and infusing it with fresh imagination, charm and a joyous zest for life. If you’ve never experienced The Curious Savage, now is the time, and if you’ve ever been subjected to one of the innumerable bad productions of John Patrick’s classic tale, now is the time to see it the way it was intended to be seen.

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