The Long Christmas Ride Home
⊆ December 5th, 2006 by lorraine treanor | ˜
The Long Christmas Ride Home
by Paula Vogel
Produced by Studio Theatre
Reviewed by Debbie Minter
The play’s the thing in this stylized piece that begins like it ends, with the haunting lonely notes of a Japanese flute. Master musician Sumie Kaneko sets the stage, underscores the action, even down to the sound effects of a character pounding hysterically on his x-lover’s door. Her stringed instrumentals, percussion and vocals support the entire production, complement the wrenching emotional scenes, and even serve as prologue and epilogue, commanding attention and sustaining the mood long after the actors’ final bow.
In a way, the breath is also the thing. All of the characters make a point of taking deep cleansing breaths when preparing to take actions, cope and sometimes recoup from life’s twists and blows. If you take the collective deep breath as requested by the main character Stephen, well played by Kevin Bergen, and clear your mind of the traditional and usual, there’s a chance of being mesmerized by the tale that Vogel and director Serge Seiden have conjured up, beautifully supported by the Zen-invoking set, designed by Daniel Conway and Japanese block art throughout the print media. The artistic team skillfully used every theatrical device imaginable to transport the audience to a different sensibility.
In the first part, the puppets are the thing, exquisitely crafted by puppetmaker Aaron Cromie, distinctively articulated and costumed, taking on mannerisms and individuality. At one point, I caught myself quickly checking one of the puppet’s “reaction” to what was going on in a scene. Interestingly, they become as real as the actors who pick up the action, and are sometimes even more engaging and interesting.
Vogel uses other stylistic devices with ease such as having the actors narrate the story while “voicing’ the puppets. Laura Giannerelli as Woman/Mother and Paul L. Nolan as Man/Father were particularly effective sitting on a bench serving as front seat of their beat-up old reliable family car at the beginning of the tale. Giannerelli is immediately sympathetic as the long-suffering wife of a philandering husband musing about ways to reclaim his attention and affection. Although the church scene might be more ploy and device to showcase and herald the gorgeous and enjoyable puppetry than serve a true theatrical storyline purpose, that fine line is debatable. What’s sure is Bobby Smith’s solid footing as Minister and later as dancer, diversion or not.
Another stylistic devise is the emergence of the actors from anonymity of puppeteers to take on the roles and voices of their puppets. It’s a fascinating concept, but it’s here of all places where the piece sags a bit from it’s own creative weight. The actors are saddled with monologues relating information about themselves and their experiences. Plus, they seem to have emerged from nowhere replacing the adorable “children” who in a way, we have come to know and care about more. Stephen’s exploits, his sisters’ lives, their quests for love and promise just do not match the touching hilarity of their young inanimate counterparts jostling in the back seat of the car ducking puke, yearning for Father’s affection, or attending to a neglected Mom. The car accident finale seems to be Vogel’s stylistic attempt at dramatic tension by blending the past and present, coming full circle, informing the future by uncovering the past, and showing why the sisters had such a fiercely loyal devotion to their brother.
The Long Christmas Ride Home is stunningly original, incorporating the style and tone of a far away land, Bunraku puppetry, song, and even a brief dance sequence choreographed by the amazing Dana Tai Soon Burgess. It’s an ambitious piece wrapped like a gorgeous Christmas present under a tree, that deserves to be opened and tried on to see if it fits – if it doesn’t, you can always take a deep breath and open something else.
The Long Christmas Ride Home plays through December 24th at Studio’s Methany Theater,
