Alexander has been taking Pilates. This is because in the Deep South, as everybody knows, when a gentleman courts a lady, his best plan of attack is to stride confidently deep into the personal space of the lady in question and boldly set his foot atop the piece of furniture nearest her. This is all very simple when the furniture at hand is say, the lip of a fountain or a handily placed settee. Challenges arise, however, when said gentleman abruptly finds himself in the thick of the courting and, frantically scanning the room for a suitable foot rest, finds his options limited to a wheeled desk chair, a refrigerator, or the young lady herself. A suitor’s flexibility could be called into question. Not the case here. Pilates has paid off.
[Side note: the author does not actually know if Alexander has been taking Pilates, and does not really want to think about it.]
Whereas it is very clear that some participants in this production have been doing their level best to prepare- see Thomas Cunningham’s cunning facility with every accent in the world (in this play alone he can be heard speaking in dialects ranging from Eastern Kentucky to Northern Dothraki) and Charley Raintree’s fastidiously groomed and sleekly cemented bangs as examples, some others - mostly named Luke - have obviously been busy doing muscular things in the wings and have therefore forgotten to strike the ghostlight prior to the performance. Tsk tsk tsk. But things swiftly get underway after the commercial before the show (Hulu streaming issue), and we find ourselves transported back in time to a upscale yard sale being held in a park in front of a fountain. Some of the cast has received misinformation that the show tonight is “Equus” and for several scenes sit onstage even though it is not their turn and amuse themselves by pretending to watch fireworks, but one by one, they realize the error and inconspicuously vanish into the wings. With the exception of Charley and Nellie Oleson from “Little House on the Prairie.” Charley was in “Equus,” so this makes sense, but I am puzzled momentarily by Nellie Oleson’s appearance and a bit doubtful that she’s real, but then, sure enough, people begin referring to her as “Nellie” and my instincts are proven correct. I then notice that she is wearing my Tzeitel boots and get a little nostalgic and cranky- those were really good boots- but that’s neither here nor there. The fountain is lovely- I did not have to visit the restroom as I feared I would from listening to the water running- and there is a very striking angel who has either a very small forehead or did a hasty job of putting his wig on.
[Side note: VA Rep is SET for the opening number of “Beauty and the Beast” with that fountain already in existence. That thing is sturdy. They could even use a few live sheep in addition to all the singing and dancing ensemble and Belle. I digress.]
I start to notice the periodic appearances of characters from other stories. There is a small golfer at one point. Anne of Green Gables standing in the shadows downstage right at another. A lady covered entirely in lace with a soothing throaty voice (I don’t know what she’s from), and Vampire Charlotte from “Charlotte’s Web.” When she entered, I was so taken with her costume that I thought, “Who is that?”, and knew I was on the right track because immediately one of the actors asked the very same question. It turns out that Vampire Charlotte was one of the people who was going to do hanky panky with Alexander in the downstage left section of the yard sale later on, but first there was a scene from “The Music Man.”
It seems that the throaty lacy lady believes herself to be the Widow Paroo and insists periodically on recruiting members of the town into re-enacting the Amaryllis piano lesson scene around the piano down-yard sale right. A charming brunette woman has agreed to play Marian and Nellie Oleson does Amaryllis duty. They are just getting ready to launch into “Goodnight, My Someone” when suddenly Thomas storms in and gives lace lady a tongue-lashing because he knows she’s taken the white-plumed hat which belongs to the woman playing Marian the librarian. The lace lady refuses to leave even though she was promised ice cream and, in a frustrated, moss-wiggling huff, Thomas leaves because he moonlights as an umpire and has to get into uniform for the game later that night.
“The Music Man” re-enactment having come to an awkward close, some sort of quilting bee starts taking place in that same area. This is led mostly by Robin Harris who I’ve missed seeing onstage and enjoyed watching as she relished her role of leaning casually against the piano and making caustic commentary.
[Sidenote: it should be mentioned that this is the same piano which fell on top of Chase Kniffen seven hundred years ago during a production of “James Joyce’s The Dead” at Barksdale Willow Lawn. We remained in a blue-out scene shift light long enough for the boys to lift the piano off him while Robyn O’Neill and The Debra Wagoner and I stared and then resumed the play while Chase propped his crushed leg up in the dressing room and Bridget Gethins burned sage to expel the something or others.]
Around this time everyone realizes they are all wearing beige.
I spend some time thinking about the fact that I would only need one marker to draw a full color picture of the Alexander’s Act I costume. The lack of color- while fully period-appropriate- has been frustrating the other characters as well, and- with the exception of Nellie Oleson, whose dress has colors but that’s cheating because she stole it from the wardrobe department of “Little House on the Prairie”- they all start sneaking colorful items into their wardrobes. Marian Paroo, for example, dons a blue skirt! Alexander changes into a tie that matches his skin! Things are really starting to simmer.
Over in the downstage left section of the yard sale, there is a lot of action. Many of the actors have congregated offstage and are competing to see who can win the RTCC Award for “Most Impassioned Off-Stage Left Voice Acting.” Charley is giving serious consideration to purchasing what he thinks may have been Tyrion Lannister’s dressing screen, and some townspeople are starting to feel concern that there are partial doorframes hovering in mid-air.
We learn that the town doctor is well qualified for his job, being a marvel of modern medicine himself as the only known case of a male achieving sexual maturity and fathering a child while still in utero. This is a lot for his son Alexander to live up to, and that pressure coupled with his growing frustration over owning no primary colored articles of clothing, sends him spiraling into a pit of misery. He lies on one of the oriental carpets for awhile then pulls himself together enough to get his hands on a fedora (word has it these are very effective hats) and take Marian Paroo on a date.
The couple visit a lovely little restaurant illuminated by lovely paper lanterns with a lovely view of the volcano visibly erupting just behind them to the left. This doesn’t seem to concern them. They are very wrapped up in the moment and each other. There is even a moment when, thoroughly charmed by Alexander’s arabesque as he leans to kiss her, Marian almost gets carried away! But we are interrupted first by intermission and then by Vampire Charlotte and Thomas and some zesty bullfighting music (which reminds me to get my whip fixed). Things spiral quickly downhill. Charley gets shot, Widow Paroo descends so far into madness she wanders unattended onto the stage eating what is either a snowcone or a cactus, Alexander gets pushed to the brink because Marian the librarian is simply NOT interested in looking at his gross poster.
[Sidenote: the author became so engrossed in the goings-on of the play at this point that she forgot what she was thinking about- well done, all.]
We can rest easy. The town returns to a semblance of normalcy. Alexander is now the doctor,
and operating on a much more even keel though he still harbors feelings of frustration that his doctor coat is plain white- and after all he’s been through. The angel continues to stand sentinel in the middle of his fountain, waiting patiently for all eternity for Paul S. Major to come and fix his wig. And, most of all, “The Music Man” re-enactments resume, sadly without the now institutionalized Widow Paroo, but with the welcome addition of Charley in the role of traveling salesman Charlie Cowell.
We end having learned that- when in emotional distress and high on sleep-aids, always go clubbing with strangers.
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