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- <text id=89TT1292>
- <title>
- May 15, 1989: Bowing Out With A Flourish
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1989
- May 15, 1989 Waiting For Washington
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- THEATER, Page 87
- Bowing Out with a Flourish
- </hdr><body>
- <p>The season ends with works evoking families and everyday magic
- </p>
- <p>By William A. Henry III
- </p>
- <qt> <l>APPROACHING ZANZIBAR</l>
- <l>by Tina Howe</l>
- </qt>
- <p> A vacationing family meets a boy in the Blue Ridge
- Mountains willing to take a group snapshot. He turns out to be
- a deaf-mute astrological visionary. High up in the Smokies, the
- menopausal mother of the family keeps hearing a baby crying out
- in the woods. After she leaves the tent, the audience hears it
- too. The family tumbles into its car outside a diner near
- Amarillo, Texas, and resumes squabbling, only this time father
- and daughter swap roles and accustomed dialogue, and so do
- mother and son. The elders squeak about needing a bathroom
- break. The children trade curses about whose bad idea this
- adventure was, anyway. Then they screech off into the night,
- ostensibly with a grade-schooler in command of the steering
- wheel.
- </p>
- <p> As the family huddles around the Taos, N. Mex., bedside of
- an aged aunt to hear her final addled reverie of childhood, the
- dying woman whisks off a grizzled wig to reveal blond locks,
- sits bolt upright and brays delightedly at having sneaked in one
- last prank. At the sight of this transformation, the daughter's
- attitude shifts from terror to wonder. Moments later, she and
- the dying woman are jumping on the bed as though it were a
- trampoline, mingling the old one's romantic memories with the
- child's geography game in exultant shouts of "Zanzibar!
- Zanzibar!"
- </p>
- <p> What do these increasingly fantastical scenes mean? The
- audience may never be quite sure, but one thing is certain:
- playwright Tina Howe, overpraised in the past for her wan Wasp
- tone poems (Painting Churches, Coastal Disturbances), has
- infused new energy into her work. At the same time, she has
- sustained her gift for hinting at profound meanings in humdrum
- moments. To Howe, the eternal in life is clearest in its
- ephemerality; the memories that haunt us to the end of our days
- are of the most ordinary, and thus revealing, events.
- </p>
- <p> Howe has always had an ear for plausible conversation and
- a keen eye for the elegiac beauty of the everyday. Blending them
- with the subtly magical in Approaching Zanzibar at last relieves
- her work of a seeming pettiness and dullness. In the production
- that opened off-Broadway last week, she is aided by a superb
- cast, including Jane Alexander and Harris Yulin as the parents
- and Bethel Leslie as the dying aunt -- all established stars who
- delicately avoid star turns -- and the exceptional Clayton
- Barclay Jones and Angela Goethals as the children. Heidi
- Landesman's brilliantly simple sets fill a postage-stamp stage
- with bits of cloth to create a mountain, a river, a campsite and
- a twinkling night sky, capturing not physical essence but
- distilled recollection. The entire event is ethereal yet
- spellbinding.
- </p>
- <qt> <l>ARISTOCRATS</l>
- <l>by Brian Friel</l>
- </qt>
- <p> Social standing is always relative. To the hardscrabble
- peasants down in the Irish village of Ballybeg, the clan in the
- big house on the hill is the nobility. But at Ballybeg Hall the
- members of that gilded tribe are keenly aware of a wider world
- and their piddling place in it. They glamourize the past: a
- tatty cushion or tarnished candlestick becomes an heirloom by
- reason of a (probably fictitious) anecdotal link to some bygone
- celebrity. They embroider the dismal present. They deny the
- looming future of dissolution and dispersal.
- </p>
- <p> If all this sounds like the umpteenth rewrite of Chekhov's
- The Cherry Orchard, the best defense Brian Friel might offer for
- his superb play, now off-Broadway, is that his characters seem
- Chekhovian only because they are so candid and self-aware.
- Kaiulani Lee is the older sister who sacrificed by staying home
- to tend to her father, Haviland Morris the sister who opted to
- marry for money, Margaret Colin the one who drowned herself in
- the Molotov cocktail of alcohol laced with utter honesty. John
- Pankow excels as the village lad who romanced each girl in turn,
- settled for the one who would have him, and went on to a
- diplomatic career that eclipses the golden clan's luster in
- every mind but the one that counts: his own.
- </p>
- <p> Against these plangent strings of personality is the oboe
- howl and twitter of Niall Buggy as the only son, a pixilated
- and desperate man steeped in family lore who nonetheless bolted
- half a continent away. For him and his kin, heritage is a cruel
- joke masquerading as an oracle.
- </p>
- <qt> <l>LARGELY NEW YORK</l>
- <l>by Bill Irwin</l>
- </qt>
- <p> Performance artist. New vaudevillian. Silent clown. However
- you label limber-jointed Bill Irwin, he is one of the most
- winsome presences in the American theater. In the sketchbook
- Largely New York, which opened on Broadway last week, he wears
- a top hat and spectacles, carries a white cane and resembles an
- elongated Jiminy Cricket. All around him are people he might
- befriend, if only he could break through their obsessive
- isolation with entertainment machines -- a Walkman, a boom box,
- a video camera, a TV monitor. Irwin himself carries a remote
- control, purportedly hooked up to the tiers of curtains onstage
- and the sound system that sporadically blares Tea for Two while
- he attempts a soft-shoe.
- </p>
- <p> Not much happens during these 70 sweetly silly minutes:
- pratfalls and swan dives, break dancers accosted, a girl lost
- and maybe won. Some technology-inspired images are new -- Irwin
- silently screams from inside a TV until someone vacuums up his
- video image and expels it into an old trunk, from which the
- lanky actor unfolds -- but the show owes a lot to Chaplin and
- Harpo, Jacques Tati and Marcel Marceau. Still, they are the
- people to copy, and Irwin surely has the gift.
- </p>
-
- </body></article>
- </text>
-
-