Miss-Delectable
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‘Lonely’ outcasts a multi-layered feast at Steppenwolf - Chicago Sun-Times
You might expect a small, racially segregated, Bible Belt mill town in Depression-era Georgia to have an intense concentration of conformity. But in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, her 1940 career-making first novel, Carson McCullers, like many Southern writers, revealed such places to be among the greatest hotbeds of eccentricity — hidden outposts for what one of her characters bluntly describes as “freaks.”
Of course no one who has ever made it through adolescence (or life in general), has not felt freakish at one moment or another. So McCullers’ novel, adapted for the stage by Rebecca Gilman, is a natural entry into the Steppenwolf for Young Adults program, the project designed primarily for school group audiences that also schedules weekend shows for an enthusiastic general public.
The town at the center of McCullers’ story is full of such outcasts, including two deaf-mutes: The kind-hearted John Singer (Robert Schleifer, a deaf actor of quiet eloquence who signs and “notates” his lines), a jewelry engraver who appears to have a private income, and who might be a Jew, and his longtime roommate, Antonapoulos (Jay Reed), a younger fellow who does menial work at a relative’s store until he becomes troublesome and is sent to live in a mental institution. Once alone, Singer becomes the unofficial town listener — a sounding board for many of its other lonely, troubled souls.
Mick Kelly (Jessica Honor Carleton, a most winning mix of the gawky, the natural and the impulsive), is the smart, curious, restless, money-strapped girl of 14 who is teetering awkwardly on the brink of womanhood. Passionate about music, with dreams of being a composer, she befriends, and is befriended by Singer, who lives at the boarding house run by her dad (Alan Wilder). She also is tentatively pursued by the smart, Nazi-hating 16-year-old, Harry (the adorable Nick Vidal), and by Biff Bannon (Colm O’Reilly), the vaguely lecherous, recently widowed owner of the local cafe.
It is at that cafe that McCullers’ most political character, Jake Blount (Loren Lazerine, at turns ideally angry, cynical, fervent and inebriated), hangs out. A Marxist and union agitator, he would feel right at home with today’s Wall Street protesters.
McCullers also boldly deals with the issue of race. She gives us Dr. Copeland (Walter Coppage), the town’s only black doctor — a Marxist with W.E.B. DuBois’ “talented tenth” philosophy. And she reveals how his grown children — Portia (a commanding Ann Joseph), the Kellys’ housekeeper, and her brother, Willie (Derrick C. Cooper), a victim of extreme police abuse — fail to live up to his fierce expectations.
Director Hallie Gordon should be applauded for never talking down to her audience, but she should have worked with Gilman to more quickly and sharply clarify the pivotal relationships here. She also should have demanded better vocal projection from some of her actors.
As ever, Collette Pollard’s set is a triumph of imagination — a wide open, lonely space with old chairs, lamps and window frames suspended from the rafters.
You might expect a small, racially segregated, Bible Belt mill town in Depression-era Georgia to have an intense concentration of conformity. But in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, her 1940 career-making first novel, Carson McCullers, like many Southern writers, revealed such places to be among the greatest hotbeds of eccentricity — hidden outposts for what one of her characters bluntly describes as “freaks.”
Of course no one who has ever made it through adolescence (or life in general), has not felt freakish at one moment or another. So McCullers’ novel, adapted for the stage by Rebecca Gilman, is a natural entry into the Steppenwolf for Young Adults program, the project designed primarily for school group audiences that also schedules weekend shows for an enthusiastic general public.
The town at the center of McCullers’ story is full of such outcasts, including two deaf-mutes: The kind-hearted John Singer (Robert Schleifer, a deaf actor of quiet eloquence who signs and “notates” his lines), a jewelry engraver who appears to have a private income, and who might be a Jew, and his longtime roommate, Antonapoulos (Jay Reed), a younger fellow who does menial work at a relative’s store until he becomes troublesome and is sent to live in a mental institution. Once alone, Singer becomes the unofficial town listener — a sounding board for many of its other lonely, troubled souls.
Mick Kelly (Jessica Honor Carleton, a most winning mix of the gawky, the natural and the impulsive), is the smart, curious, restless, money-strapped girl of 14 who is teetering awkwardly on the brink of womanhood. Passionate about music, with dreams of being a composer, she befriends, and is befriended by Singer, who lives at the boarding house run by her dad (Alan Wilder). She also is tentatively pursued by the smart, Nazi-hating 16-year-old, Harry (the adorable Nick Vidal), and by Biff Bannon (Colm O’Reilly), the vaguely lecherous, recently widowed owner of the local cafe.
It is at that cafe that McCullers’ most political character, Jake Blount (Loren Lazerine, at turns ideally angry, cynical, fervent and inebriated), hangs out. A Marxist and union agitator, he would feel right at home with today’s Wall Street protesters.
McCullers also boldly deals with the issue of race. She gives us Dr. Copeland (Walter Coppage), the town’s only black doctor — a Marxist with W.E.B. DuBois’ “talented tenth” philosophy. And she reveals how his grown children — Portia (a commanding Ann Joseph), the Kellys’ housekeeper, and her brother, Willie (Derrick C. Cooper), a victim of extreme police abuse — fail to live up to his fierce expectations.
Director Hallie Gordon should be applauded for never talking down to her audience, but she should have worked with Gilman to more quickly and sharply clarify the pivotal relationships here. She also should have demanded better vocal projection from some of her actors.
As ever, Collette Pollard’s set is a triumph of imagination — a wide open, lonely space with old chairs, lamps and window frames suspended from the rafters.