Gift giving has always been a very big deal within The Players. After a production is completed it is not unusual to see participants carrying armloads of packages into the theater, one for every member of the cast and crew who worked so hard to produce a great show.
Often these presents are tree decorations given to bring back the memories of bygone shows every year when you bedeck your Christmas tree. That is what happened to me last week when I carefully unwrapped all my ornaments, and tucked in with the melted plastic cup from my son’s preschool days, toilet paper roll soldiers from my grandchildren, and cracked nativity pieces from my grandparents’ home, were some unusual and special pieces that accomplished exactly what they were intended to do.
Just as each challenge and achievement in your existence adds a jewel that is used to adorn your life’s tree, so each character that you portray, set that you design, costume that you make, music that you play or direct, is a unique experience that, when gathered together, adds infinite glitter to the creative stem of life. A bauble to hang delicately on the branches that make up the theater experience.
If each show has a particular feel, a personality that distinguishes it from all others, then each also has a visual that will give reality to the memory. If I were going to hang an image on my tree for Arsenic and Old Lace, it would be a fine bone china tea cup filled to the brim with cameos, lace handkerchiefs, and lavender sachet, topped with a froth of khaki colored foam drizzled with tainted chocolate shavings. That, in a nutshell, is Arsenic and Old Lace.
Donna Marthouse and Victoria Aults performed sweetly, believably and murderously well as the two retiring, elderly sisters who found no harm in poisoning male visitors to their home and then depositing their remains in the basement, Pamama, as their less than sane brother Teddy, played with great humor and empathy by Richard Ward, called it.
A classic piece of American theater, this show marked the revisiting of TCP’s ability to cross-dress. Sandra Stever and Carolyn Patton each portrayed men, a corpse and police detective respectively, and did so with great panache.
The set was a two story recreation of a Victorian house, complete with leaded glass windows, courtesy of Sharon Lucas, a second story interior balcony and a stairway used by Teddy while making his constant charges up and down “San Juan Hill.”
It is a lovely, delicate, even if slightly askew, ornament for my memory tree.
Gypsy, on the other hand, would have a decoration as big, loud, and driven as Rose herself. It would be encircled by large white lights, marquee style of course, filled with a layer of bright red sequins, and animated with the silhouettes of three bumping, grinding, good natured burlesque dancers. The hook needed to attach this heavy ornament onto the branch would be hard-as-steel wire covered in soft, diaphanous, rose colored ribbon.
How’s that for a visual!
Linda Strong directed a cast of what seemed like thousands as they told the story of Rose, the quintessential stage mother, and her two daughters June and Louise, in their quest for stardom.
Darcy Wilson was at her all time best as she glided seamlessly from the young, innocent Louise into her grown alter ego, Gypsy Rose Lee, the most famous of all burlesque queens.
She was surrounded by an infinite amount of talent with her supporting cast including: Nancy Sloss, Mary Jane Bickle and Molly McAnich as the “You Gotta Get A Gimmick” strippers, Tammy Anderson as the grown Baby June, Scott Strong as June’s love interest Tulsa, Dennis Reedy as Rose’s father, Karen Mayhew, Natalie Kurtz, Ed Kuhstos, Maureen Drain, children by the score and chorus by the tons. It was a really big cast folks!
On a personal note, I had the opportunity to play Rose in this production and, just as Angel Street was my favorite show from the technical side of my involvement, this was my hands-down favorite character to portray. Rose is a fabulous part, strong, spicy, opinionated, driven and vulnerable. What more could a performer ask for, and I will always have enormously fond memories of the hours spent with Darcy, Linda, and Sally Cupp, our overworked but greatly appreciated accompanist, as we toiled with the delicate balance comprising the relationship between this mother and daughter. Rose is the only part I would ever consider doing again, and that is a great, big endorsement.
If Arsenic and Old Lace provided the fragility, Gypsy provided the glitz.
The final branch of my symbolic tree is decorated with an illusion. A tidy box perfectly wrapped in pristine paper and tied with a very precise bow. The illusion comes in when you touch it. It springs open ala a jack-in-the-box, and spews cigar butts, beer bottles and dirty socks all over your Christmas vignette.
You guessed it, The Odd Couple completes the trilogy for this 12th season. Directed by and starring Brian Anderson as the fastidious Felix Unger, this was the first dinner theater TCP produced in the newly completed Citizens Social Hall. Playing foil to Brian in life and on-stage was his best friend, Gib Lucas, who was endearing and infuriating at the same time as Oscar Madison. They knew each other so well that the beautifully written banter between the characters, by Neil Simon, seemed fresh and completely natural.
Oscar’s poker friends in this delightful comedy consisted of Rich Ward, Dave Hess, Ed Kuhstos and Chuck Brand, while upstairs Cockney girls, the coo-coo sisters, were delightfully played by Nancy Sloss and Darcy Wilson who giggled their way through the smart dialogue and interrelated social goings-on.
It was easy to see why The Odd Couple had become one of the most produced plays in contemporary theater history, and why Felix and Oscar were such beloved characters that they spawned a hit television series, a movie, numerous professional touring companies of the stage show, and even an all women’s version of the play.
When I placed the ornaments on my Christmas tree at home I didn’t actually have any from these three particular shows, although now I will always have an unmistakable impression of the one’s I fabricated for Arsenic and Old Lace, Gypsy, and The Odd Couple, and they will be as clear to me as the ones I can unwrap, touch, and hang.
Christmas seems to be about gratitude for many things. Mixed with all the things in my life that make me fortunate will always be the friends, comrades, coworkers, fellow performers, illusions, and memories that TCP has provided to me.
As was so well spoken by Tiny Tim in A Christmas Carol, “God bless us, every one.”
