By ALAN SMASON, WYES-TV Theatre Critic (“Steppin’ Out“)
Throughout his life, Tennessee Williams knew tragedy. Whether through his sister Rose’s struggle with mental health or the loss of his lovers Bernard Dubowsky (aka Kip Kernan) and Frank Merlo, Williams knew the sting of loss and hopelessness.
But as a very young man, he was unacquainted with such heavy affairs. He was a budding writer, trying to establish his place in the American pantheon of playwrights and authors and his first professional staging of a play, Battle of Angels, a loose retelling of Greek tragedy, turned out to be a tragedy in its own right, quickly closing in 1940.
When he revisited his earlier work and expanded it in 1957 as Orpheus Descending, Williams had already experienced the height of his fame with The Glass Menagerie, A Streetcar Named Desire and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof within a decade. That success began to diminish with Orpheus and despite one 1989 Broadway revival that did a little better than its original run, it is largely considered a failure.
Like their namesake’s successful era, the Tennessee Williams Theatre Company of New Orleans has begun its tenth season and they have chosen to kick it off with Orpheus.
Gleaned from characters in Greek tragedy as well as elements found in its structure, Orpheus Descending is largely the story of Valentine Xavier, a handsome young drifter, and a dry goods store owner, Lady Torrance, who sees him as a second chance for happiness.
As Valentine, Benjamin Dougherty checks off all of Williams’ requirements for the role. He is a tall, lanky, charismatic object of lust for Lady (Leslie Claverie) and all the other townspeople. Claverie, who is a noteworthy singer and comic actress, plays this role with a quiet intensity worthy of the desperation of her character. While there is much to admire in Claverie’s performance, one has to question the choice of employing a thick Italian accent inasmuch as she would have been exposed to a generation of Americans who might have encouraged her identifying with the Mississippi culture and even taken on a slight Southern drawl over the course of time.
Growing up in the South during the Jim Crow era of prejudice and rampant racism, she has lived in fear of the powers that be, particularly the imposing figure of her husband Jabe Torrance. The product of an Italian immigrant known by the town’s people as “the wop,” Lady has endured a loveless and childless marriage forced upon her after she became pregnant out of wedlock.
Her beloved father was killed in a fire set by her husband and the other xenophobic and intolerant creeps as an example for selling liquor to the negroes in the town. Why she fails to recognize her husband is not only guilty, but probably the ringleader of the mob responsible for torching her father’s land and causing his untimely demise, is not explained by Williams. Perhaps, it is a case in her not wanting to know, because to know rather than suspect him might be more intolerable than she could withstand.
But Valentine’s hiring as a clerk at Lady’s dry good store means a steady torrent of women customers, all wanting to gawk at him. In particular, one attractive woman of questionable taste, Carol Cutrere (Charlie Carr), is drawn, siren-like to him.
It becomes quite obvious that the two have shared more than a fleeting hour or two in New Orleans, where she has been banished. Carol’s sexual tension is thick enough to cut with a knife and her scenes with Valentine border on the torrid and more scintillating in the play. He refuses to acknowledge their past and only does admit it to Lady when she suspects him.
But Carol Curtrere is the younger sister of Lady’s former lover, David Cutrere (Andrew Niemann), a figure who has been forbidden to enter her home after their affair went south. Carol’s decision to chase after Valentine eventually leads her brother to claim her and take her away.
The first act drags slowly along as Williams builds the exposition for the resolution of the work. The women who gossip about Lady and Jabe, Valentine and Lady, Carol Cutrere and Valentine and Lady and Dave Cutrere comprise an impromptu Greek chorus throughout the work. Vee Talbot (Judy Lea Steele), the wife of the malicious sheriff, is a Casandra-like figure, an oracle who can see into the future, but at great cost to herself.
In addition to the elements of Greek tragedy, Williams incorporates a Christian commentary, setting the story during an Easter weekend that begins on Good Friday and ends on Easter evening. Valentine’s surname begins with an “X” (or a cross) and Valentine’s being compared as a tragic figure to Jesus Christ is certainly deliberate.
Vee’s visions increasingly become more linked to Christian dogma as the play continues and as she “sees” more, her vision diminishes. Intuitively, she seeks out the help of Valentine to restore her. Steele’s portrayal may be the most cartoonish of the characters in the play. Likewise, David Sellers (Dog) and John Wettermark (PeeWee) are henchmen with few redeeming values.
As Jabe Torrance, James Howard Wright is menacing and his constant knocking from the bedroom above the dry goods store is a constant reminder of impending doom and death.
This is a big cast for director Augustin Correro who employs 15 actors, many of whom are in short scenes with the lead actors. Lending their support as the gossiping women and the erstwhile chorus members Dolly Hamma and Beulah Binning are Lalanya Gunn and Desiree Burrell, while Lizzy Bruce and Mia Frost play the two Temple sisters.
Robert A. Mitchell portrays a mysterious Conjure Man, while John Jabaley plays Sheriff Talbot, an intolerant xenophobe who runs the town as Jabe and others want it run. Their roles are almost caricatures of stereotypes that might have come from other Tennessee Williams works.
The scenic design by Nathan Arthur is Southern gothic with a hint of repression. The excellent lighting design is by Diane K. Baas, while co-artistic director and sound designer Nick Shackleford continues to impress with excellent choices to accompany the action on the stage. Costumes by Baylee Robertson are also outstanding.
Despite its status as a flop, Orpheus Descending does have its genius found in the many lines the playwright gives to his characters. His tragic figure of a Christ-like, would-be troubadour recalling the handsome mythological rendering of Orpheus is replete not with a lyre, but with a guitar, an instrument that sings the praises of iconic blues singers from the South like Leadbelly and Billie Holiday.
The original language Williams wrote is preserved, so if the “n-word” offends you, be forewarned. Williams was writing in a pre-Civil Rights era and his use of the language was intended not to foster hate, but to point out where racism and prejudice existed. This is a play that will never improve with age, but despite its problems, this particular rendering has many fine examples of taking chances and advancing the characters. While this is not Williams’ best work, it is an important one that informs him as a Southern writer and, as they say down South, bless his heart for trying.
Orpheus Descending (2 hours and 50 minutes with one 15-minute intermission) continues its run at the Marquette Theater on the Loyola campus from now through April 13. For tickets click here.
