Joyful Noise
Covey Center
December 5-21, 2013
Here's what is both wonderful and problematic about seeing a show in a small black box theater: you're so close to the action that you feel a part of it. You feel compelled to say amen at the end of sermons; you have to stop yourself from helping with set changes; you want to join in on the chorus of songs you know. Being an audience member in a traditional space is like wearing a hood or a veil--you get to observe from a comfortable distance (both physically and emotionally). Being an audience member in a black box challenges that. There is no emotional buffer and I have to admit that when this play touched on deeply emotional subjects (like the healing power of the Atonement), I felt a little naked without that buffer. After all, I could see right into their eyes. I could see right into their souls. Could they see into mine?
You're probably not as neurotic as I am, but it gives you an idea of how intimate this production is. The play presents some difficult images--the forcible removal of an infant from her mother (on stage), sexual assault (off stage) and its aftermath (on stage), and heartbreak in its various forms. The staging lays these all in the audience's lap, which can be jarring. More often than not, though, there is solace to be found, so after our hearts break from Susannah's (Anna Daines Rennaker's) wrenching description of her abuse at the hands of her husband we, too, are wrapped in Mrs. Pendarve's warm embrace.
Lynne D. Bronson's portrayal of Mary Pendarves was one of the most delightful parts of the production. She was hilarious without making the character ridiculous and was, consequently, totally endearing in her unwavering adoration of "the Master" (Scott Bronson's Handel) and her fierce loyalty to Susannah (Anna Daines Rennaker). Plus, as mentioned above, her very being was the tight hug we all needed in light of Susannah's revelations, Handel's disappointments, the King's mourning, and Eggerton's spiritual struggles.
I also loved the journey of Kat Webb's Kitty Clive. She threw herself so whole-heartedly into the negative aspects of her character that her transformation when singing Handel's Messiah was stunning. Also, a note to the costume designer: I loved the little bit of patching done on the back of her dress. It was just the sort of detail that can only play in this small of a setting and it was a perfect stroke for Kitty. I also loved Susannah's second dress--so light and sweet and beautiful! It made us all fall in love with her. Well, it was the dress and Anna Daines Rennaker's ability to tug at your heartstrings and blow you away musically. It has got to be incredibly difficult to sing a role where the quality of your voice is so built up from the very beginning. No pressure or anything, but you've got to sing so sweetly that the angels would weep. And she does.
Each of the actors in this small cast does an excellent job. Patrick W. Kintz manages to make the ostensible villain of the story a nuanced and earnest character and Travis Hyer's George II pulls off vulnerable (difficult to do when portraying a king) and funny without appearing weak or stupid. I especially loved when he was giving Egerton a good natured poke about the books he was railing against. M. Cameron Bench's John Christoper Smith (Handel's business manager) was the audience's right hand man too and he never let us down. He exuded confidence and competence and conveyed information organically within the scene. Adam Argyle's Charles Jennens was a great foil for Handel's explosive personality. The physical contrast between the actors was a wonderful visual and Argyle's portrayal highlighted the differences between these two creative men.
Handel, the central character in this play (whose plot I neglected to mention--it explores the events surrounding the writing of the classic oratorio The Messiah) was portrayed by J. Scott Bronson. Even in his ragings, Bronson's Handel was incredibly likable. He may be bitter and disappointed but he's still lovable. Because of that approach to the character we readily and easily forgive him his follies and weep with him when he feels the power of Christ's Atonement deeply as he contemplates the words of the songs that are now so famous. Bronson connected with the audience with ease, which made the entire production work. His journey became our journey and his tears our tears.
The play ends with the entire cast singing the Hallelujah Chorus, which is the final blow for anyone attempting a stoic response to this piece. So don't fight it; bring your hankies and have a good cry. It'll be good for your soul.
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