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Philip Dorian
Chekhov Goes Country: “Songbird”
in New Jersey
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Caption: Felicia
Finley and the company of "Songbird" |
Through July 1 at Two River Theater, Bridge
Ave., Red Bank NJ. Performances Wed at 1pm & 7pm; Thurs at 1 &
8; Fri at 8; Sat at 3 & 8; Sun at 3pm. For tickets ($40 - $70):
732-345-12400 or online at www.tworivertheater.org
Country music has never appealed to me. I might leave it on a rental
car pre-set, but would never seek it out. If, however, it was all
as flavorful as Lauren Pritchard’s music and lyrics for “Songbird,”
I could become a fan. Her score is original in more ways than one.
Titles like “Black Widow Woman,” “Whiskey Lullabies,”
“Highway Fantasy” and a dozen more attest to its honky-tonk
bona fides, but that DNA is enhanced by undertones of both rock and
jazz. Coupled with Michael Kimmel’s affecting book (and a nudge
from a Century-plus-ago playwright), “Songbird” is a rare
blend of foot-stomping rhythms and heart-tugging emotions, that Two
River Theater Company is serving up with style.
“Songbird” is based, subtly and effectively, on Russian
dramatist Anton Chekhov’s “The Seagull,” an 1896
play you need not have seen or read (or even heard of) in order to
appreciate this multi-faceted hoedown derivative.
The play opens with Tammy Trip (Felicia Finley)’s Grand Ol’
Opry debut and then flashes years forward to when the now-fading former
Opry and touring star comes home to Nashville with celebrity songwriter
Beck (Eric William Morris) in tow. Tammy’s son Dean (Merrick
Smith), a budding songwriter himself, albeit one with dubious talent,
is hopelessly in love with his singing partner Mia (Ephie Aardema),
whose instantaneous infatuation with Beck sets off emotional dynamics
that echo Chekhov’s 1896 theatrical family.
The Two River cast is a believably close ensemble. It’s as if
their portrayals of family and long-time friends who tolerate one
another’s quirks and faults have osmosed into their onstage
bonds with one another, a feeling I had when I saw the original production
off-Broadway in 2015, featuring, btw, six of this ten-member cast.
Each of the ten is a triple-threat: acting/inhabiting the close-knit
characters, singing in solo turns and as a harmonious group, and,
in a casting-director’s challenge, accompanying themselves on
piano, guitar, violin, bass and, of course, tambourine. A notable
hold-over from off-Broadway is Andy Taylor (not Mayberry’s)
as a saloon denizen (Chekhov’s schoolteacher) whose richly mellow
cello underpins Ms. Pritchard’s score, transforming a hoedown
band into a country-flavored orchestra.
Ms. Finley might read a tad young and sprightly for Tammy, but she
acts up a storm in the emotionally complex role, and she sings like…well,
like a not-really-faded Nashville star. (She plays the spoons, too!)
Barmaid Missy, married to Rip (Deon’te Goodman) but longing
for Dean, is played with quiet intensity by Kacie Sheik. Dressed all
in black (Chekhov’s Masha), someone observes that she “sings
like June but looks like Johnny.” Darned if her “Cry Me
a River” (same title, new song) doesn’t evoke a likeness
– to June.
Sheltered, innocent Mia is the catalyst around whom much of the play’s
emotional content revolves. Ms. Aardema, well-remembered from “The
Last Five Years” in an Asbury Park dive bar in 2014, captures
her extremes: before and after the caddish Beck uses and discards
her (as in Chekhov’s Nina and Trigórin).
Bob Stillman is particularly effective as Tammy’s ailing brother
Soren, who owns the bar where most of the scenes are set. “That
Ain’t Right,” he sings, and much that occurs in his bar
really ain’t, but set designer Jason Sherwood’s bar itself
is a gem, as authentic and atmospheric as this northeasterner could
imagine. (And well it should be, considering how much they drink in
it!) Aaron Porter’s lighting washes and isolates without calling
attention to itself, and Sarah J. Holden’s costumes are use-worn
but not shabby.
Original music director/arranger/orchestrator Kristopher Kukul is
still on the job (thank you!) and Marc Kimelman has signed on to choreograph,
a contribution more in evidence here on a significantly wider stage
than before. That expansion isn’t necessarily a plus; some of
the intimacy is lost, although, under Gaye Taylor Upchurch’s
direction, Mia and Beck’s encounter in the gazebo-like setting
is a moving romantic interlude. Only later do you realize that they
hadn’t actually touched. Upchurch and her creative team are
as much an ensemble as the cast.
“Songbird” succeeds in a particular aspect that was important
to Chekhov, who, despite its serious – even tragic – elements,
labeled “The Seagull” a comedy. Like that play, “Songbird”
is not frivolous, nor does it skirt serious issues (or change the
ending), but it is also more than a bit funny. Family in-joke jibes
are tossed off and accepted in good spirits.
There’s rustic profundity, too, as in “Everybody likes
daytime drinking; they just feel compelled to lie about it”
and one of the best lines ever: “I wish hangovers and orgasms
would switch duration.” At just over two hours, “Songbird”
is just right.
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