I’m not
a full-fledged authority on Tennessee Williams, but I do know good deal about
him and some of his plays as the result of several years of work with and for some
scholars who are TW experts. (For a
number of years back in the ’80s, ’90s, and ’00s, I did research for pay and my
principal clients ended up being a passel of Williams scholars who lived out of
town and needed someone in New York City who could track down information and
documents here. That led me to doing several Williams-related
projects of my own—some of which have been republished on Rick On Theater—and thus, I gathered
a lot of biographical, literary, and theatrical information about the great
playwright.)
In
particular, I did a great deal of work on two of Williams’s connected plays: Summer and Smoke (première
1947, Broadway 1948) and The Eccentricities of a Nightingale (written
1961, première 1964, Broadway 1976), his
reconsideration of the earlier play.
One of the Williams scholars, Philip
C. Kolin, asked me to contribute the
chapter on the two plays to Tennessee
Williams: A Guide to Research and Performance (Greenwood
Press, 1998), which he was editing. That eventually led to “The Lost Premiere of Tennessee
Williams’s Eccentricities of a Nightingale” for The Journal of American Drama and
Theatre (Spring
1999) and ultimately to “‘The Sculptural Drama’: Tennessee Williams’s
Plastic Theatre” in the Tennessee Williams Annual Review (2002). (The latter was posted in ROT on 20
March 2010 and the former on 9 May 2015. I also wrote two original pieces for this blog:
“Getting from Summer and Smoke to Eccentricities,” 26
February 2015, which, as the
title suggests, relates how Williams reimagined Summer
and Smoke as Eccentricities, and “‘The Pieces Don’t Fit!,’” 13 March 2015, which was suggested by a line spoken in the first act of Summer
and Smoke and echoed in the second.)
In the spirit of full disclosure, I’ll also note
that I appeared in a production of Eccentricities of a Nightingale in
New Jersey in 1979—my first union show, from which I got my Actors Equity card. (I
played Roger Doremus, Alma’s nebbishy wannabe suitor.)
So, as I said, I know a bit about Summer and Smoke, currently running at the Classic Stage Company (for the next couple
of days, anyway). I also have strong feelings about the play,
somewhat proprietary in a way, which will necessarily inform my report on the
production.
Summer and Smoke was the second of
his major plays Williams wrote but the third to be staged on Broadway. He
began composing it in 1945 (as Chart of
Anatomy) and it was first produced (as Summer
and Smoke) in Dallas by Margo Jones at her esteemed regional company, Theatre
‘47, premièring on 8 July 1947. Because A Streetcar Named Desire, written after Summer and Smoke,
opened in December, the Broadway transfer of Summer to the Music Box
Theatre was delayed until 6 October 1948. (The Glass Menagerie had
opened on Broadway on 31 March 1945 and ran until 3 August
1946.) Compared unfavorably to both Menagerie and Streeetcar, Summer ran
only until 1 January 1949, 102 performances. (Menagerie and Streetcar
had original runs of 563 and 855 performances, respectively—very long for that
time.) The play was considered a flop
and nearly derailed the nascent playwright’s career.
Directed
by Jones in both Dallas and New York with Tod Andrews as John and Katherine
Balfour as Alma in the world première and then Andrews and Margaret Phillips on
Broadway. On Broadway, Mrs. Winemiller was played by Marga Ann Deighton,
Reverend Winemiller by Raymond Van Sickle, Dr.
Buchanan by Ralph Theadore; Anne Jackson appeared as Nellie Ewell and
the wonderful Ray Walston had the near-cameo role of the salesman Archie Kramer. The
Broadway set and lighting were designed by Jo Mielziner and the costumes by
Rose Bogdanoff; Williams’s friend Paul Bowles wrote original incidental music
for the production. Mielziner’s scenic design was highly praised
in the 1948 reviews and I’ll have something to say about this aspect of the CSC
production shortly.
In
1950, a tour of Summer and Smoke
starring Dorothy McGuire and John Ireland covered the western United States. On 22
November 1951, the London premiere, directed by Peter Glenville, opened with William Sylvester and Margaret Johnston as the
would-be lovers. (Foreign-language
premières opened all over the globe from 1950 to 1994.) Then, on 24 April 1952, Off-Broadway was born
when Circle in the Square restaged Summer and Smoke starring Lee
Richardson and Geraldine Page. Running for 356 performances, the revival was
directed by José Quintero. The production established Off-Broadway as an
important venue for serious theater, revived the reputations of the play and
the author, and made names for Quintero (who went on to become a renowned
interpreter of Williams’s work) and Page.
Two
years later, Washington, D.C.’s Arena Stage produced a popular Summer (9
February-21 March 1954) directed by Alan Schneider with George Grizzard and Dorothea
Jackson, with Frances Sternhagen as Mrs.
Winemiller. In 1975, Gene Feist staged an Off-Broadway
revival for New York’s Roundabout Theatre Company in its Chelsea home with
Michael Storm as John and Debra Mooney as Alma.
In July 1986, Christopher Reeve
and Laila Robins portrayed the central couple at the Williamstown
(Massachusetts) Theatre Festival and two years later, Marshall Mason directed
Reeve for the Center Theatre Group, Los Angeles, opposite Christine Lahti (11
February-1 April 1988). Roundabout revived Summer and Smoke on Broadway in 1996 with Harry Hamlin and Mary
McDonnell as John and Alma under the direction of David Warren.
Paramount
produced the film adaptation of Summer and Smoke, with a screenplay by
James Poe and Meade Roberts, in 1961. Geraldine Page, nominated for an Academy
Award, repeated her Off-Broadway stage success as Alma opposite Laurence Harvey
under the direction of Peter Glenville (director of the London stage
production). On 23 January 1972, a television adaptation of
Summer and Smoke was aired in the British Broadcasting Company’s “Play
of the Month” series. Never broadcast in the United States, the program
starred American actors David Hedison and Lee Remick.
Summer
and Smoke
is the only major Williams play to have been set to music in his lifetime (not
counting the 1952 Streetcar ballet).
Composed by Lee Hoiby with a
libretto by Lanford Wilson, the opera debuted on 19 June 1971 by the St. Paul Opera Association with John
Reardon singing John and Mary Beth Peil, Alma, under the conductor Igor Buketoff.
The
current Off-Broadway revival, co-produced with the Transport Group Theatre
Company and directed by its artistic director and co-founder, Jack Cummings
III, began previews at CSC’s East Village home on 11 April 2018 and opened on 3
May. The production, extended from a 20
May closing, is now scheduled to end on 25 May; I
saw the 8 p.m. performance on Friday, 11 May.
The Transport
Group Theatre Company is a non-profit, Off-Broadway theater troupe in New York
City. Founded in 2001 by now-artistic
director Cummings and actress Robyn Hussa, Transport stages new plays and
musicals and revivals with a focus on American stories told in a visually
progressive way. The company, which
currently performs in various venues around New York, also commissions new
works by American writers, including re-imagined revivals. Since 2007, Cummings has been artistic
director and Lori Fineman, executive director.
Through its first eight years, Transport Group was a resident theatre company
at the Connelly Theatre; an Off-Broadway venue in Manhattan’s East Village. Transport’s produced several environmental
productions including the OBIE Award-winning The Boys in the Band (2010), which seated the audience in chairs
around the play’s living room set in a Chelsea penthouse, and the first New
York revival of Michael John LaChiusa’s Hello
Again (2011), in which round banquet tables doubled as both the audience
seating and the actors’ playing space.
In 2007, Transport Group received a special Drama Desk Award for its
“breadth of vision and presentation of challenging productions” and in 2018 the
company won a Drama Critics’ Circle Award Special Citation. Transport Group has been nominated for 31
Drama Desk Awards, five Outer Critics Circle Awards, five Drama League Awards, three
Off-Broadway Alliance, and two Lucille Lortel Awards, among others. In 2011, Transport Group’s production of the
Douglas Carter Beane-Lewis Flinn musical Lysistrata
Jones transferred to Broadway and was nominated for a Tony Award. The American Theatre Wing awarded Transport
Group a National Theatre Company Grant in 2011.
In
1967, director Christopher Martin founded the Classic Stage Company Repertory
in a 100-seat theater at Rutgers Presbyterian Church on Manhattan’s West 73rd
Street as a theater committed to reimagining classic plays for contemporary
audiences. In 1973, after a period of
peripatetic existence, the theater moved into its present home on East 13th
Street, formerly an East Village carriage house. Martin left the company in 1985 and was
succeeded as artistic director by Craig Kinzer and Producing Director Carol Ostrow
(until 1987), Carol Perloff (1987-92), David Esbjornson (1992-98), Barry
Edelstein (1998-2003), Brian Kulick (2003-16), and John Doyle (2016-present). In the 50 years since its founding, CSC has
become a leading Off-Broadway theater that is a home for new and established
artists, as well audiences seeking epic stories intimately told. (The troupe’s performance space, a thrust
configuration with seating on three sides of a floor-level acting area, holds
only 199 spectators.) CSC Productions
have been cited by all major Off-Broadway theater awards including the OBIE,
Drama Desk, Outer Critics Circle, Drama League, and the Lucille Lortel Award
for Outstanding Body of Work. Summer and Smoke is Tennessee Williams’s
debut production at CSC.
Tennessee
Williams (1911-83) was born Thomas Lanier Williams III in Columbus, Mississippi,
to Cornelius Coffin (C. C.) Williams (1879-1957), a traveling shoe salesman,
and the former Edwina Dakin (1884-1980), who like many of her son’s heroines
thought of herself as a Southern belle; the couple married in 1907. (Tom
Williams became Tennessee in 1939.
Through his father, Tom was a descendant of John Sevier, 1745-1815, the
first governor of Tennessee from 1796 to 1801, and 1803 to 1809.) Edwina was the daughter of the Reverend
Walter Dakin (1857-1955), an Episcopal priest, and Rosina (Rose) Otte Dakin
(1863-1944), who taught music and singing to some of her husband’s parishioners. Because of his father’s peripatetic work,
Williams and his mother, sister Rose
Isabel Williams (1909-96), and brother Walter Dakin Williams (known as Dakin; 1919–2008)
lived with his maternal grandparents in the parsonages where Williams’s beloved grandfather was
pastor.
In
1915, Reverend Dakin, a fixer for troubled parishes, was assigned to St.
George’s Episcopal Church in Clarksdale, Mississippi, a small river port in
the Mississippi Delta area. The Dakins and the Williamses lived in
Clarksdale until 1918 (and Tom returned there from 1920 to ’21 to finish
elementary school), so the dramatist lived there for a large chunk of the
period in which Summer and Smoke is set. It’s generally accepted that Clarksdale
became several towns of Tennessee Williams plays, including the Glorious Hill
of Summer and Smoke and Eccentricities
of a Nightingale.
(From
1902 to 1905, Reverend Dakin served as Episcopal minister in Port Gibson,
Mississippi, 175 miles south along the Mississippi from Clarksdale. This town has a famous landmark: the First Presbyterian
Church whose steeple is topped by “an enormous gilded hand with its index
finger pointing straight up, accusingly, at—heaven,” as Alma describes her
father’s Glorious Hill Episcopal church in Eccentricities. The description doesn’t appear in Summer and Smoke, however.)
Williams
is far too well known (and his life much too full) to summarize here; he’s easy
to look up in any number of sources.
This brief snippet, however, provides many clues to the origins and
conception of the playwright’s second major play. In all his plays, Williams was a compulsive
recycler of bits of his biography and experiences. In Summer
and Smoke, like Reverend Dakin, for instance, Reverend Winemiller was the Episcopal minister of the town and like “The Nightingale
of the Delta,” Williams grew up at the rectory.
(Williams once insisted, “I’m Alma.”) Reverend Dakin’s father had been a small-town
doctor like the Drs. Buchanan and Rose Dakin had taught piano and voice like
Alma. C. C. Williams was a drummer for a
shoe company, just as is Archie Kramer, the young man Alma picks up in the
play’s last scene. (The salesman’s last
name comes from Tennessee Williams’s first girlfriend, Hazel Kramer, the only
woman to whom he proposed marriage when he was 18.)
Both
Mrs. Winemiller and Alma manifest characteristics of Williams’s sister, Rose,
and mother. The older woman is drawn
from the later, clearly schizophrenic Rose, but Edwina Williams’s depiction of
her daughter’s overreaction to illness echoes Alma’s. (Rose Williams began exhibiting symptoms of
her illness at 14 and was diagnosed in 1937, when she was
institutionalized. Rose was lobotomized
in 1943 and Tennessee looked after her all of his life.) Much of Alma is also drawn from Edwina
Williams, the small-town minister’s daughter with a streak of Puritanism who
had been called a nightingale.
The
egocentric hedonist of Summer and Smoke, John, is a portrait of
Williams’s father, who preferred carousing to domesticity. C. C. Williams lost part of his ear in a
fight over a card game; John is knifed in a drunken fight while gambling at
Moon Lake. (Moon Lake is a real recreation area just 18 miles north of
Clarksdale and Lyon, where Dr. Buchanan, Sr.’s fever clinic is, is a tiny town
about two miles northeast of Clarksdale.).
The elder Dr. Buchanan, a remote, cold, and censorious father, depicts
another aspect of C. C. Williams, who denigrated his son and called him “Miss
Nancy.” The Reverend Winemiller is
inspired by (but not a portrait of) Rev. Walter Dakin, whom Williams adored all
his life..
The
foundation of Summer and Smoke (and Eccentricities) is Edwina Williams’s tales of her
youth in Port Gibson and Natchez, Mississippi, that she told her children (and which
were published in her memoir, Remember Me To Tom [G. P. Putnam’s Sons,
1963]). Both plays had their origins in
a short story, “Bobo,” which Williams wrote in 1941, then revised into
“The Yellow Bird” in 1946; published in 1947, “Yellow Bird” centered on a
preacher‘s daughter named Alma Tutwiler.
(There were Tutwilers in Clarksdale; the name Winemiller came from
another story, “One Arm.”)
Like
most of Williams’s plays, Summer and
Smoke exists in two versions, a “literary” or “reading” text and an
“acting” text. The longer, “literary”
version was the play as Williams wrote it, successfully produced in Dallas, but
trimmed during Jones’s rehearsals in New York.
The shorter version is the text sold by Dramatists Play Service, the
agent for all non-professional productions and publisher of the official
“acting version.” The “literary” text is
published in hardcover volumes (including anthologies such as The Collected Plays of Tennessee Williams
from the Library of America) and trade paperbacks (New Directions’ The Theatre of Tennessee Williams). The historic Quintero revival in 1952 was
based on the longer version, with the Prologue of Alma and John as children
meeting by the stone angel, the iconic image of the play, and so is the CSC
mounting.
Set in
the fictional town of Glorious Hill, Mississippi, in “the first few years of” the
20th century to 1916, Summer and Smoke—the
title comes from a line in the poem “Emblems
of Conduct” (c. 1924, pub. 1926) by Hart Crane (1899-1932), an important
emotional influence on Williams—opens at “dusk of an evening in May” in the
town square. There we meet Alma
Winemiller, the daughter of Glorious Hill’s Episcopal minister, as a
ten-year-old (played at CSC by the same actress who plays the part as an adult,
Marin Ireland), standing in front of the stone statue of an angel—which in
Cummings’s mounting is represented by a framed tinted photograph on an
easel.
As Alma
leans down to drink from the statue’s fountain, young John Buchanan, Jr., son
of the town doctor (Nathan Darrow, also the adult actor for the later
character), sneaks into the square and startles Alma. They are schoolmates and clearly well
acquainted with one another as Alma has given Johnny a box of handkerchiefs
because he has a runny nose, and he knows exactly how to tease her. As they banter, Alma tells John that the
stone angel has a name: Eternity. In
fact, the two Buchanans and the Winemillers are neighbors, for the church’s
rectory and the doctor’s office and home are next door to one another.
This
Prologue, omitted from the “acting” version of the text, prefigures Alma and
John’s relationship as adults. We see
her as a sensitive, possibly even hyper-sensitive, girl with religious
tendencies (“My name is Alma and Alma is Spanish for soul,” she tells
Johnny) and an almost maternal concern for John’s well-being and demeanor. John, on the other hand, reveals the
beginnings of his carelessness, apparent callowness, and rebelliousness at the
same time as he’s obviously drawn to Alma—though not in a particularly
spiritual way. As young adults, both
will manifest these characteristics to a more (over-)developed degree. In Cummings’s production, the Prologue isn’t
Williams’s foreshadowing of things to come, however, but Alma’s memory of the
way things were before life happened. In
this conception, the adult actors portraying their characters’ younger selves
works well.
After
the Prologue, the scene jumps to July 4th a few years before the U.S. entry
into World War I. Reverend and Mrs.
Winemiller (Jay Russell, taking the place at this performance of T. Ryder Smith, and Barbara Walsh) arrive just as Alma finishes singing in the town’s Independence Day band concert. (In the “literary” version, there’s a short
scene that Cummings didn’t use of townspeople gathering in the square for the
entertainment. It seems that the Transport
Group director reverts to the shorter script at this point.) It’s apparent that Mrs. Winemiller is, as we
used to say, not a well woman, having suffered a breakdown years earlier. She slipped “into a state of perverse
childishness,” Williams states, and Reverend Winemiller and his daughter refer
to her as their “cross to bear.”
After
the elder Winemillers depart, John, who’s just returned home after studying
medicine in Baltimore, approaches Alma, who is waiting to meet Roger Doremus (Jonathan
Spivey), Alma’s would-be gentleman caller who plays French horn in the town
band. To attract her attention, John
tosses a firecracker toward her when she isn’t looking. Also passing through the square, as Alma and
John banter somewhat tentatively, are Rosa Gonzales (Elena Hurst), whose father
(Gerardo Rodriguez) owns the Moon Lake Casino, and Nellie Ewell (Hannah Elless),
a 16-year-old voice pupil of Alma’s; we learn a few details about both women
(who both represent figures in Williams’s pantheon of women).
From
this point on, the scenes mostly alternate between the rectory and the doctor’s
office, with occasional visits to the fountain and one trip out to Moon Lake. This rotation starts in Dr. Buchanan’s
office, which is visually distinguished by a wall chart of human anatomy
(represented in Dane Laffrey’s minimalist CSC set by a framed chart on another
easel). Each scene emphasizes the
differences between Alma’s and John’s outlooks on life, reflected in the
“triptych” set that Williams conceived for the play: the rectory (soul) on one
side of the stage, the doctor’s office (body) on the other, and the stone angel
(“eternity”) between them. Cummings,
however, has conceived a non-set that dispenses with all visual representations
of the themes except a photo of the stone angel and Dr. Buchanan’s anatomy
chart. (All hand props, from Mrs. Winemiller’s
picture puzzle to the telephones in the rectory and the doctor’s office to the firecrackers,
are mimed. Kathryn Rohe designed period
costumes, but they don’t change from scene to scene.)
The
rest of the acting environment is a white platform with a half dozen plain
wooden chairs, moved by the actors to create seating arrangements for each
location, and a hanging “ceiling” of a framed opaque white fabric which, from
my seat’s perspective (fourth row up in the center section of CSC’s three-sided
audience), made the space that is Glorious Hill seem all the more
claustrophobic and closed-in than the text alone ordinarily would. (Jesse Green likened the set to a “coffin” in
his New York Times review.) According to Cummings, in a program note, his purpose
here is to “return the focus back on the actor and the writing.” In Williams’s script, he indicates the scene
shifts with lighting cross-fades, but R. Lee Kennedy’s lighting design, which
is essentially continual muted white light covering the whole acting platform,
doesn’t accommodate this technique.
Alma,
who reminds us several times that her name means ‘soul,’ is Williams’s
embodiment of piety, exaggerated and exclusive of all other human impulses, and
the young Dr. Buchanan, who lives to use “his senses to get all he can in the way
of—satisfaction,” represents a life devoted entirely to physical experience in
pretty much all its forms. But the
playwright doesn’t advocate for either position, and Alma and John essentially
switch philosophies at the end of the play. The actual struggle
between these two impulses isn’t between Alma and John, however; it’s really
within each of them. Alma comes off the
worse in the end, as she goes from one extreme to the other. In the last scene of Summer and Smoke, Alma picks up a traveling shoe salesman, Archie
Kramer (Ryan Spahn), following in the path of Nellie’s mother, who’s known as
Glorious Hill’s “merry widow” because she meets all the trains coming into town
to pick up drummers.
Other
characters exhibit a range of other positions on the continuum, as well as
other attitudes Williams diagnosed in American society. Both fathers are remote and disapproving men,
valuing public opinion and social reputation above all other attributes, but
they are both leading representatives of the establishment (the church and
business community). Alma’s “little
group . . . of young people with—intellectual interests” (Roger; Rosemary, the
town librarian played by Glenna Brucken; and Mrs. Bassett, a gossipy widow portrayed
by Tina Johnson) are the social rejects, along with Alma, Nellie Ewell (ostracized
because of her mother’s reputation by everyone in Glorious Hill except Alma), and
Rosa (the young Mexican good-time girl with whom John takes up), who are
marginalized by the likes of Reverend Winemiller and the elder Dr. Buchanan (Phillip
Clark). The men, who are both images of
Williams’s own father, don’t see that all the outcasts are products of their
unrelenting censoriousness.
Rosa is
essentially a female counterpart of John, but she is also a manifestation of
Williams’s view, now seen as an unflattering stereotype, of Latins as
“elemental” people (South Americans and Mexicans, Spaniards, and Italians often
appear in this guise in Williams’s plays and stories), while Nellie is the character
who has found the healthy balance between her sensual and physical nature and
her spiritual side—and is largely responsible for John’s salvation in the end
when he turns from Rosa and a life of pleasure (in South America, notably) to
marriage to the wholesome and rounded Nellie.
(Nellie Ewell isn’t a large role in Summer
and Smoke, but the character is significant and dramatically pivotal. Some top actresses, some before they became
known, took the part. In the Broadway
première, it was Anne Jackson, who married Eli Wallach the year the play was
presented in New York and became one of our leading actors of the 20th century;
Pamela Tiffin played Nellie in the 1961 film.)
Summer and Smoke is filled with
symbols and symbolism. Some critics have
complained that there’s too much of that, but Williams wove it into the
play. Cummings’s stripped-down
mise-en-scène left me somewhat bereft because I felt the lack of the
visualization of Williams philosophical and dramatic themes. (I refer readers to my blog article on
plastic theater, mentioned earlier, for a discussion of Williams’s notion that
playwrights should construct their texts to include the physical environment
they conceive as integral aspects of the play and not abandon that element of
dramaturgy to directors and designers.)
Very
possibly, a viewer who doesn’t know as much about Summer and Smoke as I do now won’t have missed the triptych and the
imposing omnipresence of the stone angel, and I had no serious problem with the
mimed hand props or the imaginary fireworks (which all have symbolic
significance in Williams’s concept, such as the plumed hat), but the total absence
of any visual reinforcement of Williams’s ideas weakens the play in my
estimation and interfered with my reception of the performance. (A note: Cummings’s physical reinterpretation
was not nearly as detrimental to Summer
and Smoke as Sam Gold’s of The Glass
Menagerie was to that production; see my report on 8 April 2017.)
The
actors, however, do fine jobs in this bare-minimum production. Among Williams’s principal strengths as a
playwright were always his lyric dialogue, rising to the level of prose poetry
in his best plays, and his characters, especially his women. Cummings’s cast gives straightforward
characterizations, strongly focused and beautifully delivered (including Jay Russell,
who took the part of Reverend Winemiller at the performance
I saw).
The
CSC-Transport presentation of Summer and
Smoke is an ensemble show, a strong one, though the portrayals are a bit
bland for such a melodramatic property.
One exquisite performance, however, does stand out—that of Marin Ireland
as Alma. I gather that she has a
reputation for fine acting, especially in contemporary roles, but I’m unfamiliar
with her work. I can’t compare her Alma
with past work, but I can state that her embodiment of this ephemeral and
conflicted woman is sensitive and emotionally gripping, and a lovely rendering
of the heart of the production. Alma,
like all of Summer and Smoke’s
characters, is, at most, two-dimensional, but Ireland keeps her alive and
engaging; unfortunately, her John, in the hands of Nathan Darrow, is no match
for her on this score.
For a
guy who for most of the 2½ hours of this Summer
and Smoke (there’s one ten-minute intermission) is a thoroughgoing
hedonist, in the interpretation of Darrow, another actor with whom I have no
experience, John Buchanan, Jr., is surprisingly tame. Oh, sure, the script takes care of a number
of depravations—he’s stabbed in a bar brawl over gambling, he hooks up with a
hot Latina and a teenager, he drives fast—but Darrow’s persona is
unthreatening. He fits the John of Eccentricities better than he does
the John of Summer and Smoke.
The
rest of the company, including Reverend and Mrs. Winemiller and Dr. Buchanan,
Sr., do what they have to more than adequately but not excitingly. This is
yeoman’s ensemble. Only Hannah
Elless’s Nellie Ewell comes close to sparkling—and much of that is accounted
for by Williams’s writing. They were
like Laffrey’s set—utilitarian without being extraordinary. (I will add that Elena Hurst brought a
measure of earnest intelligence to her portrayal of Rosa which helped greatly
to diminish the negative Latino caricature.)
On the
basis of 34 reviews, the website Show-Score gave Cummings’s Summer and Smoke an average rating of
76, a somewhat middling score. Positive
notices made up 71% of the total, 26% were mixed, and 3% were negative. The highest scoring review was 90, accounting
for eight outlets, including BroadwayWorld,
Time Out New York, and New York Magazine/Vulture, backed by a
single 88 (the website BSonArts); the
site’s lowest score was TheaterScene.net’s
45. I surveyed 15 reviews for my
round-up.
In the New York Times, Jesse Green singled out
the performance of Marin Ireland for extensive praise. Calling her “one of the great drama queens of
the New York stage,” Green found her “a fascinating if counterintuitive choice”
for Alma. But the Timesman asserted that “the choice pays off; Ms. Ireland is
riveting.” Otherwise, the reviewer
lamented, CSC’s revival of Summer and
Smoke was “lackluster.” Cummings “is
known for minimalist, or essentialist, stagings,” observed Green; however, “this
‘Summer and Smoke’ has been scraped too close to the bone.” By way of illustration, he wrote:
Dane Laffrey’s big
white shoe box, or coffin, of a set conveys all too well Alma’s empty prospects
but offers nothing to suggest either the suffocating trap of her Victorian
circumstances or the richness and romance of her imagination. Her statue of Eternity is not even stone; it’s
a framed photograph.
I’m
sorry if I seem to be beating a dead horse, but Green appears to feel the same
way I do about the physical production at CSC.
He continued:
Williams specified
minimalism—no doors or windows—but he meant something more poetic by it. In his
production notes he refers to de Chirico and Renaissance paintings as a
way of suggesting the natural world Alma must finally embrace. . . . . But it mustn’t play out its bleakness too soon
or there’s nothing to lose, and thus no drama.
“Ms.
Ireland’s imagination is so well calibrated that she manages, almost
single-handedly, to correct for that distortion,” Green insisted. If the production doesn’t fulfill Williams’s
full intentions, the Times reviewer
felt, “I don’t blame the cast.” “No,” he
insisted, “it’s the parsimony of the production that’s at fault, offering
little that’s lovely.”
Calling
Cummings’s production “gripping” in the Village
Voice, Zac Thompson contended that Laffrey’s “simple yet effective design
is not only in keeping with the author’s production notes” (about which you
know now I disagree strenuously).
Thompson felt that “the absence of scenery helps to strip away all
distractions from the play’s central struggle between the sensual and the
spiritual.” Like most other reviewers,
he heaped praise on Ireland, whose “gutsy depiction of what becomes a
last-ditch grab for happiness is piercing and raw,” but the Voice reviewer also found Darrow’s “haunted
vulnerability . . . adds poignancy to the character’s professed self-disgust.”
Sara
Holdren of New York magazine/Vulture (one of the 90’s) labeled
Cummings’s Summer and Smoke “a spare,
intelligent, deeply affecting production” in which the director’s “light,
exacting touch both lifts and elucidates the text.” Holdren, too, lauded “the stellar Marin
Ireland” whose performance “is an exquisite study in awakening.” Darrow, she noted, “is delivering a tough, vulnerable
performance” as John and the “riveting” Barbara Walsh makes Mrs.
Winemiller “one of this Summer and Smoke’s brilliant surprises.”
The New York review-writer was
pleased that Cummings and Laffrey didn’t pay any attention to the playwright’s
detailed suggestions about the physical design of Summer and Smoke, providing only “a wall-less box that evokes both
spartan purity and, despite its open sides, claustrophobia.” She affirmed that “Cummings knows how little
fuss-and-stuff a richly layered piece of writing needs to work on stage,”
finding that “the play’s elegant staging is a lesson in trimming the fat.”
In Time Out New York (another 90), Helen
Shaw exclaimed, “Transport Group and Classic Stage Company's exquisite version
is strong enough to power a rocket into orbit—and that’s without mentioning the
gigantic performance at its center.”
That performance, of course, is Ireland’s and she “plays Alma Winemiller
as though the part had been written for her, and as though it had been written
yesterday; her Alma is at once radiant and frightening, as heart-stopping as a
painting that looks up and catches your eye.”
Shaw declared Darrow “superb” and asserted, “The show is a painful dance
between the two.” She described designer
Laffrey’s “cantilevered white roof-and-floor set” as “a tomb with the lid
lowering into place” and felt that director Cummings “has taken away the heavy
stuff of production so we can focus on—and have our hearts broken by—all those
invisible shimmering things.” The TONY reviewer left us with the thought
that “the show does cling to you, hanging around you like a haze even once
you’re blocks away.”
Pronouncing
this Summer and Smoke revival “sultry
and sensitive” (and “far superior” to all other recent revivals), Broadway World’s Michael Dale loaded his
notice (yet another 90) with praise of Ireland, declaring her “one of the
absolute best actors to regularly grace New York stages during this century.” Dale proclaimed that Ireland is “so good” as
Alma that “she just might have you leaving the theatre thinking that SUMMER AND
SMOKE should be regarded right up there with A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE as one of
the playwright’s master works.” Darrow,
the BWW review-writer said, gives a “nicely
underplayed performance” and the ensemble is “fine.” The director “creates a minimalist production
that effectively focuses on Williams’ words and the captivating performances.”
On New York Stage Review (still another 90),
David Finkle dubbed Cummings’s production of Summer and Smoke a “first-rate, top-drawer, A-number-one revival” with
the “treamwork” of “nothing less than the best tandem performance currently
available on a New York City stage” as the center of the production. All this was an excuse for Finkle to say
(surprise!) that Ireland has “quietly announced herself as one of the City’s
most astonishing players—maybe the best. As the nervous, uncertain, giddy to the verge
of frequent hysteria Alma, she gives her best performance yet.” Finkle asserted, “Distinguished by an inner
glow, she inhabits Alma,” but added, “Just as astonishing is Darrow as”
John. Eliciting “courageous performances”
from his cast, Cummings, insisted Finkle, “works . . . at the height of his
substantial powers.”
Zachary
Stewart of TheaterMania characterized the CSC Summer and Smoke as a “scorching revival” that “smolders with
unsatisfied longing thanks to powerful performances and a handsomely pared-down
staging by” director Cummings. Ireland
is “commanding” and Darrow exudes the “languid confidence of one who knows he
doesn't have to try very hard to be adored.” “A drama of unexpected richness,”
Stewart concluded, “Summer and Smoke reaches full bloom in
this glorious production” which the TM
reviewer observed Cummings “stages . . . with brutal simplicity.”
“Under
Jack Cummings III’s careful direction, the cast captures the essence of” Summer and Smoke, said David Roberts of Theatre Reviews Limited. “Each member of the ensemble cast develops
her or his character with sensitivity,” found Roberts, “and each delivers an
authentic and believable performance.” In
sum, this Summer and Smoke “is given
a captivating interpretation in this well thought out production.” Fern Siegel of TheaterScene.com dubbed Cummings’s interpretation of Williams’s
play “an interesting, stripped-down” production in which Ireland “delivers a
standout performance,” though Darrow “does not equal Ireland’s nuanced efforts.” Cummings’s direction is “minimalist,” but “compelling
scenes and a capable ensemble grip our attention.” Siegel ends by stating
that “it is a calibrated Ireland who deserves the shout out this round.”
Jonathan Mandell labels Summer and Smoke at CSC “a minimalist” production “which feels
neither classic nor transporting” on New
York Theater. Taking exception to
Cummings program statement that he wants to “return the focus back on the actor
and the writing,” Mandell contended that “ironically the staging has the
opposite effect.” He argued, “The
writing and the acting would certainly be more affecting in the CSC/Transport
production, however, if it weren’t for the distraction of the staging.” Laffrey’s set, the New York Theater writer reported, “looks like something out of a
low-budget sci-fi movie about life in a spaceship.” Miming the props didn’t work for Mandell for
several reasons. In “a fine 12-member
cast,” however, Ireland is the “clear standout.”
JK
Clarke of Theater Pizzazz found that Cummings’s
“hyper-minimalist approach diminishes” the “inspired” performances of several
of the cast. Clarke also wondered why,
with the “beautiful and impressive period costumes (Kathryn Rohe), the stark
ecru-and cream rectangular set looks like the ladies footwear department at
Bloomingdales, circa 1979.” The TP reviewer also found the miming of the
props “on the whole is [more] distracting than instructive, and doesn’t seem to
augment the story in any way.” Ireland,
Clarke felt, “inhabits Alma beautifully, but the strange, austere production
design distracts from her character’s development.” Quoting Mrs. Winemiller’s line “The pieces
don’t fit!” Clarke pointed out, “They don’t.”
The “superb
Marin Ireland” gives “a performance of heartbreaking intensity and meticulous
desperation” in Summer and Smoke,
“joined by Nathan Darrow who . . ., too, is sensational in an almost impossible
role,” proclaimed David Hurst on Talkin’
Broadway. “It's a shame Cumming[s]’s
oddly directly production isn’t as electrifying as its stars and their game supporting
cast.” Hurst complained that the
director’s “stark concept for this revival” is bereft of “the traditional
elements of any Summer and Smoke production.” He also objected to the miming of the
props. Like so many other reviewers,
Hurst lavished praise on Ireland, but in the end he had this to sat about the
production overall:
In addition to lots
of clumsy blocking, it’s a shame so many distractions of Cumming[s]’s making
pull the audience out of the action and away from the story. Why isn’t the cast using props? I can forgive the spartan set (though it does
nothing to help the story), and all the white lighting, but why have detailed,
period costumes with no props. Can you
give John a stethoscope and, for goodness sake, let Alma have a pair of gloves?
And can Mrs. Winemiller please have a
hat with a plume? What does such a
decision serve. It’s bad enough they’re
performing in a white cube of sterility and colorlessness, but then you force
them to do all this crazy pantomiming. It’s
a testament to how wonderful the cast is that Summer and Smoke remains
as affecting and moving as Williams no doubt hoped it would be.
On CurtainUp, Elyse Sommer, who admitted
she’s admired Cummings “for years,” labeled this Summer and Smoke “sluggish” and “disappointing” and complained that
“minimalism . . . can distract as is the case here by keeping the audience so
focused on trying to figure out what’s happening and where we are.” Nonetheless, Sommer found the “performances
at CSC . . . seemed to be in good hands” with a “solidly cast” ensemble and
(once again) singled out Ireland, who “has the acting chops to be [a] riveting
Alma.” (Sommer was also peeved because
CSC has started an “annoying custom of not handing out programs until after the
show.” I couldn’t agree more!) The review-writer concluded by observing, “Even
in a disappointing production like this, Williams’s language still gives
Ireland’s Alma an opportunity to break our hearts.”
Of Cummings’s
production of Summer and Smoke,
Samuel L. Leiter declared on Theatre’s
Leiter Side, “It’s very likely . . . that, if Summer and Smoke’s
lugubrious current Off-Broadway revival . . . were its premiere, it would
suffer a fate worse than that of the original.”
Cummings, Leiter observed, follows an aesthetic of “paring shows down to
their minimum” claiming that “the point of his sometimes daringly reconceiving
familiar plays is to highlight the actors’ work.” The TLS
blogger proclaimed, “In Summer and Smoke, though, he seriously
misfires.” Leiter complained, “Removing
all traces of traditional investiture and treating the play as if it were a
cousin of the noh theatre completely deprives it of all-important atmosphere .
. . and specificity of locale.” (Leiter
is an expert on Japanese theater, including Noh, and had published several
books on the subject.) One of the few
reviewers who was displeased with Ireland’s performance, Leiter stated: “As
Alma, the usually exciting Marin Ireland does a lot of acting, with numerous
emotional transitions, but fails to conjure up the image of a wounded, soulful
woman devolving into a creature of the flesh.”
The blogger finished by lamenting, “The uneven supporting cast is
mildly satisfactory but, hampered by Cummings’s approach and the lack of a compelling
Alma and John, it’s simply not strong enough to sustain interest in this
doleful revival.”
In Show-Score’s
lowest-rated notice (45), David Kaufman of TheaterScene.net
(not to be confused with TheaterScene.com,
quoted above) posited that Cummings’s Summer
and Smoke “never rises above the play’s failure [in 1948] to become
something of an accomplished piece.”
Kaufman complained about the lack of a set and that “the many players (a
dozen in all) are often reduced to charades, as they describe a new gaudy hat,
or a jigsaw puzzle, or gloves.” He
complimented Ireland somewhat wanly when he observed that “Alma is here played
by Marin Ireland with appropriately scenery-chewing effects.”
[I want to add two comments that don’t really
fit in the report above. One’s a simple
complaint (already stated by reviewer Elyse Sommer of CurtainUp: I found that policy of not handing out
programs until after the performance annoying and arrogant. I like to read the program before the show
and I like to be able to consult it at intermission. That’s especially true if, like the CSC
program for Summer and Smoke, there
are informative essays or articles about the play or production. But even if all there is are the credits, I
still like to look them over to see if there are any actors or other artists
whose work I know from before—or new artists about whom I know little. I usually take my seat in the auditorium
several minutes before the performance starts so I can look through the
program. It’s arrogant of the theater’s
leadership to take that traditional activity away from me on spurious grounds
that programs are some kind of distraction!
[The other note I
want to make is about the plumed hat mentioned both in the play and in my
report. This is an interesting little
bit of symbolism relating to Tennessee Williams view of himself and his family
heritage. Williams saw the two branches
of his family, the Dakins (his mother’s side) and the Williamses (his father’s
side) as descendents of the Puritans on the one hand and Cavaliers on the
other. He believed that his own nature
was torn by a conflict between these two sides of his personality—represented
in Summer and Smoke by Alma (Puritan) and John (Cavalier).
“Roughly there was a combination of puritan and Cavalier strains in my
blood which may be accountable for the conflicting impulses I often represent
in the people I write about,” the playwright wrote in 1952. The hat with a plume is a symbol of the
Cavalier side of Tennessee Williams’s nature; that’s why it’s in the play at
all. By the way, this isn’t a comment on
the CSC production. I just find it a
fascinating little fillip and I wanted to share it.]