American Stage's production of Craig Wright's The Pavilion is a complicated effort and deserves a complicated response. So here goes: On the plus side, the play boasts sporadic bursts of beautiful writing, likable characters struggling through a genuinely dramatic dilemma, a couple of skillful performances and a philosophical position that's worthy of serious thought. On the minus side, the show offers just a few too many silly jokes, a performance that treats femininity as something to be ridiculed, a set that borders on nonentity and a philosophical position that's too easy to debunk. Put it all together and you get an experience that's at times magical, at other times leaden. Can I recommend it? Yes, on balance. But beware of the hairpin turns.
At the core of The Pavilion is the encounter of Kari (Robin O'Dell) and Peter (Christopher Swan), two high-school sweethearts whose romance went bad when she became pregnant and he nervously skipped town. Now, 20 years later, Peter comes to their high school reunion at the Pavilion Dance Hall with one object in mind: to make his case, to woo Kari away from her golf pro husband and to make right what long ago went wrong. Problem is, Kari's still enraged at Peter for abandoning her and her unborn baby (whom she eventually aborted). As he tries, with increasing desperation, to break through her defenses, the party winds towards midnight, when the Pavilion will be burnt down, to be replaced by a more modern edifice.
If this sounds, more or less, like a naturalistic romantic drama, think again. Because the reunion is introduced to us by the mysterious Narrator (John Kevin Jones), who not only waxes philosophical at the drop of a hat, but also plays the roles of a dozen other partygoers, from the town police chief to the chief's wayward wife.
And it's not just the Narrator who has opinions on the Meaning Of It All. Scattered through various parts of the play are indications of a pessimistic but provocative philosophy that sees the earth as a fallen or "ruined" place in which people's lives naturally go wrong. Peter actually sings a song with the refrain "Down in the Ruined World," and tells the Narrator that he feels as if he's been on the "wrong train" for two decades. Kari, for her part, says, "Every molecule of my life is, like …17 degrees off from where it should have been." The couple spends many of the last crucial minutes of the play debating whether fissures in the past can be mended. You may find the play's worldview a tad too dark for your tastes, but at least author Wright has ideas that are worth contemplating.
And (still on the plus side) actors O'Dell and Swan make a likable, credible couple. O'Dell particularly is impressive as the wounded, angry Kari. Swan, though not very colorful, also turns in a memorable performance. Director Wendy Leigh has transformed the American Stage space into an in-the-round theater, and makes good use not only of the conventional playing area but also of the aisles going up into the audience. Joseph P. Oshry's lighting is pivotal in making dramatic transitions, and Amy J. Cianci's costumes are just right for these middle-class, mid-30s revelers.
And now for the downside.
It starts with the script itself, with the fatuous jokes that turn up too often in the first 15 minutes, thus misleading us about the real nature of the drama. Further, Kari's share of the dialogue is, in the first act anyway, mostly one redundant idea: Get away from me, Peter, you bother me. She loosens up in Act Two, and has some fine moments in the play's closing minutes, but one can't help but wish that author Wright had imagined her more fully.
Another script problem is the premise — I don't want to give anything away here — that people only get one chance in life; that if you choose wrong, like Peter did with Kari, the very texture of the universe will keep you from correcting your error. In a world of multiple marriages and ready divorces, this is hardly a defensible or even thinkable position. We all know people who have chosen new paths in middle age or later, and the fact of the matter is, some of these people are quite successful.
But much more problematic is actor Jones' portrayal of various women at the reunion. To put it bluntly, Jones treats femininity as something to be lampooned, to be played for laughs with the help of excessive gestures, absurd tones of voice and egregious facial contortions.
All this much ridicule comes off as misogynous, which surely can't be Wright's intention. Further, Jones as the Narrator treats some of his most difficult, philosophical speeches with such self-dramatizing excess as to make the subject matter seem overblown. Because these speeches are rather daring — more linguistically challenging than most of what you'll hear in a year of theatergoing — they need to be played down, not super-emphasized. Jones is at his best in the play's last seconds, when he's required to portray a whole group of characters in quick succession. But when he's not under such pressure, he overacts. And The Pavilion can't take it.
All that's left to bemoan is Scott Cooper's bland set: Little more than a raised platform and a bench, it suggests neither the interior of an old dance hall (Act One) nor the dock leading out to a lake (Act Two). This is a play about atmosphere, but Cooper's set is geometric, cold.
And that's The Pavilion. I only need to add that the contradictions in the play often follow fast upon one another, that at any given moment you might witness a scene of exquisite beauty or of the most ordinary plainness.
And still — and still it's just barely worth it.
Hot Ticket The most interesting of this weekend's plays looks to be So a Lawyer, a Priest and an Atheist Walk into a Bar… at the Shimberg Playhouse of the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center. The show features three top solo performers — Doug Cooney, John McGivern and Rob Nash — talking (comically, honestly) about their individual spiritual journeys. Expect some surprises. The show only runs for three days: Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m., and Sunday at 4. Tickets are $15.50. Call 813-229-STAR. Contact performing arts critic Mark E. Leib at mark.leib@weeklyplanet.com or call 813-248-8888, ext. 305.
This article appears in Sep 25 – Oct 1, 2002.