The best acting is nothing short of magical. How could it be scientifically possible that persons pretending to be characters they aren’t, speaking lines that aren’t their own, involved in actions distant in space and time from their real lives in 2013, can nonetheless convince us that they are Prince Hamlet and Blanche DuBois and Oedipus and Lady Macbeth? How can they make us lose our good sense, the sense that reminds us we’re in a theater building watching our contemporaries, real citizens who live just up the street? Great acting isn’t logical, calculable, reasonable — it’s magic. So much for those who think that everything in this world is reducible to an algorithm.
You think I exaggerate? Then go to Tampa’s Channel District and watch Dennis Duggan play mentally challenged Lenny in John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men at Stageworks. Lenny is a big galumph of a guy, a childlike adult male who loves small animals but has the bad habit of crushing the ones he thinks he’s caressing. He’s devoted to his friend George, who alone among humans is allowed to hit him with impunity, and he’s dangerous around women who wear soft clothes and treat him gently. This innocent but lethal simpleton is played so perfectly by Duggan, I can only imagine that he is this way, wandered onto the Stageworks premises from 1930s California, needs a police guard in transit to and from the theater, has to be kept away from rabbits and friendly girls in Tampa neighborhoods. Everything about this portrayal is definitive, from the infantile way Duggan speaks to the worry lines on his weary face. Sure, I know Duggan’s not Lenny. But I can’t tell them apart. And this is uncanny.
Which is not to say that there aren’t other fine performances in this drama’s 10-member cast. As George, Lenny’s protector, Nathan Jokela turns in good, sturdy work, easily convincing us that even though he’s got weaknesses of his own, he’s a good man and a faithful friend. When he and Lenny find work on yet another Depression-era farm, they meet a group that will have lasting effects on both of them. There’s Curly (the excellent Cornelio Aguilera) the Boss’s son, who suffers from twice the usual dose of human aggression; and Slim (the solid Peter J. Konowicz), who better than anyone knows how to keep his head when everyone else is losing theirs. There’s Crooks (the wonderful Robert Richards) who responds to the era’s anti-black prejudice with some strictures of his own; and there’s Candy (the fine Bob Mroczkowsky), who makes the perilous choice of throwing in his fate with the two new guys.
Then there’s a performance that’s not entirely successful but still manages to make its impact. Jessica Kerner Scruggs plays Curly’s (unnamed) wife as an indiscriminate seducer who “makes eyes” at just about every man, and who looks for any excuse to hang out with guys who aren’t her husband. In a key scene, this character says that she seeks the men’s company because Curly is never home, and she’s not about to spend the whole day doing nothing but cooking for him. This is credible; but Scruggs plays her like a slut, slinks around, flaps her eyelashes, and tries so hard to look vixenish, she seems a parody of a femme fatale. I can’t know exactly what Steinbeck intended with this character, but I think an approach more in keeping with her self-image — as a woman who refuses to accept marginalization — would make a lot more sense. Still, by the end of the evening, Scruggs’ performance becomes powerful.
The other actors are tolerable if not outstanding. Richard Coppinger’s direction is sure-handed, and Frank Chavez’s set, an enormous shed which opens up to be the California farm’s bunkhouse — is terrifically detailed. The farmworkers’ costumes, by Mike & Kathy Buck Designs, are impeccable, as is Karla Hartley’s countryish sound design. The superb lighting is by Mike Wood.
But the reason to see this show, besides the plot’s intrinsic interest, is the magical Dennis Duggan. Is this acting or something supernatural? I tend to think the latter. And if that doesn’t convince you, let me try another tack: this is some of the best acting I’ve ever seen. Ever. Anywhere.
Go ahead, be a skeptic. But buy a ticket.
You’ll see.
This article appears in May 9-15, 2013.