Sheila Cowley’s Flying is one of the finest things I’ve seen all year — so much so that I’m going to take family to see it when it comes to St. Pete next week. Under Robin Gordon's expert hand, Sheila Cowley’s bittersweet work of love and loss and inequality and denial comes to life. By the end of the show, you want to see more of these actors. The five performers present and answer many questions, but it’s the ones left unanswered that have this show — days later — still tumbling around in my mind.
Let’s back up. Sheila Cowley, a St. Pete local, wrote Flying. It had its Equity premiere at the Chenango River Theatre in Greene, NY, this past May, and now Tampa Rep has chosen to open its season with the southeastern premiere of this play about women who returned from flying military planes in WWII to find they were… well, back to being not as good as men. Never mind they flew planes that were beyond repair; never mind they were the targets the “real” fighter pilots would practice dogfighting with; never mind that, as the play progresses, you begin to suspect that Susan — Sue — McCallan (Becca McCoy), not her husband Bob, is and always has been the brains behind not only their business, but their lives: This is 1940s America, when the American Dream was supposed to climax with the ladies wearing aprons as they bounced babies on their knee (and probably not climaxing much at all) — not rebuilding the cylinder head on a Beechcraft. And so there’s the plot, and that’s all of the story you’ll get — this isn’t a book report, and if you want to know more, buy a ticket. It’s worth it, and here’s why:
This production combines one of the strongest actresses in Tampa Bay — Becca McCoy — with a story that, while not new, is fresh — and complicated. Give McCoy a role like McCallan, and she’ll give you more of it than most, in nuances and subtleties. I walked into the theater thinking I would most likely see a pleasant play that would talk about women being oppressed and blah blah blah. That’s not what I got, and I’m grateful — our local arts scene needs the nuances of plays (and other forms of art) like this.
Case in point: Rory Fisher (Justin Smith, who went from Florida to TV land and now is back, at least for this show), plays a wounded — we would have called it crippled in the ’40s — veteran who shows up at the McCallan hangar looking for work Bob promised him in the war. It’s clear from the beautifully dilapidated hangar (Allen B. Loyd’s set design is as much a character as any of the five humans on stage) that there is no extra work at this airfield. Cowley doesn’t make the lack of finances a heavy fist — more like a gentle butterfly kiss. None of the conflict would be that different if the power bill wasn’t past due, but it gives the show an edge that helps build the tension with Rory and…
And who, exactly? Sue? Laura (Rosemary Orlando, versatile and talented as ever)? Lucy (Holly Marie Weber)? Well, best as we can ascertain, Rory’s a young man filled with the adult horrors of war and murder but also a young man’s libido, and behaves accordingly. He’s tortured and, well, sexy. Not intentionally — Smith shows us his internal struggles with small nuances and larger moments (he could play a better drunk, but since he’s already doing a spectacular job playing a crippled vet who has killed people, it’s a minor distraction), and commands the stage from the moment he steps onto it. Even nervously waiting at the perceived entrance to the hangar, hoping for work, his energy adds a compelling dimension that levels the playing field of three (women) against two (men). McCoy plays against him perfectly — they build a Ross-and-Rachel kind of chemistry across two acts — and if everything these two (or three, or four) — actors do with the sexual tension isn’t completely comprehensible, that makes it more believable, because that’s how life works. No pretty bows here, but not so far from seeing a less-complicated ending that it leaves us frustrated.
This review doesn’t even scratch the surface; I could write a research paper on the interactions of the characters. In short: McCoy and Smith ruled the stage, Orlando made me long to hear more of her story (and please, please, someone from Tampa Rep tell whichever uncredited person who did her body makeup how much I appreciated their divine work) and Joseph Parra, as Sue’s father, was perfect and played more dynamically than a lessor actor would have.
When Flying heads to St. Pete's Studio@620 this weekend, I’ll see it again. This play does more than fly; it soars.
Cathy Salustri is the Arts + Entertainment editor for Creative Loafing Tampa. Contact her here.
This article appears in Sep 27 – Oct 3, 2001.