I'll admit it: I look for the occasional idea in a work of drama. By "idea" I don't necessarily mean something earth-shattering. I'm satisfied with a slightly new perspective, a mildly original sentiment, an angle on things that, however limited, is still provocative.
Some plays, I've discovered, supply ideas in abundance: Sam Shepard's Buried Child has much to say about original sin in America; Caryl Churchill's Cloud 9 challenges conventional concepts of gender and race; and David Mamet in Speed-the-Plow has an opinion to share about the difficulties of virtue in a world ruled by money.
Other plays, like the short one-acts of David Ives, are less ambitious but still pleasing. They offer modest ideas about first dates (Sure Thing) or serial partner-changing (Seven Menus) or how to succeed on those days when everything goes wrong (The Philadelphia). In these cases, as in plays of greater breadth, I leave the theater knowing something I didn't when I walked in. And though I don't rank an Ives with a Shepard or Churchill, in every case I feel gratitude: Thanks to the playwright, I've actually seen something new. Sitting quietly in my seat, I've moved closer to the truth.
I offer these thoughts as an explanation of why I'm mostly unimpressed by The Floridians 2005, the latest offering of one-acts by the LiveArts Peninsula Foundation at the Murray Theatre of Ruth Eckerd Hall. LiveArts' mission is to turn Florida life into live drama, and these three plays, set in Key West, Orlando's Gatorland and a local forest, certainly do that. But in the best of them – Doug Cooney's comically lyrical Live Alligator Wrestling – the playwright doesn't seem to have any original ideas about his subject; and the play with the most ideas, David F. Smith's Wallace Stevens at Key West, is also the most unconvincing.
Then there's Jeff Whipple's The Cutting Edge of Amenities, with its predictable characters, uninteresting dialogue, and, again, paucity of real thought. It's good that LiveArts exists, proving that you don't have to live in New York or London to be worthy of artistic portraiture. But whether set in Paris or Pahokee, plays should stimulate, should matter, should be worth our time and ticket money. The Floridians 2005 only really satisfies one out of three times. It's not a winning percentage.
The best of the one-acts is, as I've said, Live Alligator Wrestling. In this beautifully written play, author Doug Cooney tells the story of Owen and "Miss Pearl" Godwin, the founders of central Florida's Gatorland. With a gentle touch and an ear for the ridiculous detail, Cooney shows us two lovers who start with a trench in their backyard and eventually create a cockamamie theme park dedicated to the proposition that "Florida is crawling with two things. Reptiles. And tourists."
Cooney's dialogue is deliciously funny, and his respect for the love bonding Owen and Miss Pearl is palpable in every scene. The dialog is superb, and so is the acting of Susan Alexander as Miss Pearl and Pete Bauer as Owen. Alexander is one of the Bay area's brightest lights, and it's a pleasure to see her on stage again after a long absence. Her Miss Pearl is gentle but strong, a lovely soul who grudgingly comes to accept and encourage her husband's odd inspirations.
As that husband, Bauer is seriously silly, seeing acres of gators where ordinary men just see a lawn to mow. He characteristically assumes that it should be no trouble at all finding an employee to wrestle this or that eight-footer.
Roz Potenza's direction is luminous: she gives her actors free rein to charm us, and she can't be blamed if author Cooney, at key moments, has no special insights. Still, Live Alligator Wrestling brings the Godwins back to life; maybe that's enough to justify the excursion.
Harder to justify are the other two plays. Jeff Whipple's The Cutting Edge of Amenities has a wonderful premise: condominium developer and realtor wander into a Florida forest in order to plan its demise when they're confronted by an enormous, angry, talking mosquito.
The problem here is that the developer is a stereotype of a money man with no respect for nature, and the mosquito is a bore, repeatedly threatening the humans with all sorts of mayhem and refusing to die even when sprayed with Malathion. The only unpredictable character here is Sharon, the feminist realtor and would-be novelist who finds in the mosquito an ally against the lecherous Stan.
But Whipple's dialogue is tiresome, and there's hardly a moment when these characters really surprise us. The script naturally affects the acting: Even a thespian as talented as Steven Clark Pachosa can't turn cartoonish Stan into a credible human, and Emilia Sargent as Sharon has to struggle for her three dimensions.
As the insect, Carolyn Zaput is shrill and unconvincing – it's remarkable how quickly she ceases to be funny. If there's an original idea in this concoction, it's this: Even a 300-pound mosquito needs good lines. Without them – and without any new ideas to carry the action – Amenities remains a terrific premise poorly executed.
Finally, Wallace Stevens at Key West by David F. Smith actually ventures some original thoughts – but they're not very persuasive. Smith shows us a Stevens who's being challenged by his Muse to finally write from the heart after years of writing from the head. He does; and the result is his celebrated The Idea of Order in Key West.
But Smith treats this difficult poem as if it were truer, and more emotional, than the ones that preceded it, a claim which is by no means self-evident. Meanwhile, the acting is mixed: Pachosa is fine as middle-aged poet Stevens, but Genevieve Alleyne is a Muse with neither charisma nor complexity. Van Huff's direction is adequate if not inspired; the best this play has to offer is Pachosa reciting The Idea of Order from memory. The worst: a Muse who's confusingly bland.
Oh well. Even with these failings, the LiveArts mission remains an important one. There's something splendid in its insistence that Florida life is worth dramatizing, that Gatorland is as worthy of a play as is Mount Rushmore or the Statue of Liberty. Which is another way of saying, I'm a LiveArts fan regardless of any one production's failings.
And I have no doubt there will be better – and more thoughtful – Floridians in years to come.
This article appears in Feb 16-22, 2005.