What do you do with a show that feels nice enough but then hits you square in the feels right at the end?
That’s the conundrum with Stageworks Theatre’s current show, “Ordinary Days.” Stageworks Theatre gives you 90 minutes of song — mostly uptempo stuff — and four characters walking through life in a series of not-so-exciting events.
Deb is in grad school. Warren’s a cat-sitter for an artist. Jason is moving in with Claire. Claire’s bitchy AF. If not exciting, it’s enjoyable enough. The performance sails along easily, with peppy songs (albeit Ricky Cona’s rainbow-Converse-clad Warren gets the zippity-doo-dah-est of them all) and an easy-to-follow story. I sat, content if not overwhelmed, with the happiness (how often do you get to do that these days?) and thought about the technical aspects of the show and one hell of a piano player (Stageworks Musical Director Steve McColley does an enchanting job with the score).
IF YOU GO
“Ordinary Days” at Stageworks Theatre
1120 E. Kennedy Blvd., Ste. 151, Tampa
Through Nov. 17. $35-$40.
Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat.-Sun., 3 p.m.
stageworkstheatre.org.
Ordinary, but simply happy, I thought… and then Heather Krueger’s Claire, who I’d liked the least throughout the first 75 minutes, had me in tears. From the sound of sniffles in the small theater, I wasn’t alone.
I won’t tell you why she had me crying, but I’ll tell you this: Put up with her. Claire is by far the least likable person in “Ordinary Days,” so much so that I found myself trying to discern whether I liked her voice, performance or character the least. Spoiler alert: It’s her character. Her character, for much of the performance, is an intolerable bitch. Kruger plays her splendidly, and it’s only at the end of the show that I realize she did such a tremendous job that what I saw as performance failures were actually creative decisions designed to make me think Claire was an asshole.
If we don’t like Claire — at least, not right away — we love Deb, the grad student seeking… something. Alison Burns is luminescent as Deb, and also a touch reminiscent of Helen Hunt, except with more ennui. It’s a happy sort of ennui, though, and — as with every show in which I’ve seen Burns — compelling and delightful. We might not care about the ordinary days and ordinary lives, but we care about watching Burns. She’s magic onstage, and she lends that magic to this production.
Tron Montgomery gives us a beautiful Jason, an upbeat counterpoint to his shrewish girlfriend Claire, and Cona’s Warren offers a less tortured alternative to his reluctant new BFF Deb.
It’s all lovely, but, as I said, the magic of these ordinary days comes right at the end.
The production isn’t without problems: Costumes feel under-designed (oddly, Krueger, who doubled as the costume designer, had the least flattering ensemble), and the sound levels were uneven (Montgomery’s gorgeous voice got lost between the piano and other voices onstage too many times). It’s not reasonable to expect people to do two or three jobs and do them all well.
But don’t let that deter you. Instead, let it inform you that despite some technical hiccups, this show is one worth watching. At the risk of sounding… well, ordinary, here’s the takeaway: You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll enjoy it.
And, if at times the show brushes up against (or even waltzes with) the ordinary, you can forgive it, because the moments of incandescence happen, too. Those moments, incidentally, are the moments that will stay with you long after you leave the show.
And here’s something more — Adam Gwon’s lyrics from the show, quoted in the program for good reason:
“Things aren’t beautiful on their own. Beautiful comes from reflection… Beautiful takes a person who makes a connection… For beautiful to happen, the beautiful has got to be seen.”
That’s “Ordinary Days” in a nutshell: It’s not beautiful on its own, but once you reflect and see the story, you realize it’s an extraordinarily beautiful show indeed.
Contact Cathy Salustri via email.
Follow @cl_tampabay on Twitter to get the most up-to-date news + views. Subscribe to our newsletter, too.
This article appears in Nov 7-14, 2019.