Photo by Stage Photography of Tampa via Jobsite Theater/Flickr
Annie Wilkes (Summer Bohnenkamp, L) torments her favorite author (David Jenkins), whom she happens to be holding hostage until he can ressurect her favorite literary character.
As Chief Programming and Marketing Officer at the David A. Straz, Jr. Center for the Performing Arts, and co-Founder/Producing Artistic Director for Jobsite Theater, respectively, they are well-known across the Bay area as artists and artistic advocates.
They’re also longtime, personal friends.
Both of these facts have had no influence over the following critical analysis of “Misery,” the wonderfully minimalist stage production of the Stephen King classic novel, based on William Goldman’s stage adaptation of the script he wrote for the 1990 film by Rob Reiner, which stars Jenkins as author Paul Sheldon and Bohnenkamp as Annie Wilkes, his number one fan.
Running a lean, spirited 90 minutes, “Misery” is a delight, a wonderfully dark and caustically funny examination of celebrity, creativity and the deep impact that fictional characters can have on real people struggling to keep the lines from blurring.
There’s a reason Kathy Bates won an Academy Award for her portrayal of Wilkes way back in 1991.
The character is just too good, too well-written, which could prove intimidating to any actor unsure about inhabiting Wilkes’ unpredictable storm of childlike wonder and malicious violence.
Thank goodness that Bohnenkamp displays zero hesitation, even when her character is essentially torturing her real-life husband. It is exhilarating to watch, and to marvel at each subtle shift in her demeanor and facial expressions that gives way to a torrent of emotion, sometimes jubilant and other times terrifying.
This is just a standout performance that deserves more than critical raves. It’s a template for young, aspiring thespians to study and absorb.
Not that Jenkins isn’t equally as good as the hobbled author. His curmudgeonly gruff-and-huff exterior is spot-on, which makes the occasional moments of charm equally effective. And don’t let the fact that Jenkins spends a majority of his time either confined to a bed, or navigating a wheelchair with both of his legs in braces, fool you into thinking he’s not exerting plenty of energy. He deftly maneuvers through such restrictive settings with ease.
The physical horror of “Misery,” by now, is well-documented and iconic. Hell, even the sledgehammer appears in promotional materials, looming large. And the build-up to that moment is thick with anticipation. What I wasn’t expecting was an equally impressive, and surprisingly bloody, practical effect that happens late in the play. It’s so unexpected that I felt pinned to my seat for a good 15-to-20 seconds afterward.
If there’s a complaint, it’s simply that the finale culminates with a sequence that will be familiar to anyone who has seen the film, but also that feels rushed and almost in stark contrast to the meticulously calibrated 80 minutes that preceded it. Even writing that feels like nitpicking.
“Misery” is a rollicking production that welcomes your nostalgia and then upends your expectations, making the familiar feel fresh and new, thanks in large part to Bohnenkamp and Jenkins’ enormous talent and their total commitment to these characters that we know and love.
