TampaWorks 2015: Play Local
Fri. and Sat., June 19-20, at 8 p.m.; Sun., June 21, at 3 p.m. at Stageworks Theatre, 1120 E. Kennedy Blvd., Tampa. Tickets are $23. Buy one ticket, get one free by purchasing online at stageworkstheatre.com and using code TWBOGO at checkout.
One of the things to like about Stageworks Theatre is that dedication to local playwrights seems to be in the company’s DNA. Almost since the very beginning, it has devoted time, resources and talent to showcasing short pieces by area writers, and the annual production devoted to their work is as much an indication of the arrival of summer as anything else in our neck of the woods.
Gorilla Theatre also uses this time of year to showcase the Young Dramatists Project, which showcases the material of high school-age writers (always an underrepresented demographic), and so it makes sense that the two groups would join forces to present TampaWorks 2015, which they bill as “Two weekends of original plays about Tampa Bay by local playwrights.”
Of course, with any evening representing multiple authors, the pieces will inevitably vary in terms of quality, and TampaWorks 2015 is no exception. In general, it seemed as if the older writers fared better, presenting moments in time when a protagonist was coherently motivated to change, for better or worse. The pieces from the younger folks often felt less cohesive, ideas not fleshed out or rushed to conclusion or (worst of all) derivative of film (though I’m not saying plays cannot be like films — it’s just that there are basic stylistic differences that should be adhered to). This was not always the case, however — a couple of the older playwrights could have developed their work more, and in at least one case, a young writer produced a surprisingly mature one-act.
The evening starts off with Eight Miles High by Paul Wilborn, which takes us into the cockpit of a plane but spends way too much time in the dark so that placards can be changed telling the audience how far into the flight the two men are and how much fuel is left. Also, the play starts with a light tone but suddenly, inexplicably shifts gears as it becomes apparent (or not) that the pilot might have ulterior motives for bringing a particular passenger along.
Elevator by Sheila Cowley dances around the notion of missed romantic opportunity as a man and a woman and a gorilla interact in said elevator. There was an absurdist quality here that worked well, even though the use of the gorilla (played quite expressively by Ryan Bernier) as a metaphor (I assume) was more obscure than it needed to be.
The first act ended with two more pieces by young writers. The Blue Troll by Savannah Pearson, about a camp counselor with an over-fondness for children, could have benefited from more dramatic intensity. Woman Laughing Alone Eating Salad by Regan Moore has some interesting ideas about our obsession with social media (the lead female is told “You’re stock-photo famous!” at one point, as if that’s a good thing), though her series of scenes felt hurried and were done before the audience could take it in.
Things began to really pick up with The Mata Hari of Hillsborough by Barbara St. Clair. This one may have had one of the more obvious Tampa connections — the ridiculous hijinks of the lawyers in the infamous “shock jock” trial — but was quite deft in showing us the inner workings of someone who otherwise might have been dismissed by the media. This one was further enhanced by fine acting by both Caroline Jett (who had some of the best lines, like “If I were you, I’d wear that like a mink coat, girlfriend”) and Katie Castonguay.
And then we got The Shoe Department by Philip Hall. As an aging father who still longs for his wife and the son who deals with the situation the best way he knows how, with humor (“I’m not gonna make out with you, Dad”), Greg Thompson and Ryan Bernier give powerful, emotional performances. Hall should be applauded for writing spare, beautiful, natural dialogue.
As if that weren’t good enough, however, Alice Darrow’s The Gardener’s Fault followed. The eye and ear this fresh-out-of-high-school writer has for dialogue and dramatic situations is nothing short of amazing. Caitlin Eason and Larry Bokovey are absolutely astonishing as a married couple dealing with the continuing emotional tragedy of losing babies in utero. Eason in particular is heartbreaking as she channels her increasing mental instability into the planting of flowers, as Bokovey has to keep reminding her that “not every flower was meant to bloom, but it’s not the gardener’s fault.” When she turns her eyes to the sky and realizes “the sun’s your mother,” it is cathartic beyond words.
The evening ends with Big Bird by David Warner (editor-in-chief of this publication), about a couple in Florida and the too-big-birds (all played by human actors) that intimidate the husband. Its sharp-edged whimsy provided relief from the previous piece, and its spot-on summation of this state we live in (“The birds are bigger, the people are weirder, and the humidity is disgusting”) was a nice way to end the evening.
Uneven though it may have been, the night was a reminder that there are individuals out there who are still putting words to paper. Kudos to Stageworks and Gorilla for taking those words and making them ring on stage — I hope they keep doing so for a long time to come.
This article appears in Jun 11-17, 2015.