‘Grace and Glorie’ a sentimental journey
“Grace and Glorie” might best be described as a heartwarming tearjerker, all about female bonding and the power of the human spirit.
That may scare off some people (i.e., men), but even they should know that this is a well-crafted, well-acted drama, produced with solid professional values. And yes, at the end, you may even learn something about the power of the human spirit.
Playwright Tom Ziegler’s concept has the virtue of simplicity: A cantankerous 90-year-old Appalachian mountain woman, Grace, gets a visit in her dying days from a Type-A businesswoman, Glorie, who has moved from New York and become a hospice volunteer. The cranky Grace angrily tells Glorie that she doesn’t need any “Northern Yankee” to help her die.
If you can’t predict what’s going to happen next, then you haven’t watched enough Hallmark Hall of Fame specials, which is what “Grace and Glorie” once was. The two come to see that they are not so different after all. Before the final blackout, both women learn valuable life lessons from each other.
Yes, “Grace and Glorie” is unapologetically sentimental that way. Yet it works largely because of the sensitive and polished direction by Ellen Crawford (“ER’s” nurse Lydia Wright) and well-crafted performances by L.A. actresses Brady Rubin as Grace and Karen Kalensky as Glorie.
Rubin creates an instantly believable Grace with her tough-as-nails voice, querulous manner and helmet of white hair. Rubin also displays an accurate ear for mountain vocal cadences.
“Honey, when you’re 90 years old, death don’t come as no surprise,” Grace tells Glorie.
Rubin is also quick with the dry comic ripostes, usually delivered in response to some foolishness on the part of Glorie.
Ziegler resists the urge to get laughs by having the little old lady spout profanities; in fact, he goes the opposite direction and has Grace repeatedly admonish Glorie for taking the Lord’s name in vain.
“Why is the good Lord sending so many heathens across my path?” Grace beseeches at one point.
Rubin’s performance is especially impressive because Grace spends a lot of time in bed. Rubin must play whole scenes without benefit of body language. Yet when she does get out of bed, Rubin shows us that this tough old bird has, physically, become as fragile and delicate as a sparrow.
The part of Glorie is written largely as Grace’s foil, but Kalensky does an excellent job of portraying her as a certain type of well-off volunteer woman: bossy, entitled and more than a little smug. Yet that smugness breaks down quickly in this mountain cabin, where Glorie has to deal with woodstoves, scampering rodents and eggs that were not purchased, but gathered.
“You mean, like, from chickens?” says Glorie, appalled.
Kalensky does a good job of showing us that the smugness is just a front. It vanishes completely when Glorie has to explain the hurt that lies closest to her heart – the death of her son.
Crawford’s direction keeps the plot moving as briskly as possible – a challenge, since the script has no other characters and only the barest of subplots involving a developer despoiling Grace’s farm. Yet Crawford and her two actors make the most of the comic sparks between the two and the intimate bond they form in the second act.
Crawford and set designer Maynard Villers also do a good job of evoking a down-at-heels mountain life, with a pump instead of a faucet and the heirloom china packed away in boxes.
Ziegler’s script too often reaches for the easy, crowd-pleasing sentiment. The line, “It’s a mystery to me how the world has survived as long as it has in the hands of men,” evoked a big round of applause. And some of the revelatory monologues were on the overwrought side.
Still, there’s an undeniable pleasure in watching two actresses create strong, living characters, in a play designed to uplift. At Christmas time, especially, we need that.