Civic’S ‘Menagerie’ Absolutely First-Rate
“The Glass Menagerie” Sunday afternoon, Feb. 21, Spokane Civic Theatre
The box office lines snaked out to the sidewalk. By the end of the day, every ticket had disappeared for the entire four-week run of “The Glass Menagerie,” with Patty Duke. And this was last Tuesday, the first day of ticket sales, before anybody had even seen the show.
This was probably a testament to star power. Yet now, having seen the show, we can say with utter confidence: It would have sold out anyway, strictly on the show’s depth and quality. It would have been a must-see even if nobody had ever heard of Patty Duke, even if she was a dedicated amateur like the other fine performers in this cast.
This “Menagerie” is an exceptional interpretation of one of the most beautifully written of American plays, and one of the strongest productions I’ve ever seen on the Civic’s Main Stage. Dreamlike, lyrical, funny, bittersweet and in the end, devastating, it’s everything that a production of Tennessee Williams’ classic ought to be.
Not all of this can be credited to Duke. The conception and execution by co-directors Charles Kenfield and John G. Phillips are haunting in tone and note-perfect in presentation. The production values are utterly professional. All four members of the cast contribute mightily to the show’s success.
But no doubt, Duke’s performance is the central strength of the show, and this has nothing to do with star power. It has everything to do with Williams’ creation of the dominating, wellmeaning and endlessly talkative Amanda Wingfield. Any actress who plays this role must be the show’s central strength, because Amanda is the central strength of this flawed and failing family. Duke’s contribution here is not as star but as a dang fine actress.
Her voice is a devastating weapon, moving from cooing, birdlike tones as she reminisces about her 17 gentleman callers to a chain-saw rasp when thwarted.
“Then you go to the moon, you selfish dreamer!” she screams to her son Tom in the play’s most desolating moment.
Duke had confessed to a bit of stage fright in the weeks before opening - she has not been on stage for 10 years - yet her performance conveyed confidence and mastery. Her Mississippi accent is unwavering, her body language graceful and her line delivery flawless. She has created an Amanda Wingfield as well-defined and real as any I’ve seen, and that includes Katharine Hepburn’s. I was pleased to see that the directors did not give her a “star” entrance at the beginning. She is introduced unobtrusively with the other characters. She is Amanda.
The rest of the cast rises to the same standards. Craig Rickett is a tall, poetic, brooding Tom, chain-smoking beneath a cast-iron street lamp in black watch cap and peacoat. Yet he is a tremendously empathetic Tom, too. We feel that he truly does want to heal his damaged little family; but that, in the end, there is simply nothing he can do but leave.
Tami Grady once again gives a sensitive and enigmatic performance as the painfully shy Laura, who is frightened of life and has retreated into her world of little glass animals. Grady’s open and expressive face, halting walk and even more halting speech created a heartbreakingly self-conscious Laura.
When her “gentleman caller” waltzes her around the floor and then kisses her, we see what Laura could have become with an understanding friend and lover. It is both the tragedy and the power of “The Glass Menagerie” that this glimpse of happiness is offered and then snatched away.
Michael K. Hynes is an open and boisterous Gentleman Caller, who brings some of the good-hearted aura of a John Goodman to this difficult role. Hynes makes the character truly well-meaning, truly unself-conscious, and truly sorry that he cannot do better by shy, lovely Laura.
Original director Kenfield was forced to drop out during rehearsals for health reasons, but I assume most of the credit for the show’s concept belongs to him, and plenty of credit is due. The show is loaded with evocative touches, from the low, sorrowful saxophones during Tom’s street monologues to the flashing red light from the neighboring ballroom which symbolically frames the portrait of the family’s rogue patriarch.
Credit for the execution, I would assume, belongs to Phillips, who took over halfway through rehearsals. In any case, the result is a well-balanced combination of realism - we are there, in St. Louis, in the ‘30s - and reality heightened by memory.
The sets and lights, designed with inspiration by Peter Hardie, contribute brilliantly. The Wingfield apartment itself hints at past grandeur - big, polished wooden columns framing the dining room yet showing evidence of a seedier present. Outside, the cast-iron landing and the fire escape overhead give a sense of urban claustrophobia.
And then we have the script itself. This may be Williams’ finest work and undoubtedly his most innocent. It is steeped in the grim realities of his family life and yet touched with poetic symbolism - Malvolio’s coffin, representing Tom’s feeling of being trapped in his family, and, of course, the glittering image of the glass animals, demonstrating how easily family ties can be shattered.
Patty Duke had no practical reason to do this show. It won’t pay her anywhere near what her TV work does; in fact, it will in effect pay her nothing. It does cost her, in terms of the anxiety and sheer hard work of live theater. It will not gain her any credit in Hollywood, where Spokane is not a blip on anyone’s radar.
So the only possible reason for her to do this is for sheer love of the theater and respect for a timeless play. We, in the audience, reap the rewards.