6/22/2014 TRASH DAY Out of Box Theatre
***** ( A+ )
IN PRAISE OF STUFF
My wife and I are out of step. I like stuff. She likes purging stuff. I have Birthday Cards I received over forty years ago. She throws hers out a week after she gets them I have programs from almost every play I've seen EVER. If she keeps a program longer than the trip home from the theatre, it's only because she wrote a note to herself in the margins. Our crawl space and our garage are overrun with all the lovely stuff I've accumulated since the days of Eisenhower. She keeps saying that when I die, the day after the funeral, she'll put a dumpster in front of the house for a post-Dedalus purge. It's my incentive for longevity.
Which is all to say I wish she had been with me to see Trash Day, Dave Lauby's very funny play about the joys of hoarding and the rewards it can bring. Just so I can win some "Neener Neener" points.
Mawmaw and Pawpaw Wolley have been put on notice that their stuff-ridden house has been condemned by the city (Smyrna) and will be razed in thirty days. Clean-up ain't gonna happen -- for every relic rushed to curb for pickup, three new ones seem to find their way back. They'll get no help from daughter Glenda, who is out making what little money comes in, or from grandson James (I'm sorry, "Jackson!"), who is in the heap in the carport nursing a pregnant cat. New neighbors next door arrive to complicate things, local bullies are never far away, and a sleazy assistant-assistant building-code mucky-muck keeps sniffing around Glenda, offering a "way out" that may or may not be legitimate.
Faster than you can say "it all happens at once," kittens are squealing, snakes are slithering, shotguns are blasting, fireworks are bursting, teenagers are whining, yada yada yada. And it all looks bleak until {Deleted by the Spoiler Police, who insist that plots are easier to spoil than hoarded junk}.
Allegedly based on a real family, Mr. Lauby's story makes any such anecdotal provenance irrelevant. He has created a very real (seeming) family, and, especially in the hands of Whit Davies and Carolyn Choe, made a pair of comic characters that vibrate with vitality. If not based on a real couple, it may be a better world if a few real couples would model themselves on them. Constantly sniping at each other with snappy insults and grudging affection, Mawmaw and Pawpaw transcend the easy stereotype of "red neck" hoarders, and make us like, even love them.
The other characters come to life with equal ease, particularly the new neighbor, Mike, played with smiling charm by Sean Haley and his daughter, Allegrae, a winningly sulky almost-a-teenager played by Hannah Love.
But the real breakout performance here is given by young Brody Rose, who brings nine-year-old James (I'm sorry, "Jackson!") to life. Master Rose has accumulated in his few short years an impressive on-screen resume (he will be appearing in a recurring role later this summer in Stephen King's "Under the Dome" on CBS). Here, he proves equally adept at capturing the hearts and minds of a jaded theatre audience, creating a character who is red-neck stubborn, but can melt into puddles if the subject turns to beanie babies, kittens, or that cute older girl who just moved in next door. It goes without saying that he is just as adorable in bare-bellied splendor (his "costume" for most of the play) as he is in a '70's white polyester disco suit (don't ask).
I also liked Amy Cain's frazzled and (slightly) trashy Glenda as well as her nemesis, Travis Young's sleazy almost-a-politician, Ray. Other roles are filled in by Evan Ruede, Andrew Bourne, Stepp Goins, Griffin Braid, and Sharon Zinger. (Mathew Merkle will take over the role of James-I'm-Sorry-Jackson for the final weekend.)
Kudos are also very much earned by Christopher Dills' marvelously evocative set. Yes, Out of Box's wee size overcrowds the stage and necessitates smaller-than-real-life doors and carports and staircases, but it also emphasizes the clutter of the Wolley's yard, making blocking an easy task (not many places to go). Directed by Ms. Choe, the blocking nevertheless never goes static or "posed." This was a fast-paced production that used a limited venue to optimum advantage.
This is Mr. Lauby's second script to be produced in the past year or so (after the Collective Project's mounting of The Great McAnigan last year), and I look forward to what he has for us next. He has a flair for character, for plotting, and for snarky dialogue that sings from the stage. He also has a wicked sense of humor that seems to mesh very well with my own.
And I have to praise anyone who can write a play that gives me "Neener Neener" points with my wife. I have such a deficit.
-- Brad Rudy (BKRudy@aol.com #CouchSleepingAgain #OutOfBox #TrashDay)
For the record, "Hoarding Disorder" and its opposite, " Spartanism," are both listed as obsessive-compulsive conditions, that can disrupt lives and relationships. I suspect everyone is somewhere on a spectrum between the two extremes, with the healthiest place being in the middle. I also suspect my wife and I are nowhere near that "healthy center."