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The Glass Menagerie
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Sullivan, Sbarge, Robinson
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By T. H. MCCULLOH
After the original opening night of Tennessee Williams' autobiographical
The Glass Menagerie in Chicago, the playwright's mother went backstage and
stopped at Laurette Taylor's dressing room to congratulate her. Taylor asked,
"How did you like me playing you?" Mrs. Williams stared open-mouthed. "Why,
whatevah do you me-uhn?" she wondered. She had no idea that her son had based
Amanda Wingfield on herself.
Anyone who has grown up in the south has known at least one or two
Amandas. They're full of ante bellum pride, they're control freaks, and they
can be very charming when they wish to be. But it's a charm they pour over
their real personalities, like sorghum, as gooey and false as it can be. They
smile, but they're ready to strike, like a cottonmouth.
Television's Susan Sullivan, who is playing Amanda in the current revival
of the play at the Pasadena Playhouse, is one of those actresses who wants
the audience to love her. She misses Amanda by a mile, and it puts a big
hole in the production. Her son Tom's anger and frustration has no place to
go, nothing to fight against. This Amanda is from a 1950s family sitcom, and
it makes Tom look very much like a nasty brat, which he was never meant to
be, and gives him little reason to make the violent flight away from Amanda
at the end of the play.
On top of that, Sullivan is a very mannered actress, bent on making her
Amanda glamorous and kittenish, and lovable. One wishes the door to the
Wingfield's tacky St. Louis hovel weren't left open so long. Sullivan's
nervous hands seem to be continually brushing flies away as punctuation to her
lines, and her deep-knee bends, to make a point, look silly.
It's a shame. Director Andrew J. Robinson has otherwise staged a vibrant
and very individualistic revival of Williams' "memory play," making it look
very much as though the celebrity was part of the package before he came
aboard. Robinson's intent is clear and focused, and his production floats
through the dream-like setting by John Iacovelli, made to look like a misty
recollection by J. Kent Inasy's warm, subtle lighting design.
Raphael Sbarge is a marvelous Tom, full of desperate fire and urgent
passions, like a volcano waiting to erupt. He brings new tones to Williams'
alter ego, an intricacy of subtext, and an expert understanding of the poetic
tones of Williams' writing. It's a shame Tom's mother just stands there
grinning at him most of the time.
Rachel Robinson, as Tom's sister Laura, has a very lost quality that is
totally effective, always seeming to be in another world, sometimes just
staring into that world even when her mother or brother are speaking to her.
It works. The young Gentleman Caller Tom brings home from the shoe factory
where he is forced to work in this Depression world, is Jim O'Connor, Laura's
high school idol, a nasty coincidence that builds the wall around Laura's
little world even higher. Tony Crane couldn't be more right for the role, and
he plays it for all its worth, a momentary loser who obviously will win his
way out of the factory and rise in the world. Crane's Jim is a really nice
guy, and his gentle understanding of Laura's problems and his inner strength
give Crane's performance a nice glow.
The Glass Menagerie, Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena.
Tuesdays-Fridays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 5 and 9 p.m.; Sundays, 2 and 7 p.m. Ends
June 18. $13.50-$33.50. (800) 233-3123. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes.
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