Some Kind of Love Story
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Barkette, Kehler
Photo by Enci
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By Ben Miles
Some Kind of Love Story is thick with noir-like moodiness. Director Michael Arabian sharply tends to that aspect of Arthur Miller's hour-and-fifteen-minute script. A smoke-filled room, a pork-pie hat, and a tawdry romance between Tom, a private-eye, and Angela, a crazed but beautiful babe with a history, becomes part of the mystery in this tale of life and death in big-city Boston. And it's all done to a soundtrack of ennui-inducing jazz music. Toss in a murder case that's moving more slowly than the corpse itself--this particular toe-tag hanger has occupied a file in Tom's mind since 1957 (it's now 1962)--and you have this sweet-tart of a Miller treat.
It's sweet because it allows us to look back and remember that period in time when America switched presidencies, from the grandfatherly comfort personified by General Eisenhower to the youthful optimism embodied in JFK. On TV we watched The Dick Van Dyke Show and Playhouse 90. But the small-screen also proved to be a titillation and a provocateur, making us slightly uneasy with weekly programs such as One Step Beyond and The Twilight Zone. Meanwhile, we were living on the brink of nuclear attack. Further, we were beginning to probe outer space. It was a "New Frontier" in, oh, so many ways.
Miller's dramatic gift was that he crafted characters that seem as if they are holograms of the era from which they were conceived. Death of a Salesman''s Willie Loman is the tragic Everyman of modern capitalism. All My Sons placed the benign villainy of protagonist Joe Keller smack-dab in the economic boon that World War Two provided for the nation. And notice Miller's choice of names: Willie is the low man; while in Sons we wonder, shouldn't it be Joe Killer?
Which brings us to the tart part of Some Kind of Love Story. Though its running-time is short, the play still feels too long. Unlike the previously mentioned Miller plays, the story here eventually becomes so convoluted that all that's left is mood, sensation, and--oh, did we mention?--acting that's up-close, personal, and simply extraordinary.
Jack Kehler lends to Tom a complexity that makes his conflict seem ennobling. Thanks to Miller's prowess as a wordsmith and Kehler's performance artistry, a crusty, Irish-Catholic ex-cop comes to life as if he were a manon the street brought in from outside, while Beege Barkette plays Angela as if she were made and stored for the role. Barkette's sultry magnetism and physical vitality stun us into dazed attention.
The plot-points of Miller's play may not add up. Nevertheless, the staging as a whole somehow appears greater than its desultory narrative. Kudos to John Iacovelli, scenic design; Traci McWain, costumes; Frank McKown, lighting; and Bob Blackburn, sound design. We'll leave it to readers and patrons to contemplate the symbolism Miller intended in his assignations of the character names, Tom and Angela.
Some Kind of Love Story continues in its west coast premiere at The Hayworth Theater in Los Angeles, through August 31. Show times are at and 8 p.m. on Fridays, 2 p.m. and 8 p.m. on Saturdays. There's also a 7 p.m. performance on Sundays. For reservations, dial (3230 960 - 4442. For more information, visit www.thehayworth.com.
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