Home

Critiqued by Holly Bartges

Poignantly charming and charmingly poignant is how Germinal Stage Denver approaches David Storey’s play, Home. The charmingly poignant play holds a surprise within its grasp.

Ed Baierlein as Jack and Terry Burnsed as Harry in Germinal Stage Denver's production of Home

Storey writes a story without a plot centering on some of the most delicious characters one would ever want to meet. You may not want to have lunch with them, much less invite them over for dinner, but you will definitely wrap yourself around their “deliciosity”.

“Kathleen, put your dress down.”

Low key, yet instantly compelling. Five characters, a long way from home, interact with each other although mostly interacting deep within themselves. Home doesn’t sport a play, as such. Home doesn’t need to. Rather, it provides opportunity to delve into the lives of five people within scenic minds to catch the nuances, the grimaces, the little habits, (”Harry stop using little!.”), and the big habits. Kathleen constantly rubs and pulls at her nose, plays with the hem of her dress. One of these times she is going to pull it completely over her head. Margaret cleans her glasses with a furious thrust. Jack lives in a world whose history he can change without defying his dignity. Now he has 7 brothers and sisters. Last week he had none. Jack maintains a high respectable sense of noble decorum. Harry in elegant British psyche feeds an irresistible urge to satisfy his OCD (Obsessive-compulsive disorder). The paper must be folded in a certain way, and placed on the table at a certain angle. Dressed impeccably, if you saw him on a park bench, you’d be struck by his sharp appearance. Clothes manipulated to perfection. Maybe that constant moving of his head is for effect, thinking, even hoping, someone may be taking his picture as he searches for the correct angle. Jack, fascinated with people passing by, recognizing some, unable to remember their names, glances at the newspaper, moves from his chair to the fence, and back again drifting in and out of long ago memories.

Swallowing vulnerabilities they are not even aware of, they reach out for connection, snatching them back to protect their own inside world. Even the dignified self-esteem breaks into uncontrollable tearful sobs for no apparent reason. Or is there?

Terry Burnsed, as Harry, disappears into one of the finest roles of his career, and he has a string of awesome moments on stage.

Gina Suzanna Wellens as Marjorie and Ed Baierlein as Jack in Germinal Stage Denver's production of Home

Ed Baierlein becomes engulfed with Jack, maintaining consistent idiosyncrasies. Facial muscles twitch, his mouth turns inside out, eyes look far out into the distant past, remembering when he was a boy. So real are the descriptions that you see what he sees, hear what he hears. Historical facts may change, but the specific gaze so striking, there is the temptation to turn around convinced the images conjured in his mind stand right behind you. The sorrowful, elongated face distorts Baierlein, providing Jack a source of constant curiosity. Baierlein moves aside allowing Jack his own space.

Mundane conversation flits from daily news, escapades during WWII, remembrances of jobs, family, and someone just waved. What’s his name?

When the two men decide to go for a brisk walk before lunch, two older women impatiently waiting quickly snatch their chairs. A patio, a table. Only two chairs.

Kathleen’s feet hurt. The straps on her shoes are too tight. Why did they take away her shoes with laces? Did they think she was going to hang herself? Rita Broderick engulfs herself in Kathleen’s loose loud-mouthed wanting-to –be- flirtatious-but-doesn’t-know-how-stance. What appears in her head comes out of her mouth. Spreading her legs, raising her dress, driving Margo’s imposed-moralistic-sensibilities–on- everyone-else crazy. What a hussie that Kathleen is. However, when Margo doesn’t know where Kathleen is, anxiety sweeps across her with cold shivers that have no beginning and no ending.

Suzanne Wellens’ Margaret, prim and proper, nosy, vindictive, jealous, doesn’t particularly like Kathleen, but she needs her. At one point when she doesn’t know where Kathleen is, she turns nervously frantic. With cold eyes, she pushes her companions to the edge. “What’s this with young boys?” she pierces trough Jack’s façade.

Burnsed, Baierlein, Broderick and Wellens bring Harry, Jack, Kathleen and Margaret to intense absorbing life that knock your socks off, washes them, folds them, and when appropriate, hands them back.

There’s one more, dim-witted Alfred played by Marc K. Moran in one of the most astonishing performances I have ever seen him give. He says little. He stares a great deal. He uses the chairs and the metal table to pump iron. The other four solve the chair problem, planning to bring two extras so all can sit. Alfred becomes obsessed over the fact the chairs don’t belong there. They belong where they belong, providing an honest humorous moment of musical chairs. Alfred stares heartedly at Kathleen who wants to know what he’s looking at. With a sharp stare in tact, he replies, “Nothing”. Moran’s eyes for Alfred pierce into nothingness. Does he honestly look at Kathleen, or does he seek a distant memory?

As the nonsensical conversation weaves its way from nothing to nowhere and back again it becomes clear this isn’t a park side reunion of old friends. Confined to a mental institution there are hints as to why they are there, but nothing gets spelled out. Because of the obscurity, one is left to allow how come’s, why’s, and wherefore’s tickle the imagination. The actors do such a magnificent job painting character portraits; you can’t help but ponder what they were like as children. What caused them to lose their balance? Are their memories real, or have they brushed over their oil painted histories with watercolors?

Storey, an award winning British playwright and novelist influenced by Samuel Beckett’s existential thrust with shades of Waiting For Godot, may have had a different reason for writing Home which found its way onto the boards at the Royal Court Theatre in 1970, followed by a successful Broadway run. Affected by the war, lost in the decline of the British Empire, there is a sense they wait, as Godot waits.

Directed and designed by Baierlein, the rhyme and reason for Home flies far beyond the time frame Storey writes. The characters themselves move Home away from any stringent historical moment that fed the playwrights desire to write. With intense character development, they live in a timeless period of lostness. What they were, where they were no longer exists. I will boldly go out on a limb to state that no other Colorado theatre could produce this production with the endearing, enchanting, compulsion to watch every eyebrow flicker, every twist of the mouth, listening to every nonsensical comment completely unaware no plot exists. Storey provides a masterfully written play, exercised under masterful direction with actors willing to jump in with all four hooves bringing disconnected lines into perfected sensibility. Some are funny, and are meant to be. Others are funny, and from our perspective aren’t meant to be at all. Some bring tears to the eyes as self-imposed, self-esteem cracks around the edges.

“For the last time, Kathleen, put down your dress”.

Sallie Diamond’s choice of costumes for the actors and the characters matches the intent perfectly. Harry and Jack in stunning British dress, provides integrity, dignity, snobbishness where integrity, dignity, and snobbishness do not live. Kathleen looks as though she got out of bed, didn’t turn on a light and grabbed the first piece of clothing she finds in her closet. Go together? She doesn’t care. Spreading legs apart, skirt in her lap, appearance to Kathleen is anything but a high priority. The prim and proper Margaret dresses to reflect her primly properness with a hint of inside jealousy not wanting to be so straight-laced, wanting a sense of freedom unable to know how to capture it. Alfred confined to military garb and table and chair calisthenics tells a tormented story all to itself.

When the light begins to fade on two lonely men lost in their horrific world of confused mental instability, reaching out for connection, as all of us do, the mouth slowly falls open, and no one wants to speak. Reverberations linger from Margo’s poignant off-the-cuff comment, “One thing about this place, it’s nothing like home.”

This is powerful material, executed by powerful actors. Unfortunately, only one more week exists on the run for Home. Just don’t miss it. Whatever the price, whatever the cost, It’s what theatre is all about, and you won’t find anything finer anywhere.

Home
By David Storey; Designed & Directed by Ed Baierlein