The Winterling

Critiqued by Holly Bartges

Even for the destitute desolate, there are choices. Some are made, some are hoped for. Some are dreamed about, some talked about, some made, and some never carried through. Come to think about it, every human being within the universe has choices whether they live in the United States, Africa, South America, Afghanistan, or Russia. With choices readily available, some insist, they have no choices. Everything is cut and dried. Strange, but the cut and dried attitude is nothing but a choice. For the desolate destitute, choices can seem far out of reach, hampered by a fading glimmer of hope.

From left: Warren Sherrill, Jarrad Holbrook and Brandon Kruhm in Paragon's The Winterling. Photo credit: E. Tyler Photography.

Jez Butterworth's 1996 play The Winterling currently playing at the Crossroads Theatre under the auspices of Paragon Theatre examines choices under a microscopic compelling projection of five characters clinging onto life with barely a thread of hope. Hope appears in a variety of shapes and forms. In reality, a thread of hope is all anyone needs even if it is cloaked in a cage, but a few days old, in a an abandoned farm house during the deadness of a very cold winter.

The abandoned farmhouse sits in the middle of the wilds of Dartmoor, England. Falling apart with gapping holes punctuating the walls and ceiling, allowing trees and bushes to peak inside, wind wails through unannounced. Jets scream across the sky so low you expect one to flash through one of the yawning holes.

The Winterling demands sharp attention with eyes that not only see but also hear; with ears that not only hear, but also see. Directed by Taylor Gonda and Holly Ann Peterson, The Winterling captures the attention and imagination with a magnificent cast. For actors to stand absolutely still for several seconds at a time staring at each other, saying nothing, the cast has to be exquisite to command attentive involvement. Otherwise, it might be all too tempting to turn to the person sitting next to you to chat until somebody does something of interest. Not this time. Even though different characters at different times stand and stare, waiting, these people draw you in to their world. You can't help but wonder what they are thinking, what they are feeling, and what they want, not just what they say they want, but what they really want.

West calls his dogs for breakfast. They don't come. Folding into himself he stands. His calling turns into desperate yelling. They still don't come. He stands engulfed in lost confusion. He draws you in, holding the breath in case breathing causes one to miss something.

Jarrad Holbrook turns himself over to West completely. A year ago he left London on the run. No job. No money. He found an abandoned house, and plunked himself down. Now he waits for friends to arrive. They will. He called Wally and Jerry to help him. He waits for them and he waits for his dogs.

In his world of waiting, Draycott who clams the house is his, arrives. Close to madness, Draycott runs his mouth constantly jumping from one unrelated subject to another. In their desolate world, Draycott warms the air with humor, partially intentional, partially because his logical mind, if he ever had any, jumps from one thought to another without connection. Leroy Leonard as Draycott is stunningly compelling in his run of the mouth symphony as West is in his stilled choreographical "haltedness".

It may be Draycott’s house, but tempers rise as West kicks him out. Yes, yes Draycott knows West expects company. Tomorrow he will cook.

An empty house, Wally and Patsy enter bickering, whining and complaining. Wally's car, a two seater got stuck at the bottom of the hill, and they had to walk up the dark hill through snow and mud without a light. Patsy, the younger, is anything but happy. He doesn't know why he had to come. Wally won't tell him, and Patsy won't leave it alone even though Wally demands he stop asking questions. When West returns he stands and stares. They all stand and stare, and you can almost see the wheels racing around in their heads. Where's Jerry? And who's Patsy?

Warren Sherrill lends himself to Wally with total compliance. It's difficult to keep your eyes off him. The competition with the smart alec, devil-may-care Patsy, wondrously played by Brandon Krulim with his crooked smile, Wally thoroughly enjoys the needling.

Shock weaves through the farmhouse when West learns Jerry is dead. The three: West, Jerry, and Wally, London's two-bit gangsters, brings a wry smile to West. They were like the Three Musketeers. In a pathetic, humorous response, Wally adds they were more like The Three Stooges.

In a lopsided revenge, Wally sends Patsy down to the car to get his forgotten cigarettes. On his way back he notices a girl in an upstairs window. Who's the girl?

Butterworth admired the work of playwright, Harold Pinter, and sought to emulate him with his classic freedom to play with time.

Act II moves back a year, when the dejected, broken West discovers the abandoned house, and Draymoor discovers West in a near catatonic state. With most of the jabbering done by Draymoor, there is an agreement. West can stay. When Lou arrives with a package, a case, and a cage, they stand and stare. Deliciously played by Suzanne Fayette, Lou hooked up with Draymoor, with dreams of going abroad. She talks about it; thinks about it, but for some reason can't bring herself to do anything about it. Why?

Act II moves back to the next morning of Act I. A map doesn't have to be drawn. You know intuitively, time has melted into the minds of the four desolate human beings. Act II provides answers to some of the provocative questions, raising others, keeping the imaginative attention glued to the mind gamed action. Desolate as they may be, decisions need to be made. As uncalculated as it appears, Wally demonstrates a method to his internal control. Hope living in a cage does have its affect, and choices still live in apparent "choiceless" worlds.

David Lafont's detailed set design makes you feel the cold world West: Draycott, Wally, Patsy, and Lou live in physically, mentally, and emotionally. Although the characters draw you in, Brynn Starr Coplan's costume design makes you want to not be too close.

Thoughtful, provocative, intriguing, The Winterling as presented by Paragon is a sure-fire-do-not-miss. The chuckles flow readily while the imagination sits compelled on the edge of the eyelids as the two bit gangsters play out their fantasies, hostilities, resentments, soured hopes and wayward dreams in cryptic stares and run of the mouth nervousness. The Winterling is a brilliant production.

The Winterling
By Jez Butterworth, directed by Taylor Gonda and Holly Ann Peterson