The Glider

Critiqued by Holly Bartges

The Miles family boathouse on Lake Michigan becomes the site for three sisters to unite after their mother’s funeral.

And Toto Too’s current production at the Denver Victorian Playhouse directed by Susan Lyles captures Katherine Snodgrass’ award winning play, The Glider.

From the beginning the plot becomes predictable. A sense of deja vu nibbles around the edges. With plays revolving around women, there is the sense we’ve singing the same song just a different verse, notably Steel Magnolias, and most recently The Vic’s Crimes of the Heart. Indubitably we’ll wander the terrain again and again.

When three sisters connect after their mother’s funeral, there’s going to be anger, resentment, and the forever embedded feel-sorry-for- me-you-never-cared-look-at-the- sacrifices-I-made attitudes.

In the Glider it’s all there. They’re going to fight, argue, tease, laugh, disapprove, blame, pity and somewhere along the way find a piece of common ground. It continues to amaze me on the stage and for “real” how some sisters, friends, families want to control the lives of everyone else. Individuals make individual decisions, but always when individual decisions are made, resentment turns into a full force gale containing a lot of hot wind.

No real surprises pop up in The Glider. Surprises are always expected. Secrets are clutched tightly until they explode at the wrong time and wrong place guaranteeing a dramatic tour de force.

What sets this production apart is the treatment Lyles gives it along with her stunning cast. On a delightful cluttered set in a boathouse with stuff all around: boat stuff, fishing stuff, catch all stuff. Playing in connection with the Vic’s superb production of Catch Me If You Can happening in a mountain cabin, the basic walls for the cabin fit nicely with the boathouse. It takes an hour and a half for the crew to change from one set to another. Darrin Smith’s concept of the boathouse with a kayak hanging from the rafters definitely adds to the atmosphere, Along with the sounds of waves from the lake, fish jumping, and other unidentifiable lake sounds designed by Smith, you can almost smell fish stuff, boat stuff, and wet swimming suit stuff wafting within the four walls.

The Glider became an experiment for Lyles And Toto Too to launch a weeknight theatre run Tuesday-Thursday. An experiment that definitely holds merit.

In the dark, Fran slinks into the boathouse, lantern in hand, carefully juggling an urn talking all the while. Rita Broderick charmingly brings the alcoholic National Geographic photographer to life with casual humor. The last time she returned home was for her father’s funeral five years prior. Now in the darkened solace of the boathouse, she babbles to her mother. She really isn’t as bad as everything thinks she is, she tries to proclaim as she “smirkenly” uncovers a bottle of vodka she hid five years ago. Sure her mother hated her for running off to see the world, claiming a golden opportunity many only dream of, she knows she’s the bad apple in everyone’s eyes.

In the midst of her rambling to her mother, feeling the warmth of the vodka sliding down her throat, the sound of her sister Essie calling for her sends Fran scurrying to hide the bottle and hide her mother’s urn.

Loaded down with a tray of glasses and pitcher of lemonade, Essie chides her for sitting in the dark. Rebecca Remaly takes on Essie’s essence with a sense of tenderness and caring. The mother of three children, always having to contend with an ex husband, the role of Essie is undoubtedly the less appealing of the three sisters. A chatterbox by nature, aching to want to feel in control of something, Fran becomes an obvious target. One minute content to have Fran there, reminiscing over carefree childhood days, the next biting at her heels for staying away, for being out of contact, for never writing or calling. Demonstrating a one upsmanship of tenderness for Fran, she reveals a bottle of vodka she brought just for her estranged sister. Of course, she resents Fran. Her children are her life and here she is in the company of a renowned world traveler, making assumptions, never bothering to find out if Fran missed being away from home.

Of course, the house will go to Chrissy, the youngest, who put her life on hold to return home to care for the ailing mother. Fran just knows this to be true. After all, it was Chrissy who saw to her every whim, cooked for her, fed her, bathed her, and waited on her hand and foot. Chrissy loves the house; Fran knows it to be true. Along with the smirks, the sharp words in retort to Essie, the confident truths she conjured up, Broderick shades Fran with soft grays around the edges providing insight that there’s more to Fran than what she verbally projects. Broderick shows it in Fran’s eyes, half-hidden contemplative expressions.

Likewise, Remaly gives Essie three-dimensional insight where it would be all too easy to play her as a paper doll cutout. Through the expertise of the three actors is where The Glider stands up and talks.

Fran and Essie know their little sister, Chrissy. They have her pegged as so many sisters think they have. Chrissy’s the natural caretaker who will hunker down in the family homestead with who? Whoops! Seems as though little Sis has become lovey dovey with someone rattling Essie’s cage.

a tray full of medicine bottles, Chrissy bursts into the boathouse. She’s been cleaning out the mother’s room, deciding the multitudes of medications need to be destroyed. Without thinking about the fish, her intent is to dump them into the lake. Amanda Van Nostrand slides wonderfully into Chrissy’s heart and soul. Who her sisters think she is and who she really is tumbles into the mix as Chrissy takes a stand in her own right. Secrets spill; teeth are bared with sharp growls. Huge bites are taken along with many nasty nips. A once-upon-a-time lake monster becomes a tease out of right field, and surprises explode in everyone face. The actors are astute enough to react honestly to the not so surprisingly surprises allowing the play to be palatable.

Broderick, Remaly, and Van Nostrand are the reasons to see this production, along with Lyles, and Smith. I applaud And Toto Too to champion women playwrights, but hopefully out there, somewhere there are women playwrights who champion women who can do more than gossip, resent sisters for making individual choices, and are able to rise above the pettiness of squabbles, guilt, and blame.

In spite of that, And Toto Too’s production merits experiencing because of the “who’s” involved.