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A CurtainUp Los Angeles Review
Lady
Kenny (Matt Kirkwood) is the unsophisticated, unpretentious one, who spends his days watching movies that are more interesting than his life. Dyson (Shawn Michael Patrick) is the political idealist, a history professor who ran the campaign that got their friend Graham (Mark Doerr) elected to Congress. The three are bound together by a common history, shared memories, nostalgia, and genuine affection. Now, however, Kenny and Dyson are waiting in a hunting preserve in downstate llinois for Graham to show up. Like Samuel Beckett's Estragon and Vladimir, the placid, optimistic protagonists waiting for Godot. Except that, unlike them, Kenny and Dyson are angry and impatient as they wait. Playwright Craig Wright is less inscrutable than Beckett. He writes clear, realistic dialogue—and characters whose pain is palpable. In Lady the pain is the pain of loss. . .loss of innocence and ideals. Loss of a wife. Loss of a son. Loss of a friendship. As Kenny notes, "We were lost together. Now we're lost apart." Graham, called "Grammy" by his constituents, has returned home from Washington to deliver a speech that reveals, to the liberal Dyson's horror, that he has become a neo-con. Worse still, his flag-waving has prompted Dyson's 18-year old son, Duncan, in a burst of patriotism, to run off and join the Marines. Far from agreeing to try to talk Duncan out of enlisting, Graham praises the young man's commitment. This is a play where anguished and frustrated men cry. Kenny, who is literally thrown out of the others' verbal exchange cries for Lady, whose barking is heard in the distance from time to time. Dyson cries, too, for the loss of his son. The one who remains virtually untouched is Graham, dry-eyed and still firmly convinced of his own righteousness. All three of these actors are as good as they can possibly be, and it is a distinct pleasure to watch each of them. Director Scott Alan Smith moves them around the nearly barren stage with a natural pacing and sharp attention to each change of mood. Set designer Stephen Gifford has scattered autumn leaves around the stage and the large wooden-planked hillock that serves as a lookout point and keeps the action from being too static. But his real triumph (along with scenic artist Michelle Carrier) is the various-sized dogtag-shaped panels that serve as the background. Sponge-painted a burnt orange, the color of an early sunrise, they contain smoky, impressionistic hints of trees and the beginnings of blue sky. Surrealistic and very effective. As well as slightly claustrophobic, as woods sometimes are. Mary Jane Miller's costumes cleverly pinpoint the personality of each hunter. Kenny is slightly thrown-together, wearing military camouflage and a jumble of layering. Dyson is the casual hunter in jeans and flannel shirt. And the meticulous Graham is GQ all the way, his khakis topped with a neon-orange vest and cap. David B. Marling's sound design is also well-done, with muffled shots and intermittent barking and other wood sounds. Craig Wright, whose plays met with great success in their L.A. productions, has outdone himself with this simple but passionate drama. It may be a bit polemical at times, but then, at this point, he is preaching to the choir.
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