Reviewed by Steve Callahan
The Muddy Waters Theatre is blessing us with a season of Edward Albee. Dedicating a whole season to a single playwright is a worthwhile concept; for some years the old City Players did that. In February Muddy Waters gave us a fine production of Albee's Three Tall Women. Now they have opened a very strong production of The Lady from Dubuque.
Albee flashed onto the scene in the late fifties with several short plays that became wildly popular on college campuses. Then, of course, in 1963 came his magnum opus, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Alas, he has never subsequently attained the sheer masterful power of that piece; but (hooray!) he has continued to write plays for forty-six more years.
The Lady from Dubuque appeared on Broadway in 1980. It closed after twelve performances. The play is set in the suburban home of Sam and Jo. Two other couples have come for an evening of drinks and games. But Jo, the wife, is dying painfully, and she soon turns the games into that familiar Albee game-"Get the Guests". Now, dying and pain will put anybody in a bad mood, but Jo's gratuitous nastiness to her friends seemed, when I re-read the play, so out of proportion as to be totally unbelievable. I thought Albee was just indulging in gimmickry stolen from Virginia Woolf - but without the deep foundations for it that we find in that play.
But that was before I saw Sarah Cannon's simply stunning performance as Jo. Ms. Cannon seems tinier than ever-as if much of her physical substance has been eaten away by this approaching nemesis. But such a vibrant spirit remains! I've rarely seen an actress so fill every moment with such imaginative detail. The smiles, the laughter, the sharp wit with which she adorns Jo's agony are wonderfully fresh and effective and true-and they earn Jo all our sympathy and admiration. Ms. Cannon gives us a Jo who builds a defensive burrow out of sharp barbs and hostility.
Joshua Thomas is strong and believable as Sam.
In the middle of the play two mysterious figures arrive: a strange "lady from Dubuque" and her black colleague, Oscar. The Lady claims to be Jo's mother, but Sam insists this is not true. After Sam is forced to admit that he did indeed notice that Oscar is black, Oscar occasionally indulges in outrageous and mocking Sambo-isms. Oscar and the Lady labor under a burden of obvious and intentional symbolism-and I won't give away much in saying that they symbolize Death. So the famous enigma in this play is not about who Oscar and the Lady are, but about how we relate to Death. In the end, as Jo is tenderly embraced by Death, the Lady could almost be singing the lyric of Schubert's "Death and the Maiden":
Give me your hand, you fair and tender form!
I am a friend; I do not come to punish.
Be of good cheer! I am not savage.
You shall sleep gently in my arms."
Husband and wife Robert Mitchell and Kirsten Wylder give fine performances as Oscar and the Lady. Ms. Wilder, portraying Death's comforting aspect, is the most tender of mothers. Mitchell is powerful and suave as Death's dark and fearsome irresistible force. Alas, in a truly egregious directorial error, Mitchell, in a dark, conservative power-suit, performs barefoot. Albee would shudder! This is sophomoric gimmickry and it distracts utterly from Oscar's necessary air of dignified authority.
Strong performances are given by others in the cast: G. P. Hunsaker, Patty Ulrich, Todd Pieper, and especially Emily Baker as the bimbo who turns out to have more common sense and decency than her better-educated friends.
But it is Sarah Cannon who makes this an evening of theatre that you really must not miss.