"Foote and South Unease"
As a longtime admirer of the prolific playwright, Horton Foote, who died in 2009 just before his 93rd birthday, I looked forward to adding
The Young Man from Atlanta to the list of other Foote plays I’d seen, read,
and appreciated. I’d missed its New York premiere at the then Off-Off-Broadway
Signature Theatre, in 1995, when it won the Pulitzer. (It received a
short-lived Broadway run in 1997.)
That prize, some have suggested, recognized
not just the play but Foote’s extensive output, including three other Foote
plays produced by the Signature that 1994-1995 season, Talking Pictures,
Night Seasons, and Laura Dennis.
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| Rear: Dan Bittner, Devon Abner, Harriett D. Foy, Stephen Payne; front: Aidan Quinn, Kristine Nielsen, Pat Bowie. All photos: Monique Carboni. |
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| Aidan Quinn. |
The Signature, now one of New York’s prime Off-Broadway institutions,
permanently ensconced at the impressive Pershing Square Signature Theatre, is
again responsible for The Young Man from Atlanta, but it’s hard to see from
this production—directed by Foote specialist Michael Wilson (The Trip to Bountiful)—aside from its
author’s reputation, what might have inspired its receipt of a Pulitzer Prize. Enjoyable
as some of it is, the writing is unmistakably old-fashioned, melodramatic, even,
dependent on lengthy, over-obvious exposition, and burdened by an unsatisfying,
almost perfunctory resolution.
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| Aidan Quinn, Dan Bittner. |
And while it has a cast of notable actors, the production often
suffers from overacting, as well as a scene design that serves more to confuse
than to illuminate the topography of the dramatic locale.
The Young Man from Atlanta, named for a character who
never actually appears, reminds us that, for all the glowing accounts we have
of America’s grand, postwar economic boom, cracks in the system were forming,
even for those who had floated successful careers on the rising tide of
American capitalism. Houston, on the cusp of the boom, rapidly confirmed its
position as the largest city in the American south, a sub-theme of the play,
which posits Atlanta—which never came close—as its potential rival.
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| Kristine Nielsen. |
Profiting from his role as an executive at a Houston wholesale
produce company is the gregarious Will Kidder (Aidan Quinn), 61 (the original
script says 64), who has just bought a $200,000 home, as well as an expensive
new car for his loving, although recently prayer-obsessed, wife, Lily Dale
(Kristine Nielsen), 58 (61 in the original script), who abandoned her talented musical
talents when Bill died. Will and Lily Dale recently suffered the tragic loss of
their son, Bill, the circumstances of whose death by drowning point to suicide.
But not long into the first scene, in Will’s office, his
boss, Ted Cleveland, Jr. (Devon Abner), citing business losses, has no
alternative but to fire Will, who helped build the company with Ted’s father, and
to hire as his much younger replacement, Tom Jackson (Dan Bittner). Both Tom
and Ted are shown as humane, not rapacious, characters, but the bitter Will is
determined to strike back by starting his own, rival company. First, however,
he will need to raise the money for a big loan.
His initial optimism is dashed when he discovers that Lily Dale,
to whom he annually gave sizable Christmas gifts of money, has doled out substantial
amounts to Randy, a sweet young man from Atlanta. Randy, their son Bill’s
roommate and loving friend at an Atlanta boarding house, has managed to earn
Lily Dale’s considerable pity. (Hints suggesting Randy’s gayness, like his
excessive weepiness, sprinkle the dialogue.) Will, though, has explicitly forbidden
Lily Dale from being in contact with Randy. The family’s new economic
constraints also ensnare the finances of Lily’s 78-year-old stepfather, Pete
Davenport (Stephen Payne), an accommodating soul who’s been staying with the
Kidders, on their dime.
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| Kristine Nielsen, Stephen Payne. |
Will, crushed by the pressure of contending with the death
of his 37-year-old son, the possibility of Lily Dale’s having been conned by Randy,
and the difficulty of raising funds for his new business, is too much for him,
and he suffers a heart attack that makes him housebound as he slowly recovers. In
consequence, the play works out Will’s business problems, Lily Dale’s emotional
ones, and the issue of Randy’s potentially fraudulent connivances, which Lily
Dale is loath to accept because his words (whose relative truth or falsity
remains ambiguous) offer succor in her time of need.
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| Kristine Nielsen, Harriett D. Foy. |
It also introduces a silly, but interesting conspiracy theory
given credence by the gullible Lily Dale about Eleanor Roosevelt supporting a
so-called Disappointment Club in which black maids (there’s one in the play, well-played
by Harriet D. Foy) conspired to disappoint white employers.
Regardless of the family tensions and misery that erupt from
the confluence of Bill’s death, Will’s firing and resulting need for funding, Lily
Dale’s disbursal of her savings, and yet another loss of money of which we
learn, the play fails to coalesce convincingly. The secondary roles are all decently
played, including Jon Orsini as Carson, Pete’s grandnephew, who once roomed
with Randy. There’s also Etta Dorris, played effectively by Pat Bowie, an
elderly black woman who once worked for the Kidders; the woman’s presence, though,
seems decidedly extraneous.
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| Pat Bowie, Kristine Nielsen. |
As Will, who suggests a Willy Loman-like aura of both
brashness and defeat, the usually excellent Aidan Quinn (TV’s “Elementary”) is uneven,
ranging from superficially anguished to artificially blustery, shouting far too
often. Kristine Nielsen (Gary:
A Sequel to Titus Andronicus), one of our top comic actresses, has
fewer convincing moments, being unable to meld her familiar flibbertigibbet mannerisms
with a realistic portrait of Lily Dale that goes beyond making her a perpetual
airhead. And Stephen Payne’s (Straight White Men) Pete is simply
colorless.
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| Kristine Nielsen. |
Van Broughton Ramsey provides suitable period costumes, and David
Lander lights the stage effectively enough, but Jeff Cowie’s set (apart from
Will’s office, indicated merely by a desk and chair) provides an architecturally
odd impression of the Kidders’ new home. It’s placed against neutral black
curtains at either side, with a substantial window in the upstage wall, beneath
which runs a slightly raised platform, with doors up several steps at either
side.
Characters enter and leave via the sides, as well as through
the doors, even going out one door and entering through the other despite being
separated by an exterior yard seen through the window. At one point we even see
two characters walking across the yard as they go from one room to another. Whatever
the explanation for this arrangement, it’s definitely distracting.
Given the Signature’s devotion to Horton Foote, one of the iconic
American playwrights whose work is embraced by this theatre, it’s disappointing
to see a less-than-superior production of his sole Pulitzer-winning work.
Pershing Square Signature Center/Irene
Diamond Theatre
480 W. 42nd St., NYC
Through December 15
