Back in the Theater-mobile, Batman!--and back again to Arena
Stage in DC. This time the draw was the Actor. Kathleen Turner who is starring
in Joan Didion's "The Year of Magical Thinking"; a one-woman show of
about 2 hours in length. I have shared with you about the particulars of the
Arena Stage here in DC, one dynamic complex with three theaters inside. Today
was my first production in the Arlene and Robert Kogod Theater. (The Kogods are
local philanthropists who also have a theater named after them at the
University of Maryland Clarice Smith Theater Complex, and the Signature Stage
Theater Complex in Virginia.) The Kogod theater is the more intimate of the
three. It's circular with walls lined in warped planks for a most captivating
effect. It's called the cradle, but I honestly could not get out of my mind the
image of a bird's nest--either is a pro pos given the space's dedication to
producing new works and nurturing young playwrights.
When I entered and saw my seat relative to the stage, the
first thing that I thought was "Holy Fucking Shit!"--what a perfect
seat! Second row, center and looking straight on at the central focal point.
This would prove nearly miraculous about 45 minutes into the play when Ms.
Turner sat down on the middle chair and began delivering a set of lines about
12 in all that were the first dip in the play's flow into the pond of
profundity. By her second line, she looked straight at me, and I met her gaze
full frontal. I can tell you this with some certainty, because for some reason
the seven seats in the row directly behind me were unattended--and any attempt
to look at the row above that would have been obvious. With one brief glance
beyond, she spoke the entire set as if we were the only two people in the room,
and I want to think that she saw the glistening unborn tears welling up in my
eyes and took a modicum of inspiration from them.
As to Turner, she is a force of nature. Her strength of
character counts for much. Her performance was at times compelling, and at
other moments adequate. Out of respect for her immense talent I won't knit
pick, and out of respect I stood at the end with my fellow theater goers and
extended my hands in unconditional applause. She responded with tremendous
grace and an uncanny softness that belied the fact that she knew this was not
her best performance.
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