F. J. Hartland

First, hats off to Throughline Theatre Company on two counts.

Number One: They have founded (and kept afloat) a theatre company in difficult economic times to launch a second season.

Number Two:  They strive to bring art (particular classics) to the South Hills of Pittsburgh—and were recently recognized for this accomplishment by having a day named in their honor.

Now I wish I could say I loved their current production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. 

But I can’t.

The trouble starts early.

Scenic designer Ryan Tierno has provided a set (and ground plan) that has saddled the director (also Ryan Tierno) with uncertain failure.

It’s a box set…that could almost work…if it weren’t for that gaping space on the back wall.  It looks like the two halves of the set don’t meet…or that they ran out of money or walls or something.  The overall impression is that wealthy Big Daddy’s fancy plantation home (which sits on more than 20,000 acres) is like a doll house.  The rooms have no back walls.

If you’re going to do a box set, do a box set. If you just want to use pieces to indicate the room, that’s fine, too.  But don’t mix it up.  It’s confusing and looks foolish.

It also causes some unintentional comedy.  Brick (Big Daddy’s son) questions Maggie the Cat when she locks the door of their bedroom in an attempt to seduce him.  “Why are you locking the door?” he inquires.  I wanted to answer, “Why bother when there’s no back wall and anyone could walk in on you both in bed!”

A lack of places to sit creates awkward stage pictures and often leaves actors standing around with nothing to do!  My heart went out to poor Maggie the Cat (played by Maggie Mayer) who is left standing for most of her famous opening monologue.  Overall, blocking is stiff and unbelievable for most of the production.

And what little furniture that exists is so oddly placed.  The bed (which should be center…this is a play teeming with sex, after all) is off to one side…blocking the only real door on the set. The sofa is angled against a flat on stage right making it impossible to see anyone sitting on the upstage end if two were sitting there.

I am glad there were levels…but again, they are so strangely placed that the bench meant for the bottom of the bed is actually downstage and on a lower level than the bed).

The lighting features hot spots and dark spots.  Sometimes actors are lit only from the neck down…sometimes not at all.  Poor Big Daddy had some amazing moments—but was standing in a dark spot at center stage when they happened.

Tierno did assemble some fine actors:  Maggie Mayer, Joey Yow, Mary Chess Randolph, Jack Goodstein and Bill Crean.  Of those, Yow and Crean fair the best.  Joey Yow as Brick has a lost-little-boy look that is perfect for troubled, alcoholic Brick.  Crean has some fine moments as patriarch Big Daddy.  But Tierno could have done so much more to find levels in Tennessee Williams’ nuanced characters.  This is a very difficult script, and the director has barely scratched the surface of these complex lives.  For example, Gooper and Mae (played by Eric James Davidson and Rachel Enck) come across like villains in an old Warner Brothers cartoon.

The play is set in the 1950’s, but looking at April May Ohms’ costumes, the play might be in the 50’s…or the 70’s…or now.  The children all look like an ad from this week’s JC Penney’s summer sale catalogue.  And again, poor Maggie Meyer is forced to perform in an ill-fitting slip.  It should cling to her body, giving her the sensuality of Maggie the Cat.  Also, wouldn’t a garter belt and hose been appropriate for this time period?

The devil is in the details.  Are Brick and Big Daddy really drinking out of plastic cups like you’d find in a room at Motel 6?  The bed is obviously just a platform with no padding because each time Big Daddy pushed Brick on the bed, there is a resounding clunk!  No wonder Brick prefers sleeping on the sofa!  And are we really to believe that anyone but a four-year-old could stretch out on that tiny wicker loveseat?  And when Brick references “the liquor cabinet,” isn’t he really referring to bottles placed on top of the television set?  If you’re going to do that, there needs to be irony or sarcaism in the remark to keep from looking foolish.

I do salute Throughline for tackling this classic (especially on Williams’ 100^th birthday), but also honor him by doing your homework.The production in is the un-air conditioned Seton Center Auditorium, so if this balmy weather doesn’t soon break, I suggest bringing a fan.  (Throughline graciously supplied bottled water to the audience on opening night).

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof continues through June 18.