Entertainment :: Theatre
Crossing Brooklyn by Rob Lester
EDGE ContributorMonday Oct 29, 2007 I’m here to twist your arm. A play about the aftermath of the horrific day of September 11th, 2001 might sound like something too painful and depressing to handle. Understandable. Sometimes it’s wrenching and if the playbill had been printed on Kleenex, it would have come in handy. But is Crossing Brooklyn a masochistic experience? Not at all. It’s more of a character study and catharsis, and the emotions and situations are surprisingly universal even though the story is specific to characters’ recovery (or lack thereof) from the trauma. There’s nothing graphic and the actual attacks or attempted escapes are not recreated or discussed in detail; we don’t see any of the victims portrayed. Be prepared to deal with some pain and your own memories, but let me encourage you strongly to go and feel and deal ... and maybe heal. The challenging musical play is blessed with a cast that handles in with grace and real humanity and acting skill, also evident in the singing-some wonderful voices here.
My motivation to go was that Jenny Giering is the composer. She’s a writer I’ve admired for a while and I assumed she’d be the kind of composer who could bring intelligence and restraint and truth to express the deep emotions. I was not wrong and I was not disappointed. She finds the right type of music to let characters sing, without resorting to melodrama or mush. The music can be tense or tender or tentative as the moment requires. She not only finds the right colors but paints them without just using broad strokes. This is her first collaboration with Laura Harrington, who has written both book and lyrics with the same kind of balance of a waterfall of feelings and articulate word choices. There’s no sense of trying to be "clever" or dumping pseudo-profound phrases or homilies at our feet. The characters speak from the heart and often plainly. The sung words feel like natural extensions of the dialogue whether a character is questioning things ("If I could escape, were would I go?/ If I could escape, who would I be? Who would I be if I could be free?") or opening up ("If I’m honest with you/ I can’t remember his face/...I’ve been trying so hard to hold onto him/ If I could only make time stand still/ But he’s slipping away from me/ Day by day").
A directorial choice has been made so that songs flow in and out of dialogue and scenes progress without having a pause for applause. This encourages the audience to be pulled into the story rather than express appreciation for the craft, and clapping would break the spell. At the end of the intermissionless play, the applause was explosive and prolonged.
Jack Cummings III (artistic director of the Transport Group presenting this worthy project) has directed with care and balance. The main characters are a couple in crisis and we are allowed to have sympathy for both, even though the woman is the more immediately obvious choice, being the one still so traumatized and needy. But the man, serving as ever-understanding and dedicated coach, loving partner, and breadwinner, though rather saintly, is human and struggling to deal with her slow progress. His patience is tested, and his loneliness within couplehood is palpable-and might lead him to the arms of someone else.
Months after 9/11, the woman is still suffering severely from fear and post-traumatic stress. She barely functions, not working, and can only leave the house or do anything with great effort and support. Her routine is just to go to Prospect Park near their Brooklyn home and a neighboring café, never leaving a four-block radius. Meanwhile, he continues working in the field that had been her occupation, too: teaching school. She is haunted by the memory of leading her students from the neighborhood when the Towers fell and we hear voices that play in her mind in a memory loop that she can’t stop. The ensemble is used to create the echoed voices ("Where’s my mom?") and to articulate inner thoughts, in a hazy, dreamlike way. Greek Chorus style, they sing, "This is the girl you adore/ The girl is drowning for sure/ Do you feel like you’re tied to the tracks?" They are used theatrically in various ways, such as each bringing an item put in a backpack of emergency supplies rather than have the character simply pack it on her own. They often parade across the stage, sometimes in circles, as if hypnotized or being the needed community of help and shared witness. The not so hidden agenda is that somebody has to move the multi-purpose furniture. Without blackouts (that would allow for applause and a sudden stop) or seats appearing on wheels or turntables, there is no other way.
The songs, script, and acting are all so strong and focused that some points and effects come across economically and thus later feel a little redundant. This is a danger. Also, how do you deal with a woman frozen in her tracks and routine without an overwhelming sense of so much feeling static? But we never lose empathy for actress Jenny Fellner’s creation of this woman, because she plays her with such feeling without making her a pathetic hopeless case. Her desire to survive and her panic and the person she used to be are all written in her eyes (and in the very human script!). We root for her from the start and would willingly carry her on our backs over the Brooklyn Bridge.
Some of that fondness is an extension of what’s obviously felt by her partner in life and recovery as demonstrated by the fine, three-dimensional performance of Bryce Ryness. Singing strongly but with longing, his character’s challenges in holding on is just as compelling. His warmth also comes through in the relationship with a precocious pre-teen student whose father died in the Towers. In a remarkable performance by J. Bradley Bowers, we see the tough exterior and fragile interior of this boy. As an actor, he holds the stage well and is also very funny spouting psychological terminology like "emotional triggers" which his character knows plenty about, as he discusses his "team" therapy. ("My mother had a hard time finding a therapist who could stay ahead of me.") Late in the game, he sings his only solo (If I’m Honest With You, excerpted above) and his pure voice is stunningly beautiful, even more poignant in that his character is showing all the vulnerability his defensiveness and smarts had masked. Also one of the score’s best songs, it’s a stunning moment, beautifully realized by this young and impressive talent.
Members of the ensemble step in as other characters: Blythe Gruda in the ensemble (and potential "other woman") has a glorious singing voice and it soars; wisely, she has been given many opportunities to shine within the many group numbers. Susan Lehman and Kate Weiman, playing two bird-watching enthusiasts in the park, glow with unspoken maternal warmth and implied mature perspective. Ken Triwush and Jason F. Williams as the thoughtful café men are likeable and real, personifying the concept that we are all one extended human family, helping each other (or could be). Clayton Dean Smith is the disturbed man in the park who seems threatening (just what our fragile heroine doesn’t need!) but who ultimately has an oddly helpful role to play. His character as written could use some development earlier, perhaps.
At the piano is the talented Brian J. Nash, also a favorite in cabaret circles, a welcome presence leading the five-piece band. Mary-Mitchell Campbell provided the orchestrations, generally effective and sometimes exquisite (especially with the cello parts played so well by Summer Boggess) - but I was often bothered by some of the insistent patterns to create tension. Repeated phrases or single piano notes played underneath things are too obvious, relentless and become annoying if you’re one to consciously pay attention to the accompaniment’s architecture. As in other aspects of the presentation, it’s overkill. We get it. The feelings come through loud and clear because they’re so well written (trust the material) and don’t need to be underlined and restated, especially with this level of talent in the singing actors.
Overall, Crossing Brooklyn is a beautiful piece, beautifully executed. It does not make an audience feel manipulated and it’s an exploration rather than a political statement or soap opera. It rings true and reaches deeply into the human soul where it could have, in lesser hands, been pat or flat. Go.
At the Connelly Theatre 220 East 4th Street. Presented by The Transport Group Thru Nov. 18. (evening shows: 8 pm on Mon, Weds, Thurs, Fri, Sat.--(except Sat, 10/27 it will be at 7 pm) Matinees: Sat at 2 pm, Sun at 3 pm. Tickets: $38 at company website, www.transportgroup.org or www.theatermania.com or call 212-352-3101.
Rob Lester is a freelance writer living in lovely N.Y.C., also contributing weekly to www.TalkinBroadway.com (Sound Advice, etc.), Cabaret Scenes Magazine, www.CabaretExchange.com and is a judge for the Nightlife Awards and next year’s Bistro Awards. He welcomes feedback at onthejobrob@gmail.com
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