This was my first encounter with "live" theater in Berkeley and it defied expectation.
All I previously knew was the Big Apple's Broadway and Off Broadway scene by way of birthday and holiday-bestowed tickets. My aunt Leepee was our family benefactor, churning out Twofers (discounted seats) as her thespian profile loomed. (She had aspired to be an actress, enrolling in the 1940s Group Theater, interacting with John Garfield and enviable playwrights of the era) but ultimately she settled into a life working for directors Cheryl Crawford and Irene Selznick, having preserved her original passion.
Leepee's grand-daughter, and my second cousin, Amy Herzog, became still another direct "connection" to my foray to Aurora since her play, After the Revolution will be featured during the month of August in an intimate space that grows in stature once inhabited by actors who breathe life into worthy scripts.
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Sitting almost in the laps of actors, I was riveted to Neil Labute's powerful words that were delivered by well-partnered actors, Aldo Billinsglea, Gabriel Marin and Carrie Paff.
Though these three performers are not connected to the Berkeley Rep, Aurora's Addison Street neighbor, they have the right chemistry, as if seasons of collective interplay and common direction are bundled into their resumes.
The Actors
Gabriel Marin, the narrator and introductory character, meets his dual role head on in a stage setting that rekindles"Our Town." (The audience is both confidante and stage center eavesdropper. The latter is made feasible by the small, but pleasingly cozy space)
Designated as the "Man" in Labute's play, Marin has the lion's share of responsibility in spinning a story through HIS eyes, which he makes sure to clarify from time to time in a humorous vein. Identified as a "writer," perhaps in his quest to create a new career for himself in the ashes of defeat, he fits the profile of a ne'er do well by his comportment and lack of confidence.
We learn more about him as he jumps into the fray on stage.
The plot is launched by the Man's serendipitous meet-up with a curvaceous, blonde-haired cheerleader from high school who lives in the Midwestern town to which he has returned after a failed marriage and foul-up as a lawyer.
Nervously, we watch him rekindle an old connection on shaky footing--and we feel a heart-warming human kinship as he strains and struggles.
As members of the audience, we identify with his awkward body language and inadvertent verbal bombshells. (Playwright, LaBute confessed in an interview, that he "loves to push and probe..to create a set of fictional characters who can stand in for me or you, or whomever and put them to the test...What little victories and failures make up who we are.")
In fact, LaBute has succeeded theatrically with a compelling script interwoven with characters extracted from our daily lives. The human component is definitely what steals the show.
As the drama unfolds, the "Man," about 30, becomes entwined in the life of the ex-high school cheerleader and heartthrob, while she uncomfortably belabors her uneasy reunion with him. In the exchange, she discloses her marriage to Cody Phipps, the physically imposing star athlete of yesteryear.
The revelation is a shock to the narrator, but we don't know exactly why, until Cody makes his entrance in the figure of a muscular black man. (He resembles James Earl Jones in "The Great White Hope.")
The racial dimension of the play can be viewed in powerful social/political terms, or just as a complication of unfolding relationships between THREE people who have their own unique family history and psychological baggage.
From my perspective, I didn't consider the interracial marriage as the driving force of Labute's script but others might feel differently.
Certainly racial stereotypes emerge in the (white) Man's bungling speech but they seem inadvertent and not tied to profound, ingrained racial prejudice. Still the culture clash sub-theme intensifies the action on stage since interracial partnering comes with its own set of societal taboos.
At one point, super-charged Cody, with his impressive physique, punches his wife out of frustration, while the narrator MAN shows TWO versions of what happened, since HE'S creating events that could be stretches of the imagination and/or his wish fulfillment. The audience, incidentally, is veiled in uncertainty about what is truth or fiction.
Just the same, we're intrigued how the MAN manages to move into a remodeled space above the married couple's garage. From there, he opens the windows wide to snag audible domestic acrimony. (It's more grist for a plot boiler)
Will he rescue his high school crush?
Naturally, the testosterone levels of the narrator mobilize him, and we're wondering where his biological urges will take him.
So having offered a titillating introduction, minus a few pivotal dramatic "secrets" tied to a Jackie Robinson baseball card trade negotiated in high school between the two male protagonists, I hope readers will hasten to the Aurora box office and purchase tickets for, This is How it Goes: subtitle, The truth is always of some importance.
I strongly recommend it.
Where: The Aurora Theater Company
2081 Addison Street
Berkeley, CA 94704
Ph: 510-843-4822
http://www.auroratheatre.org