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</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal" align="center"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><font face="Calibri">Reaping a Grizzly Harvest <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></font></b></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal" align="center"><font face="Calibri">By Tom Wachunas<o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unless you’ve been
holed-up in a cave somewhere for the last 30 years or so, the systematic
disintegration of the nuclear American Family (and to a large extent the
deconstruction of The American Dream) should come as no surprise. Like the
weather these days, everyone talks about it, but no one seems to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> doing anything about it beyond
symptom relief.<o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is there a FEMA equivalent that can provide a
permanent, viable remedy? Are the disasters of “climate change” merely
meteorological in nature, or is the true perfect storm of our age our utter
spiritual poverty?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Religion too often
offers impotent platitudes, and even our most revered art and artists can do
little more than reflect upon the tragic dilemmas of our time. Seeing this kind
of content presented in the context of live theatre is often tantamount to
helplessly watching a house – and its occupants - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on fire.<o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the most
revered (if not arguably problematic) artists in the world of postmodernist
theatre is playwright Sam Shepard. His 1978 Pulitzer Prize-winning <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Buried Child </i>is a classically macabre
tale of a Midwestern farm family horribly fractured by the “secret” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>implied in the play’s title. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along with a remarkably impressive cast
comprised of both students and accomplished stage veterans, director Brian
Newberg has brought the story to compelling life in the current production by
the Kent State University at Stark Theatre Department.<o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consistent with
the overall complexion of this play, Jim Viront plays the grizzled,
cantankerous patriarch, Dodge, with chillingly surreal urgency. Perpetually
fidgeting with his blanket, he’s a cowering couch potato gone rotten, popping
pills and sneaking <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gulps from his hidden
whiskey pint. A tired and failed farmer, between his awful fits of smokers’
hacking, he spews complaints and observations with a creepy, exaggerated drawl
as if to shut out the incessant chatter from his delusional, motor-mouthed
wife, Halie.<o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To that role,
Jacki Dietz brings an equally bizarre edginess. Locked in her world of
idolizing Ansel, a son who died long ago under suspicious circumstances, she
lives precariously between guilt and denial of the oedipal secret buried behind
the house. Maybe as a superficial plea for redemption, she lined her bedroom
walls with crucifixes, yet she makes no secret of her philandering ways (more
fuel for her husband’s meandering rants) with the local minister, Father Dewis.
Played by John-Michael Roberts, he appears only briefly, though effectively
leaving the impression that true atonement is neither on his nor this family’s
to-do list. So much for spiritual catharsis.<o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dark past has
exacted an enormous toll from son Tilden. In that role, David Sponhour delivers
an agonizingly poignant portrait of the mental and emotional damage that has
seemingly dis-connected him from everyone but the carcass buried out back. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a gruesome fertilizer, perhaps, that’s
made the neglected land bear the produce he presents to his parents with
robotic solemnity.<o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another son,
Bradley, was the victim of a chainsaw accident that left him an amputee. He’s
an inveterate bully who brutally shaves his father’s head at one point – a grand
symbol of emasculation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chris McDaniel
is generally scary in the role, though at times his facial contortions come off
more like a pouting child trying too hard to look the part. Still, one of the
play’s more darkly satisfying moments comes when he’s forced to crawl, eerily
slug-like, out of the house to retrieve his prosthetic leg. The only thing
missing in the scene is the slime trail. <o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a six-year absence from the family farm,
grandson Vince returns with girlfriend Shelley in tow. But no one – not even
his father, Tilden - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>seems to recognize
or remember him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Vince, Anthony
Antoniades is something of a breath of fresh air even as he genuinely struggles
to reconcile the murky past with the equally murky present. In her role of
Shelley, vivacious Sarah Peters walks a fascinating line between rejection and
acceptance, between mortification and optimism. It’s her youthful persistence
that ultimately forces a terrible confession.<o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If there’s
something resembling healing light or hope here, it might be in the suggestion
that Vince is a dutiful son come to take over the farm – the proverbial
prodigal reclaiming his inheritance, however corrupted it may be. Yet in so
doing, there’s no promise that his labors will yield anything but bitter fruits.<o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Buried Child</i> by Sam Shepard, Kent State
University at Stark Theatre, 6000 Frank Ave. NW, North Canton. Shows November 9
and 10 at 8:00 p.m., November 11 at 2:30 p.m. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tickets $10 adults, $7 students and senior
citizens . To order, call (330) 244 – 3348 or visit </font><a href="http://www.stark.kent.edu/theatre"><font face="Calibri">www.stark.kent.edu/theatre</font></a><font face="Calibri"> <o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="Calibri"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For other reviews
and commentaries by Tom Wachunas on the performing and visual arts in the
greater Canton area, please visit his blog, ARTWACH, at<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></font><a href="http://www.artwach.blogspot.com/"><font face="Calibri">www.artwach.blogspot.com</font></a><font face="Calibri">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></font></div><div>
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