Read the exclusive More Teeth article on the Park Theatre and Ken Dooley's 'John Gordon'
If The Coat Don't Fit...
The challenge of a courtroom drama where the outcome is not only a foregone conclusion within the story, but a widely known historical fact, is in exploring conflict. Clashes of will, character, philosophy - obstacles of any type allow an audience to empathize and sympathize, based on our collective experience. For, though we know Gordon will hang in the end, how invested do we become in the story of John and his family and how compelling is the courtroom battle that serves as the centerpiece of this play? Unfortunately, there is not enough in 'The Murder Trial of John Gordon' to allow us to care too much about the titular character or to even relish fully demonizing the prosecuting villains of the piece. We're left with too much middle ground, too much gray area and far too much exposition to make it a fully satisfying piece of drama (that being said, More Teeth witnessed the final dress rehearsal, not opening night, so it's possible that some of these divisions will become sharper as the performance progresses throughout its month-plus run).
'Gordon' certainly does not suffer from a lack of period or cultural aesthetic, however. The muted browns, greens and grays of the solidly crafted set and costumes evoke period and place. Though we see a world (minus the opening scene which gives us a glimpse of the Gordon brothers about to leave Ireland after a night of farewell jigs, reels and pints) run by the descendants of the English, the Irish have a voice that speaks, literally and figuratively, throughout the play. Irish Musician Tom McGuire lends an original composition to the Mashanglass tavern scene which serves almost as a travelogue to transition from the Gordons' exit as heroes to bottom rung of the social ladder in Rhode Island.
Such exposition in song takes the weight off of the narrative, as 'Gordon' relies too heavily in places on an overstatement of the facts at the expense of the characters themselves. The fictional character of courtroom janitor Ryan Murphy suffers the most in this respect. He is gamely portrayed by Michael Healy with a charm that belies the tragedy underneath the story. Murphy cracks wise with down home Irish humor and undercuts his own function as the conveyor of the plight of the Irish immigrant. Even as he's telling us that most Irish died en route since the ships' captains already had their fare, we're listening more to how he says it than what he says. Murphy's character takes the fullest arc in the narrative as his fate parallels the slow rise of the Irish in the status of society, but his last words (the last of the play) are contradictory - the best revenge, he tells us, is forgiveness. It would, seem, however, that the best revenge is living well, and when he mentions that the Irish even serve in politics now, we smile at the thought of the Kennedys. As delightful as Healy (and Ryan Murphy) is to watch, the character is superfluous and his lines would perhaps have served the storyline better had they been divvied up among the principal cast as narrative asides. Hearing one of the Gordons (or, conversely, one of the Yankee Protestants, such as a Sprague or a Knight) relate the plight of the Irish Catholic immigrants may have lessened the educational feel of the play and enhanced its dramatic impact.
Much of this effect is exacerbated by space itself. The Park Theatre is gorgeously vast and it's almost a guilty pleasure to have seats with so much leg room and cup holders in the armrests. The massive proscenium stage swallows up the production, leaving too much empty space above the set and anyone beyond the first few rows missing any subtlety of expression. The Park begs for a massive musical with wave after wave of flying set pieces, not this often intimate drama that may be better served by a 100-seat theater or even television. What happens too often here is that even the attempts to engage the audience seem carried over too much distance. Rather than drawing you in, it only reminds us of how disconnected we really are from the material and the characters.
So what, exactly, are we supposed to take away from the tragedy of John Gordon? Although Ken Dooley's script offers a plausible alternative suspect to Amasa Sprague's murder, it's certainly no exoneration of drunken Irishmen. And we're never allowed, either by the script or the performances, to like John Gordon. Technical Director Kyle Blanchette, as Gordon, does all he can with a character that is simply neither here nor there. John Gordon is either not fleshed out enough or is given too much to say and we're left feeling ambivalent. His brothers, William and Nicholas, are more fully fledged characters, and Jeff Phillips brings a dunderheaded affability to William that allows us to feel both pity for him and anger at his ultimate stupidity. Kathleen Katic, as Ellen, the Gordons' mother, manages to wring the best performance out of one of these smaller personalities scattered throughout the story. Her accent (aside from the native Irish in the cast) comes across as the least forced and her anguish at John's sentence managing to remind us that a real man (and a real son) was hanged needlessly. Another stellar turn is from utility player Mark Gentsch who realizes three distinct characters, even turning a briefly glimpsed Amasa Sprague into something more than a footnote.
Where we do feel some actual conflict is in the struggle for Defense attorney John Knowles (played by Jeff Gills) to overcome the backroom politics and overt prejudice of the prosecution, judge and jury. It's a Sisyphean task, and he knows it. Whether it's simply giving the Irish who raised funds for Gordon's defense their money's worth or because of an ingrained sense of injustice, we're never quite sure. Gill portrays Knowles as a man constantly in pitched battle with both the court and his own clients, his brief showdown with Paul Conte's William Sprague providing perhaps the most fully realized dramatic interaction of the evening.
As mentioned, however, the villains of the piece - Chief Justice Job Durfee (known forever after as "the hanging judge"), Prosecuting Attorney Joseph Blake and William Sprague himself are rarely allowed to extend far enough into territory that gives us enough room to hate them. While Bern Budd's Durfee is written as explicitly prejudicial, even coaching the prosecution to object ("you'll be upheld"), he threatens Knowles with contempt far too often without acting on it and Budd cannot navigate the inconsistency well enough to keep Durfee from appearing anything more than inept. Andrew Stigler carries himself well through what could have been a one-dimensional bully of a prosecutor and the aforementioned Conte brings a stately restraint to William Sprague that makes us wonder if we shouldn't sympathize with this man who just lost his brother instead of calling him out on his shortsightedness.
The true bad guys turn out to be the police (who are almost comically portrayed as bigoted fiends), The Providence Journal and a local prostitute (a feature role by Tray Gearing) who trades her false testimony for a reward she never receives. The character of Susan Fields is one of the few subplots that do not come across as verbatim court transcripts and, although the actual Susan faded into obscurity after her botched testimony, the play has her thrown on a train to New York after taking a vicious beating by one the abovementioned dastardly officers. In a murder story that oddly lacks any threatening moments, this one instance of stage violence seems all too brief and, furthermore, is placed awkwardly in the top of the Second Act where it would have much better served as a powerful ending to a First Act that comes to an abrupt stop.
And this is what makes 'Gordon' so self-contradictory. The atmosphere throughout is mostly lighthearted, save for the yelling and chestbeating of the lawyers. The moment of truth, when we see the supposed proof of the real murderer, is anticlimactic and, once again, suffers from a lack of intimacy. A good dose of melancholy would serve the production well and remind us that Gordon hanged for the sin of being Irish. 'The Murder Trial of John Gordon' would have us believe that Gordon's sacrifice absolved all the future sons and daughters of Erin of their particular original sin and paved the way for their salvation in America. However, the same play reminds us that the Irish had no paving anywhere unless they did it themselves. So, which is it? Were the Irish saved by the martyrdom of John Gordon? Or did they work hard and rise up? This play cannot seem to decide, but like the storied coat of the murder trial itself, forcing that role on Gordon seems three sizes too big.
For a dramatic interpretation of an often-neglected piece of Rhode Island history, 'Gordon' is certainly interesting. At $25-30 a seat, however, one may want to concentrate on the fact that they are in a beautiful theater with a nice restaurant and bar and plenty of easy parking. The added value of the surroundings will aid in thinking of attending 'The Murder Trial of John Gordon' as part of an overall night out in Cranston. Throw in a visit to Sprague Mansion while you're in town and the package is complete.
The Park Theatre presents Ken Dooley's 'The Murder Trial of John Gordon' Jan 14th - Feb 27th. 8pm Fri & Sat; 3pm Sundays. Tickets are $30 ($25 Seniors & Students). Box Office - 848 Park Avenue, Cranston RI 02910 or call 401.467.7275. Order Online here.