Plays of Future Past...
The Players at the Barker Playhouse...or The Barker Players, as they're commonly known, are an open secret - an elite club that they hope you'll join. The Players, of course, want your money but they also want your talent. And they don't want to have to deal with the usual marketing and advertising and general media and contact whoring that is an inherent part of providing entertainment. For rarely, if ever, does anyone sacrifice the time and energy required to mount a production simply for business or a tax writeoff on their farm (true story - emailus and we'll tell you about it), but how can you get people to come see what you've worked on? Barker's solution is to create a captive, insular audience. Their productions are by the Players and for the Players. Their houses are guaranteed as long as the membership slots are full.
A fine idea that has persevered, in one form or another, for Barker for over a Century. More Teeth had a brief dalliance with Barker back in the mists of time and the impression then was of a group of dedicated English teachers who loved Theater and didn't care who thought anything about it. It felt like family. And the shows we did then may or not have even been good. The point was that we did them.
And that's still the point, but Barker would love to see its membership increase and More Teeth has been invited to attend their production of Beth Henley's 'The Miss Firecracker Contest'. No review will really matter, but we're curious to revisit this space and see if there are any ghosts still lurking in the corners. While we're there we'll see if Pat Hawkridge's cast has the goods to keep this spunky, but somewhat shallow tale of a would-be belle struggling to realize what she's known all along, etc. etc. We predict some hilarity, a grab-bag of different accents and a general sense of theatrical comfort food. Let's see what comes of it when we're let through those famous locked doors on Benefit Street...
October 22, 2010
'Miss Firecracker...'is one of those things that are just not easy to deal with. As a play, it's sweet and simple and the same can be said about Barker's production. We could just leave it alone at
that. We could save the More Teeth sarcasm and circuitous logic for productions like the upcoming 'Mauritius' at Gamm, where the stakes are higher, the budget bigger and audiences asking for more.
That's not to say that the audience for Barker has lower standards. In fact, a glance around us revealed many of the same faces we run into at Trinity, 2nd Story and elsewhere. More Teeth was a
guest, invited into this house where, it turns out, we already knew all the cousins.
The Jimmy Stewart/Vertigo stairs lead to the Green Room. This is where the ghosts are. Where pancake faces stare back through the glass and whisper lines long since forgotten. Presidents'
Receptions not pictured peek from the corners of these pictures, hidden beneath cast photos and calligraphy. The recognizable and the unrecognized - all seem familiar. They've always been here.
Eerie, yet calming...
Opening the Second Act of 'Firecracker' is David De Almos's Mac Sam, carrying a bouquet of balloons. Flag colors. For the American pageantry of the Miss Firecracker contest itself? For Dawn Souza's
aptly spunky Carnelle? We're never sure. He offers her a costumed frog, but never the balloons. He moves them from place to place endlessly and seemingly without point. Carnelle's cousin hides
behind them (cloaking his checkered past behind this jingoistic hot air display like some backwoods Glenn Beck). He worries that they won't fit places. The tail of a previously used inflatable
dangles just out of view from the top of the stage, making us wonder if they fly loose at some point. No. They get carried off, absently and accidently exploding on their way out with Mac's final
exit. We're dared to wonder at them, these red, white and blue herrings that signify nothing.
Barker has its own courtyard, gated and gothically imposing. Alternately inviting and intimidating, the courtyard is like the building itself. Ancient looking, built into the corner of Benefit and
Transit and possessing all of the macabre grandeur befitting former churches. No one inhabits this courtyard during intermission. No smoking crew members or staff. No audience taking the air between
acts. In fact, just a few steps away from the pool of light spilling through the front doors, one would not even know there was anything happening in this building tonight. The gloom and silence
pervade. Back through the doors, into the light of the close-quartered anteroom that is the lobby. This space is a teeming meeting ground, despite its size. These people are Members of the club,
politely reminding their guests that they too can be Members. The invitation seems innocuous, almost an afterthought, but there is still an air of mystery. Like a Mason delivering a soft sell.
We're encouraged to be a part and a homey and sincere curtain speech drives the point home. For only $75, anyone can belong. All 5 mainstage shows, the special events (including an upcoming reading
of "The War of the Worlds" on October 29, 30 and 31), receptions and "social events" are included. Will joining this family unlock the key to any of Barker's secrets?
Kevin Broccoli may or not be improvising...each exit brings a laugh line almost swallowed and delivered with impeccable comic timing. It's how he says it, not what he says. The script is full of
overt humor, much of it spelled out even in the stage directions. (Add cast. Stir. Bake for two hours with one break in the middle. Repeat five times.) Foolproof. But...here are the balloons...and
the pipe. Broccoli's Delmount soundlessly produces a pipe from a paper sack. Not a bag, but a wrinkled paper *sack* right out of central casting. We never know what else is in this sizable sack,
but we do see the pipe. The pipe is never lit, or pretended to be, but Delmount puts it in his mouth, appears to suck on it and chokes on nothing we can see. The pipe winds up unceremoniously on a
side table, stashed and excused for with a quick explanation and never heard of again. This is the earliest of the prop mysteries. Or maybe the wig was. The script indicates that Carnelle is to dye
her hair bright red. No wig. Carnelle tells us it's not a wig. We can accept that they have chosen to wig Souza for any number of reasons, personal or professional. But, in a surreal moment of
self-realization, this Carnelle removes her wig/not wig in the end, revealing her inner self. "What happened to your hair?" It's gone with the balloons and the pipe. Don't ask too many questions;
don't sweat the details that, in the end are insignificant. What's important is life, love and family. That's what Henley tells us. Pageants and floats and sashes are distractions. A blaze of glory
is ephemeral like the fireworks that close the play. Flashy, but forgotten only moments later. What lasts are the ties that bind us to each other. Barker does not produce flash or fireworks. But,
for over a hundred years, this family has been together. Happily.
The Members congregate in the Green Room afterwards. making a one way trip downstairs. Smiles, handshakes, hugs. Not much is said about the show itself. There is no need. It's why they've gathered,
but conversations in every corner concern other plans, relationships, future meetings, auditions, food. There is only one way out. The main doors are locked again, closed to the night and the moon
that outlines the deserted courtyard. The family is gathered in the basement of this hallowed ground with the ghosts of the past and the future.
'Miss Firecracker' will be over by the time you read this, but to join Barker and see future productions, email them at membership_playersri.orgor call 401-273-0590
