The thing is, when I went to see Two Trains Running at Round House the other day, it was the same day I'd just been to a memorial service for one of my Shakespeare Readers friends. And if you don't know the story behind Two Trains, much of it is about the funeral business and the death of an acquaintance whose life would have been worth knowing better.
Of the performance, I'll say it was long but not at all draggy. The production is evenly divided into two 90-minute acts, with a 15-minute intermission, so it makes for a long mid-week night. Still, the audience was on its feet to applaud the work, not to clamor to the exits.
My season tickets have been for the Thursday previews all these many years; so many scheduling conflicts led to my changing my ticket so many times, I finally opted to change to the Wednesday performances next season. I looked at the list of performances I'm to attend, and it turns out my Wednesdays will be the first performances. So they're going to be even rougher than what I've been seeing.
"Rougher." That's funny. One friend tells me that the ONLY show to go to is the last performance, when the actors have absolutely perfected their work. Well, that's one point of view. I like the earlier, "imperfect" performances. It seems more human, for instance, when the actor stumbles on a line or two.
Actors just amaze me. Truly. I've been trying to read and learn from this book that Ken Ludwig wrote, How to Teach Your Children Shakespeare--well, with reviewing it in mind, maybe--and discovering that I can't hold in my mind more than two lines of the speech from Midsummer Night's Dream that begins the process:
I know a bank where the wild thyme blowsAnd that's it. (Did I even get that much right?)
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows
So when a team of actors puts three hours of dialogue and timing and blocking onto their shoulders to present their Two Trains to a few of the 7 billion others sharing their world, I am just always amazed and in total admiration.
Stand-outs for me were the two (maybe?) potential lovers, Sterling (Ricardo Frederick Evans) and Risa (Shannon Dorsey), both newcomers to the RHT stage. The character of Risa, the waitress whom all the men flirt with, with greater or lesser degrees of seriousness, is both enigmatic and pragmatic. She would rather be alone than with a man--like Sterling, the recently released convict--who would do nothing but worry her to death.
Ricardo Frederick Evans (Sterling) and Shannon Dorsey (Risa). Photo: Round House Theatre Facebook |
I can relate to that. But to keep the men at bay, she had resorted to cutting up her own legs, making herself ugly to avoid unwanted attention. It didn't really work, and none of the men can understand a woman not needing or wanting a man. Sterling, for all his recklessness, is genuinely touched by Risa. The moment that they finally kiss, and Sterling receives the girl's absolute tenderness, is a revelation to him and a breathtaking moment for the audience.
Among the other trains spinning around in my mind with this story was all of the superstitions these people latched onto, whether it was routinely playing the numbers or following the spiritual advice of the mysteriously aged ("three hundred and twenty-two years old") Aunt Ester, which always involved throwing a twenty-dollar bill into the river for the advice to work. Aunt Ester's eschewing monetary gain for her work was a contrast to the other unseen character, the flashy local "prophet" about to be buried during the course of the play.
Back to my friend's memorial service earlier in the day. The first part of the service is the readings and the hymns and the recitations and the responses, none of which I knew. My other Catholic friends attending could participate. I sat (or stood, as required) and listened, not really comprehending. It was a good, peaceful time to think about our friend who had passed.
But at the end of the service, our friend's nephew delivered the eulogy. He had been the caregiver for this single, independent "Risa" for the past five months, and told the audience about how much she'd meant to him growing up. His voice quaked a few times, for which he apologized. It was moving and dear. And just as human as a professional actor muffing a line or two. It connects.
When two trains are running, they have to run on parallel tracks or on different schedules, lest they crash. When there are 7 billion of us running, those occasional "crashes" of crossing lives is actually what brings us together.
Two Trains Running
Written by August Wilson
Directed by Timothy Douglas
Round House Theatre, Bethesda, MD, through May 4, 2014
Cast
Memphis: Jefferson A. Russell
Wolf: Kenyatta Rogers
Risa: Shannon Dorsey
Holloway: Michael Anthony Williams
Sterling: Ricardo Frederick Evans
Hambone: Frank Britton
West: Doug Brown
scenic designer: Tony Cisek
costume designer: Reggie Ray
lighting designer: Dan Covey
sound designer/composer: Matthew M. Nielson
dramaturg: Otis Cortez Ramsey-Zöe
eta - later that same day ... I remembered the title I was going to use for this post. When the location for my friend's memorial service was said to me over the phone, I got the name of the church wrong: It was really the Church of Annunciation. What I wrote down was: Church of Enunciation. Which is what theater really is.
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