Albion Theatre’s ‘Colder Than Here’ Sensitively Grapples with Our Humanity

Albion Theatre’s ‘Colder Than Here’ Sensitively Grapples with Our Humanity

By Lynn Venhaus

As we all accept that we will die, confronting our own mortality seems to be a lifelong journey – and often tip-toed around with family and friends. How we deal with the inevitability of our end and the loss of our loved ones leads to interesting debates.

Such is the case with Albion Theatre’s latest offering – “Colder Than Here” by Laura Wade. The British playwright sensitively tackles the tricky subject matter, as a terminally ill cancer patient plans her funeral, selects her final resting place, and attempts to discuss the topic with her family.

Grief mixed with humor? Yes, it’s tactful, situational and conveys both pain and love, as does exploring complex family relationships. With utmost delicacy, director Robert Ashton has gracefully staged this comic drama in the intimate Kranzberg Black Box Theatre.

Ashton has cast a quartet that can carry the weight of these characters and still be likable, starting with Susan Wylie as the mom staring at her own fate with clear eyes and an open heart.

The family – LIvy Potthoff, Susan Wylie, David Wassilak and Anna Langdon. Photo by John Lamb.

In typical Mom fashion, Myra is the caretaker, but now others must take care of her. Wylie is convincing as the kindhearted and considerate mother who is trying to nudge her family into accepting what’s ahead. She balances Myra’s inner strength with the outward effects of bone cancer on a human body and does so subtly in an exceptionally well-modulated performance.

Her family’s reluctance to accept the inevitable is understandable as they each have different ways of dealing with the impending loss — but exasperating for her. As Myra becomes sicker, she is aware of the ticking clock, if others aren’t, and she wants matters confirmed. She has even prepared a Power Point with fancy fonts, which garners mixed reactions.

Her husband, Alec, in a skillfully nuanced portrait by David Wassilak, is a taciturn sort used to blocking out the cacophony of three women in the house. Of course he cares for them, but like most dads, he has his routines. He really doesn’t want to talk about anything beyond the immediate issues, like the chilly house because of a wonky boiler.

Now, the daughters are grown, live on their own, but return for visits or temporary stays. How daughters Harriet and Jenna cope with adulting is a mixed bag. They couldn’t be more opposite in appearance and attitudes.

Wylie and Livy Potthoff. Photo by John Lamb.

Anna Langdon is Harriet, the more level-headed, ‘settled’ one, and Livy Potthoff is the rebellious unfiltered Jenna, an impressive debut in a showier part – the daughter who everyone is used to ‘acting out.

The girls express their worries, sadness and guilt, and it is frightening new territory. While they bicker, they still care for each other amd realize they will need each other..

Langdon conveys Harriet’s attempts to maintain control but her anxiety is manifested through eczema. Jenna, who has overcome an eating disorder but not boyfriend troubles, becomes a reliable companion for her mom when checking out cemeteries. You just never know how people will respond.

Wade’s first published play opened in London in 2003, and it’s obvious she has experienced grief and loss, for she created authentic dialogue and believable situations to offer poignant reflection.

Anyone who has gone through similar situations will relate. Grief is a very personal experience, and one can often take comfort with others going through the same thing – or shut down. Everyone is different in how they handle it.

Livy Potthoff and Wassilak. Photo by John Lamb.

A family can grow closer, which happens here. They go through feelings of denial, despair, rage, isolation and helplessness. In finally talking about it, they share warm family moments that lead to empathy, understanding and perspective.

Trying not to be morose or maudlin, Wade successfully integrated gentle humor into the mix. And comic relief is welcome, in any circumstance but important here as a coping mechanism.

In newsroom parlance, gallows humor is resorted to when headlines are routinely horrific, so to continue working on tough subjects, someone will crack an inappropriate joke that makes people laugh, thus releasing tension.

The play’s funniest sight gag is a painted and decorated cardboard coffin sitting in the living room (kudos to set builder Jeff Kargus).

We’re not talking a gut-busting farce like the legendary “Chuckles the Clown” funeral episode of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” or even the amusing Monty Python ditty “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life,” now featured in the musical “Spamalot,” which incidentally is the most requested song at British funerals.

Wassilak, Potthoff, Wylie and Anna Langdon. Photo by John Lamb.

But the humor lands, and it’s a nice component. The cast’s emotional journeys are natural as they each grapple with reality, eventually coming together in their shared grief. And because of the mom’s efforts, they can start to heal.

Instead of projections used to show different cemetery grounds, Gwynneth Rausch is a narrator who explains where each setting is and what it looks like.

The simple performance space features a living room with ‘dad’s chair’ and a sofa, and the outdoor gravesites are represented by Astroturf-type grass. The well-appointed set is designed by Kristin Meyer, with construction help from Kargus.

Michelle Zielinski’s lighting design astutely captured the atmosphere, and Ted Drury’s sound design – and Power Point presentation (kudos for the Papyrus!) are excellent. Rausch handled the props and costume designer Tracey Newcomb comfortably outfitted the characters in age-appropriate attire. CJ Langdon was the assistant director.

“Colder Than Here” is a candid account of what people experience on a daily basis, and is sensitively handled so that the points are well-taken. It helps that everyone involved in the project brings an admirable level of commitment to telling this story in a helpful, heart-warming way. And as always, with Albion’s plays set in the UK, the dialect work is impeccable.

When going through difficulties, the only real answer is Love. Do love, never forget to remember. It won’t change the outcome, but it will help get through another day. And that’s a good takeaway from Wade’s play and Albion Theatre’s thoughtful efforts.

Albion Theatre presents “Colder Than Here” June 13-29 at the Kranzberg Black Box Theatre, 501 N. Grand Blvd., St. Louis. The performances are Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 2 p.m. The play is presented as a one-act in 90 minutes without intermission. For more information, visit www.AlbionTheatreSTL.org.

Wassilak, Wylie and Langdon. Photo by John Lamb.

Duo’s Vigorous Work Grabs Hold in Albion’s Witty Drama ‘Lungs’

Duo’s Vigorous Work Grabs Hold in Albion’s Witty Drama ‘Lungs’

By Lynn Venhaus

With its emotionally rich storytelling, “Lungs” demands much from Joel Moses and Nicole Angeli, who fearlessly tackle those challenges in their finely chiseled performances as M and W.

As a couple linked through many years, the pair have seamlessly plumbed the depths of human nature to expose raw nerves, painful truths and tender intimacy. They start out as young lovers – enlightened, independent thinkers — figuring out their life together and separately, then acquire experiences and perspective, increasingly uncertain of tomorrow.

Because of their fluent reactions to developing relationship situations, you hang on to every twist and hairpin turn of daily living in this offbeat, unconventional drama that is laced with humor – and just may elicit a tear or two.

Under director Ellie Schwetye’s shrewd guidance, the duo has created such a level of comfort that it appears to unfold spontaneously, in real time. Their mental acuity, verbal dexterity, and agile physicality is astonishing, as is Schwetye’s modulated pacing.

Angeli and Moses are on stage the entire time, being honest and open, overthinking their lives as developing people on a planet in crisis. They reveal their flaws as they personify their genders – as they interpret the assignment. She’s more neurotic, but also empowered; he’s more even keel, but willing to adjust and can jump in, then deal with consequences. And you never doubt their sincerity.  

Duncan Macmillan’s thoroughly relatable two-hander play confronts making grown-up decisions that change your life’s trajectory — the small moments and the big milestones, the planned and the unplanned.

A recurring theme concerns current global environmental and climate changes underway. With such issues as carbon footprints, depletion of natural resources, and overpopulation being real dilemmas, M and W debate bringing children into the modern world. Is it reckless, risky or responsible – and are they ready?

The setting is various locations in the south of England, over a period of many years. Macmillan’s not so much obsessed with pollution as he is focused on communication as citizens of the world and our place in it.

The sagacious Albion Theatre is closing out its second full season with this penetrating production after entering the regional professional theater scene in 2022. Its mission is to present British playwrights (with forays into other United Kingdom territories and Ireland), mainly highlighting social, political and cultural influences.

This is their most contemporary effort to date. A Gen X’er, Macmillan was born in England.

Photo by John Lamb

Schwetye has minimally staged this 105-minute play without intermission, using Erik Kuhn’s bare set design that features two sloping slabs and a stationary middle. Her crisp sound design and Tony Anselmo’s natural lighting design keep that aesthetic, as does one casual costume design each by Tracey Newcomb. CJ Langdon did double duty as assistant director and stage manager.

The actors, both St. Louis Theater Circle Award winners, color in the rest – their ages, places and times in the ebb and flow of their lives. W is a Ph.D. grad student; M is a musician when they’re introduced in a ‘queue’ at Ikea. The team seasoned the material well, emphasizing the beats of Macmillan’s on-the-nose prose for optimum effect.

Macmillan’s 2013 play, ‘Every Brilliant Thing,” is in the same lane as “Lungs,” examining the complexities of modern living. It’s been staged several times in St. Louis, including a production Schwetye directed for New Jewish Theatre in spring 2023. The playwright is exceptionally articulate about being human, fretful and striving for goodness.

This match-up feels like five sets of championship tennis on Wimbledon’s Centre Court. Surely the intensity would exhaust both actors, but they seem invigorated. By the time Angeli and Moses bittersweetly wrap up this story, the audience has been through a tsunami of ‘feels,’ and all earned.

“Lungs” is not injected with any artificial sweeteners or saturated fat, and the play’s lean, muscular style is riveting. You may not have figured these two people out by the conclusion, but you know them, and are in awe of the actors’ ability to just ‘be,’ no pretense.

With such an articulate, sharp-witted piece, I am reminded that, for all our modern worries, above all, we get to carry each other.

Albion Theatre presents “Lungs” Oct. 18 to Nov. 3, with performances Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 2 p.m. at the Kranzberg Black Box Theatre, 501 N. Grand Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63103. For more information, visit www.albiontheatrestl.org.

Albion’s Heart-Tugging ‘Molly Sweeney’ Showcases Vivid Portrayals

Albion’s Heart-Tugging ‘Molly Sweeney’ Showcases Vivid Portrayals

By Lynn Venhaus

Heartwarming and heartbreaking, “Molly Sweeney” lingers.

Albion Theatre’s intriguing first foray into producing an Irish play is a poignant mix of comedy and drama that prompts further reflection.

Three engaging performers, all delivering memory monologues without interaction, warmly relay their perspectives in an intimate setting that becomes quite special.

A master storyteller, playwright Brian Friel (1929-2015) followed in the grand Irish tradition of entertaining people through emotional connection. Considered one of the best modern dramatists, he published 24 plays, including “Philadelphia, Here I Come,” “Translations” and “Dancing at Lughnasa.”

In this thoughtful 1994 work, he intertwined hope and despair, fantasy and reality, and fate and destiny. He based his title character on a true story brought to light by famous neurologist Oliver Sacks, in an essay “To See and Not See,” later published in “An Anthropologist on Mars.”

The nearly unsinkable Molly is inspired by an Oklahoma man who had been functionally blind his whole life and underwent a rare operation to partially restore his sight, at the urging of his fiancé, in 1991. While initially the surgery was a success, the consequences were something else entirely.

In splendid lyrical prose, Friel weaves the frames of mind of three distinctive characters, whose meditations on their life choices are at once universal and specific – the highs and lows, the ups and downs, the triumphs, and the losses. This cast grabs our attention by pulling our heartstrings hard.

Molly (Maggie Wininger), 41, has been blind since she was 10 months old. An optimist despite her affliction, she takes delight in the simple pleasures of her life in Ballybeg, a fictional Irish town. She talks about her friends and neighbors with great affection, and is married to spirited Frank (CJ Langdon), who finds joy and wonder in nearly everything.

He persuades Molly, along with an eye surgeon, Mr. Rice (Paul Gutting), to go through an operation that may restore her sight. He thinks she’ll be complete. After all, what does she have to lose? (oh, in hindsight…).

Langdon, Wininger and Gutting. Photo by John Lamb

A radiant Wininger imbues Molly with cheer and charm. She’s realistic about the condition she lives with, daring not to dream of happiness ever after.

As their travails unfold, the trio spurs thoughts about how we perceive our place in the world, how we affect people and how we are affected by others during our lifetime learning processes.

C.J. Langdon, a newcomer to St. Louis, is impressive in his regional professional debut. As Frank, a tad off the wall, he’s enthusiastic in his outlook on life and dearly loves his wife, although he’s not as accomplished as others. His heart is pure, like Molly’s, and he is very funny.

Mr. Rice, the surgeon, has had more hard knocks than he wants people to know about, but his telltale sign of trouble is the copious amounts of whiskey he consumes. A once promising doctor, a tough betrayal sent him reeling, and he’s a shadow of his former self. But somehow, he pulled it together to give Molly back her sight. Will it restore his career?

Returning to the stage after 15 years’ absence, Gutting is a strong force, conveying his character’s success and failures in measured tones, and the regret is palpable.

The beauty of a black-box stage is how we can witness these deeply felt performances up close, and the attentive actors put their personal stamp on them.

Robert Ashton has superbly cast and directed this show, welcoming a shining Wininger back on stage after a real-life break to become a mother of two while introducing a fresh young talent in Langdon and heralding an admirable comeback by Gutting.

All three are marvelously in sync as they subtly shift tones, veering from elation and exuberance to deflated and melancholy.

Sadly, this trajectory reveals how Molly’s inherent gaiety about her independent life that Wininger beautifully embodies at first will seep away as she wrestles with all the expectations that sight has done to her psyche  – and how she was influenced by these two well-meaning men (they have their own dreams about being heroes).

Wininger bends her whole body to show us how Molly has used touch, smells, sounds and her own adaptations to live productively. It’s a noteworthy expressive performance physically besides nailing an appealing regional accent and captivating us with her tales.

In Friel’s examination of their lives, he raises questions about our quests for improvement at others’ expense if we’re comfortable with our life — perhaps we should be content with the cards we’re dealt. We should think about what we want, and not base decisions to please others, and maybe those urging us to change should step back.

The observations are sharply in focus in Albion’s finely put together work. An expert team behind the scenes – Gwynneth Rausch as assistant director and stage manager, Erik Kuhn’s effective minimalist set design, Eric Wennlund’s astute lighting design and Ashton’s precise sound design – keep attention on the characters.

Costume designer Tracey Newcomb dressed them in comfy attire appropriate to their social place – an attractive print dress for Molly, casual sweater for Frank, and then jacket and corduroys for the doctor.

Albion always spotlights music reflecting their shows’ culture, and their pre-show and intermission pieces are written by Turlough O’Carolan, an 18th century blind harpist, composer, and singer that some consider Ireland’s national composer.

It suits the presentation well, just like everything assembled for this stirring piece.

First performed in Dublin, “Molly Sweeney” arrived in America in 1996 for an off-Broadway production by Roundabout Theatre starring Catherine Byrne as Molly, Alfred Molina as Frank, and Jason Robards as Mr. Rice. That show won the Lucille Lortel Award for Outstanding Play. A revival happened in 2013 in west London, then the Irish Repertory Theatre performed it on screen in 2020.

Albion’s smart choice allows us to delve into Friel’s discerning sensibilities and vivid characters passionately refreshed by Wininger, Langdon and Gutting. The narrative is as indelible as the actors.

I appreciated their eloquent interpretations very much, introducing me to a play I was unfamiliar with, and now will not forget.  

Albion Theatre presents “Molly Sweeney” March 15 through March 31 at the Kranzberg Black Box Theatre, 501 N. Grand Blvd, St. Louis, MO 63103. For more details on tickets and times, go to Albion Theatre: https://albiontheatrestl.org/tickets/

Photo by John Lamb