'The Widow's Blind Date' Not a Trifling Tryst

The Widow's Blind Date
By Israel Horovitz; Directed by Robert Walsh
Performances through September 2, 2007 @ Gloucester Stage Company
Box Office 978-281-4433 or GloucesterStage.org

Israel Horovitz's The Widow's Blind Date is not for the faint of heart. It is for anyone who appreciates a compelling story, tautly written, intelligently directed, and realistically portrayed by a cohesive ensemble of gifted actors. This searing drama by the Founding Artistic Director had its world premiere at Gloucester Stage in 1983 and has been produced around the world before coming home to conclude GSC's 28th season.

Director Robert Walsh, doubling as fight choreographer, draws out impressive performances from Derek Milman (Archie), Sean Meehan (George), and Gloucester native Laurie Naughton (Margy), most notably for their sustained energy and array of emotions. Every verbal shot hits its target, while the physical blows look like they do (without anyone getting hurt), adding to an aura of impending doom created by the ominous baling press that lurks upstage. What begins as a seemingly lighthearted reunion starts to unravel and quickly picks up speed toward the inexorable conclusion. Meanwhile the audience, along for the ride, goes from squirming in their seats to figuratively having their collective heads slammed against the dashboard.

At first glance, every high school class has an Archie "Billy-Goat" Crisp, a George "Kermie" Ferguson, and a Margy (with a hard "g") Burke, three kids who grew up in the same working class neighborhood, whose lives converge nearly two decades after graduation. Crisp toils in the baling press room of his uncle's wastepaper company and has enlisted old chum Ferguson to help him out in a pinch. While there is a sense of urgency to finish their task before the arrival of Burke, Archie's supper date, the two men are relaxed enough to swill beer and reminisce about their youth as they gather up newspapers and pile them in the baler. Margy has returned from her life in New York to see her brother Swede who is dying in the Melrose-Wakefield hospital. After bumping into Archie in a shop, she called him to arrange the rendezvous.

Set in Horovitz's hometown of Wakefield, Massachusetts, the references to actual places such as Lake Quannapowitt, the Greenwood section, and Spot Pond, coupled with the Boston pronunciation of words like sistah and wicked (as in wicked stoopid) provide authentic local flavor and help to sketch the characters in their environs. These are not people to be fond of - I doubt you'd even want to have a beer with them. But to spend a Saturday afternoon in October in their company is never dull. Their antics range from silly to serious, deranged to dangerous, ordinary to stunning.

Jenna McFarland Lord's evocative set design pulls us in to this dirty cluttered space, a metaphor for the dreary, wasted lives of its inhabitants. Every day it's the same old, same old for Crisp who began working at the plant as a youngster. Ferguson has been in the employ of the town since high school, but was laid off nearly two years earlier due to the tight economy. Their off and on camaraderie seems more a product of shared tragedies, losses, and opportunities than any genuine fondness for each other.  Margy, the title widow, "got out" of the hometown, went to college,  married and has a couple of children, but her melancholy goes far deeper than her widowhood, to her very core.

I found Margy to be the most intriguing of the trio. In contrast to the gruff blue collar appearance and language of her male counterparts, she presents a façade of fashionable elegance and braininess. As a literary critic at New York University, she is light years removed from her former classmates, even lording it over them by correcting their syntax. Yet, she is in turn a bit shy and awkward like somebody's little sister (which she is), seductive, sarcastic, manipulative, and angry, and Naughton makes each of her moods convincing. While it is not always obvious, her damaged character is pulling the strings and orchestrating the events that unfold, often surprising us with her strength and savvy. That has to be the explanation for her sticking around when she has a window of opportunity to get away.

Archie and George are formidable opponents, partly because they are so unpredictable. If we are taken aback by Margy, we are shocked by the extremes to which these two travel and the rapidity with which they turn on each other (and her) to feed their selfish desires. Milman and Meehan embody the townie persona with a mixture of naiveté, pride, and shame, but barely mask what seethes within. Both actors give such strong performances that it is hard to decide from one moment to the next whether these guys are crazy or evil, but watch their eyes.

Without disclosing the specifics, let me at least say that there has been a cataclysmic incident shared by these three in the past which directly affects their relationships and the events of the present. Horovitz builds up to it beautifully and Walsh uses everything at his disposal to create and maintain dramatic tension. Dim industrial overhead lights, raucous background music, and even George's hooded sweatshirt add to the menace level and intensity quotient as Archie, George, and Margy, each in their own way, pursue a common goal. As Crisp proclaims early in Act Two, "Gaining respect is what life is all about." That seems to sum up The Widow's Blind Date quite well and Gloucester Stage Company garners reams of respect for it.

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