BPF: 'Almost Vermilion,' Mining Company Strikes Gold

◊◊◊◊◊ out of five.

So many truly wonderful things are happening in the Baltimore theatre scene, not the least of which is the beautifully performed new play by Sonja Kinzer, Almost Vermilion, which opened this past weekend as part of the Baltimore Playwrights Festival.  This play is really what community theatre is all about, obliterating all of those negative stereotypes of "let's put on a show" without any regard for quality or available talent.  The convergence of all that is good about this kind of theatre is happening live four times a week at the College of Notre Dame, LeClerc Hall.  I suspect that this is exactly the kind of play the Baltimore Playwrights Festival was founded to produce, and that the new Theatrical Mining Company has chosen to further develop it is a credit to all involved.

Ms. Kinzer's semi-autobiographical play is a beautiful, heartfelt and deeply troubling piece.  It is full of genuine heart - there isn't a false moment in it - and never overindulges in the sentimentality that plays of this nature, even by the most seasoned of playwrights, often get mired down in.  This drama, which tells of a 1950's family in West Virginia, is honest, bold and captivating.  Its positive themes of faith, the sanctity of marriage and sacrifice are wonderfully balanced with the much darker realities of abuse, ignorance and the power people allow others to have over them.  And, while ultimately good prevails and the ending is quite satisfying, it is not at all pat or predictable.  The journey to the final scene is a violent, troubling one - to call it disturbing is to somehow minimize the experience.  It does what only live theatre can - galvanize an audience and cast that has shared a common experience, leading all involved to a perhaps different outlook on things than before the experience.

In short, Almost Vermilion is a portrait of a family in crisis, a crisis long hidden in The Shadows of fear and cruel dominance.  But like all such crises, real or theatrical, eventually the build up of tension leads to a breaking point where only the truly strong survive.  Situations like those depicted in this play (I hesitate to name them for fear of lessening the experience for those yet to see this) either cause the meek to become meeker or for unknown strength to emerge.  Almost Vermilion is about that triumph of the human spirit over unimaginable violence.

One could tell, just by walking into this tiny theatre space that all involved mean business, and what they are about to show an audience must include them.  Roy Hammond's environmental setting covers the entire space, including a screen door entrance for the audience and country quilts adorning the walls.  The set itself is dominated by an upstage barn setting, a constant reminder that we are not in the city; a very detailed kitchen setting takes up the rest of the space, with that most tried and true of familial symbols, the dining table set such that we, too, are at the table with this family.  Mr. Hammond, with the help of dresser and prop mistress Heidi Toll, have created a set that is almost a character in and of itself, no detail too small to include.  Charles Danforth's lighting is spot on perfect.  The small home is not enlarged by overly bright lighting, and The Shadows created are the perfect compliment to The Shadows which darken every family.  The program does not list a costume designer, but the costumes are equally impressive - they speak of a dignity in the face of poverty, which really adds to the characters in a most subtle way.

Kathy McCrory's direction is tight and well focused.  She allows the piece to build and recede naturally, and gets to the real tensions quickly without ever allowing her cast to over do it.  There is no trace of ego - each company member has his or her specific job to do, and director and cast have done well to let each have their moment.  Like the quilts that adorn the walls, each character is allowed the individuality of a quilt square, but inherently knows that a complete tapestry relies on all separate pieces working together as one.  Without this communal sensibility, this play would be a disaster of soap opera proportions.  Kudos to Ms. McCrory for recognizing that and getting so much from her talented actors.

Two visiting cousins, under the guise of being there to work, cause chaos and upheaval by their very presence in this home though it quickly becomes apparent that they are there for a much more sinister reason.  Such roles are difficult to play - they are often overdone so as to be dumb hick stereotypes, or they aren't played hard enough so as to make them truly villainous.  BJ Frank and Jan-David Soutar (as James and Junior) are visually and theatrically ideal for these roles.  Both young men, within seconds of their first entrance,  are intriguing to watch and instill a sense of fear and menace.  These are the kind of boys mothers warn their daughters about.  They carry an air of machismo, charisma and cunning charm that is a lethal mix.  Mr. Frank, playing the less intelligent of the two relies on brawn to bully his way through life and as a defense against his brother.  Mr. Soutar, on the other hand, has created the most dangerous of bad guys.  He uses a killer smile, brute strength, and an arrogant and scary sexuality to dominate the weak.  His charm lures them in and then he strikes.  It is to Mr. Soutar's considerable credit that he handles this small, but pivotal and difficult role so well.  What he is required to do left the audience the night I attended at first speechless, then audibly angry.  The character's actions are so disturbing and so immediately there in this small space, it is literally difficult to separate the actor from his actions.

The goodness of humanity is represented by the kindly soft-spoken town doctor, played with great warmth by Ron Decker.  Again, this actor has not been allowed to wallow in pious excess, and his overall decency is tempered with a passionate flirtation with the love of his life, the married woman who is central to the story.  Yes, he becomes the knight in shining armor, so to speak, but his interpretation is realistic, never schmaltzy.  If there is one area where Ms. Kinzer's script could use a little more, it would be here, in making the doctor a fuller character.

The central relationship here is the small family of Clyde, his wife, Dorothy and their son, Henry.  Clyde is a hornet-mean man who dominates his family with cruel verbal abuse and sheer size.  This man, played expertly by Richard Peck, demands more than he gives, but is the first to lament how he does everything.  Belittling his cowering wife keeps her in the kitchen, cooking his meals and having his clean shirts ready at the door.  The only time she gets up the courage to give it back to him is when he attacks his son, who he perceives as weak because he is artistic and asthmatic.  Mr. Peck instills fear and loathing with his venomous delivery, his vicious physicality and with looks on his face that are pure hatred.  Like Mr. Soutar, it is hard to distinguish between actor and character, so excellently played is he.  The kind of tension felt in the room when Henry is left alone by unfortunate circumstance with Clyde, Junior and James was thick, and not soon forgotten by this critic.  I was not alone when I was moved to angry, disbelieving tears by what I was witnessing.

The long suffering wife, Dorothy, is played by Jennifer Rudick Zunikoff.  Hers is a tour-de-force performance that is usually reserved for some of our more distinguished professional actresses.  Her thick West Virginia accent and delicate demeanor belie a fiercely protective mother, desperate to keep her family together and her child safe.  Like many parents in this type of family dynamic, Dorothy overcompensates for the short comings of her husband's parenting.  In this case, her mothering is endearing and clearly makes her son stronger, though it takes a catastrophe to bring it out of him.  Ms. Zunikoff plays this character with amazing depth and nuance.  The turmoil and forced passivity are etched into her face, and it is hard to believe that she herself hasn't lived such a devastatingly hard life.  And when Dorothy prays to a God she fears isn't listening, but that her faith won't allow her to question, the actress never comes across as a simple, uneducated country bumpkin clinging to her Bible.  Instead, she brings sincerity to it that makes one want to bow his head with her.

Robyn A. Cole, the fifteen year old actor who plays the teenaged Henry, has an impressive resume of roles under his belt, and a goal to become a professional actor.  Unless his work here is a fluke, he should attain that goal in the very foreseeable future.  Henry is a complicated role requiring a harsh mixture of cowering fear and bold strength.  It also requires the actor playing him to understand and endure nearly crippling abuse of all kinds.  Bravo to Mr. Cole for not only accepting the challenge of this role, but for thoroughly attacking it and giving it such an amazing realization.  He plays extremely well against all of the adult actors, and his experience shows.  It takes a strong man, let alone a young man, to go through what he must four times a week.  The role is a rich one, including two sequences of the most satisfying examples of retribution I've ever had the pleasure to cheer.   Those you will have to see for yourself.  I hope that this will not be the last we see of this fine young actor.

That Almost Vermilion is a community theatre production is gratifying for what it says about the potential for excellence at this level.  It should serve as notice to everyone that when done well, community theatre is as good if not better than professional theatre.  Some of my colleagues will miss this very golden opportunity to witness the very best in Baltimore theatre; they (and unfortunately a segment of the theatre-going public here in Baltimore) are really losing out.  But more importantly, I hope it serves to bring all community theatre up another notch in quality. The standard has been set.

PHOTOS: By Sonja Kinzer.  In rehearsal, TOP to BOTTOM: Richard Peck, Jennifer Rudick Zunikoff and Robyn A. Cole (seated); Jan-David Soutar (seated, Left), BJ Frank (hidden), Richard Peck (seated, Center) and Robyn A. Cole (standing); Ron Decker and Jennifer Rudick Zunikoff; and Richard Peck and Robyn A. Cole. 

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