'The Scene' is Where It's At

The Scene
By Theresa Rebeck

Directed by Scott Edmiston; Scenic Designer, Janie E. Howland; Costume Designer, Gail Astrid Buckley; Lighting Designer, Karen Perlow; Sound Designer, Dewey C. Dellay; Production Stage Manager, Nerys Powell; Assistant Stage Manager, Amy Weissenstein

Cast:
Clea, Georgia Lyman; Lewis, Barlow Adamson; Charlie, Jeremiah Kissel; Stella, Julie Jirousek

Performances through March 15, 2008 at The Lyric Stage Company
Box Office 617-585-5678 or www.lyricstage.com

The Lyric Stage Company presents the New England premiere of The Scene by Theresa Rebeck. Directed by Scott Edmiston, it features three Lyric veterans and one newcomer who work together as a cohesive ensemble to breathe life into Rebeck's characters. With her natural dialogue and their fully realized portrayals, the audience takes a peek through the looking glass into the scene behind the illusion that celebrities are somehow different from the rest of us and therefore deserving of our adulation.

In The Scene, Rebeck sharply focuses her virtual microscope on our modern day culture that elevates celebrities to hero-worship status, pumps them up until they are full of themselves, waits for them to burst like an overblown balloon, and watches as the pieces fall to earth. Within the framework of the world of film and television is a hip, witty character study of two men and two women whose makeup determines their destiny. Each of them is sharply cut from whole cloth by the playwright's scissors into a three-dimensional figure.

The protagonist Charlie (Jeremiah Kissel) is a bitter, out-of-work actor in his 40's in whom there is little to respect or admire. At first blush, his penchant for speaking out may seem forthright and admirable, but it is more his narcissism than honesty that compels him. Charlie's wife Stella (Julie Jirousek) works in the television industry booking guests on a talk show. She is also in her 40's, funny, loving, and extremely capable. Stella is held in high esteem by her husband's best friend Lewis (Barlow Adamson), the guy who is on the scene to ground everyone else. Lastly, Clea (Georgia Lyman, the Lyric newcomer), who "looks great in black," arrives to throw a giant monkey wrench into their midst.

Charlie and Lewis meet Clea at a party where the actor is supposed to be schmoozing his old friend Nick to win a role in his television pilot. He is so turned off by the games-playing ritual that he comes across as biting and sardonic, eliciting a feisty response from the apparently air headed Clea. She coincidentally had a recent, not-so-successful job interview with Stella who she calls a "Nazi priestess." While Charlie and Clea verbally spar, Lewis shows prurient interest in her and later has her over to his apartment for drinks. Except that she doesn't drink. Except for vodka.

Meanwhile, on the home front, we learn that Stella is financially supporting Charlie and feeling some of the frustration of being the breadwinner while his dignity won't allow him to do what is expected of him to get work. Kissel's most impressive scene in an overall outstanding performance is the monologue he delivers when he bursts in on Lewis and Clea after lunching with Nick. The speech encapsulates everything he hates about the phony, hip, self-important, untalented, power hungry, soulless f*#*@#'s he has to kiss up to in order to get something he doesn't even want. It is also the lead-in to Charlie's moment of decision which becomes the fulcrum for the drama in the rest of the play.

It seems inevitable from their first meeting that Charlie and Clea will get involved with each other, partly because of the palpable tension between them and partly because it is prescribed. However, Rebeck's treatment of their relationship is anything but formulaic. Clea is full of surprises and Lyman's portrayal is funny, sexy, nasty, and smart as she evolves from new girl in town to adulteress to vixen. Her power and outspokenness grow as she climbs from one encounter to the next, throwing over Lewis for Charlie, verbally besting Stella, and leaving Charlie in the dust when the next opportunity comes along. (Shades of All About Eve.) Initially empowered by his dalliance with the much younger free spirit, Charlie slides down the slippery slope of self-destruction to a place far lower than even he could have imagined.

Although not as chaotic as Charlie's, nor as calculated as Clea's, Stella takes a journey, too. Hers is foisted upon her by outside forces, but Jirousek shows us the character's inner strength that enables her to maintain an aura of dignity and emotional control as she rearranges her life. She provides us a window into her vulnerability, but closes it quickly to move on. Adamson offers his usual steady performance as the steadying influence in his friends' lives. Lewis is the least flashy of the four, but he knows who he is and he is a survivor.

To borrow a line from Shakespeare, "The play's the thing," and the exquisite, natural writing of Theresa Rebeck is what really makes The Scene worthwhile. While it is very funny, it also raises complex questions and presents serious consequences for the ill-advised choices. Director Edmiston and the ensemble have found the rhythm in Rebeck's lines and deliver them with energy and great emotion. If words do not suffice, you can read their body language and you'll know when Charlie is having a crisis or Clea is getting her way. The pace is at times frenetic, but it serves as a metaphor for Charlie's life spinning out of control. The hanging panels of mirrored glass which evoke tall, New York City buildings are also reflective of the shards of his broken life. The irony for Charlie is that he doesn't want to surrender his fading dignity to fight for a role, but he casts himself in the role of chump and risks losing everyone and everything while we get to watch. Go ahead, you know you want to.

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