Actor Cherry Jones, always deeply affecting on stage in over 20 years of work in which I have seen her, has an uncanny ability to include her audience regardless of whether or not the play requests it.
The first time I saw Cherry on stage was at the American Repertory Theatre (A.R.T.) at Harvard, a company she helped found with artistic director, Mr. Robert Brustein. She was playing Viola in Twelfth Night. At the A.R.T., the director's vision and, usually, scenic spectacle were artistic priorities. This production was no different. However, for Viola's well-known ring speech, the huge red stage curtain was drawn to a close, leaving only Cherry on stage in front of it with the audience. I was seated in the furthest row from stage, and this was my first experience of the play. Cherry's series of revelations in the speech were at once surprising and endearing, but they also greatly assisted the narrative. And with each self-revelation, she took us in, breathed us in with her courageous actor's willingness to be discovered in surprise.
The impact on me of this loving, shared, immense work on stage was, once Amanda's son Tom left their home for good with no electricity and no employment behind him, resulted in a re-focusing of Tennessee Williams' form from memory play to profoundly tragic nightmare, not just of one family - but of an entire culture in our post-war United States that in many ways continues today. It was a revelation for me, as well as being poetic and harrowing.
Cherry Jones continues to give us an inspired life in the theatre, always worth both our attendance and gratitude. Certainly mine.
Photo Credit: Jennifer Broski
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