Review: ACT 1's AUGUST: OSAGE COUNTY

Might I offer some perhaps unsolicited advice? If you are dreading the upcoming holidays - Thanksgiving is just under three weeks away and Christmas is fast on its heels - and the typical upheaval precipitated by a trip "over the river and through the woods" into the bosom of your family's particular brand of dysfunction, perhaps taking in a performance of ACT 1's production of Tracy Letts' August: Osage County would help you to gain some much-needed perspective. Because, trust me, your family (no matter how off-the-rails they may be at any given moment) can only compare favorably to the extended Weston clan of Pawhuska, Oklahoma.

Darkly comic and strongly compelling, August: Osage County - the 2007 Pulitzer Prize-winner for drama that claimed the Tony Award for best play - is a portrait of family dysfunction at its worst (or best, depending on your way of thinking), replete with physical and mental abuse, incest, addiction, racism and so much more to elicit the most visceral of reactions. But there's no feeling that Letts threw everything but the kitchen sink into his script; rather, the fissures in the Weston family structure go far deeper, with one horrifying experience or bone-chilling episode leading to the next - and as each rock is turned over, metaphorically speaking, what is found underneath may seem more unsavory than anything that could be imagined.

Yet somehow, the story as told onstage is not repulsive. Instead, the playwright draws in his audience with a tautly written, if sometimes over-indulgent, script that manages to entertain while challenging any sense of decorum, or thoughts of "family," that one might have. Take my word for it (from a man who had an amazingly difficult, if altogether necessary, no-holds-barred fight with my alcoholic father, as he lay dying in a hospital bed - but that's fodder for my own play, I suppose), your upcoming family reunion will take on the confectionary air of sunshine, rainbows, lollipops and pumpkin spice lattes in comparison to what transpires in August: Osage County. Unless, of course, you're f-ing your simple-minded first cousin or your mom is taking a deadly cocktail of hydrocodone, oxycontin, Percocet, Percodan, Darvon and Darvocet, with a little Xanax thrown in for a fillip of equilibrium.

The inbred overtones of the Weston family, who have pulled themselves upward by their own bootstraps from their white-trash roots, fertilized by life on the plains (for some inexplicable reason, I am reminded of a lyric from the ill-fated musical version of Little House on the Prairie: "I'm sick with the wind sickness."), resonate deeply and effectively, brought to life by a highly capable ensemble of Nashville's most accomplished community theater actors.

Led by the in-your-face, yet bravura performances of Debbie Kraski, as the cruel and beastly Violet Weston, and Cat Arnold, as her equally vitriolic daughter Barbara Fordham, director Bradley Moore distinguishes himself with this production by his ability to find the right actors for the proper roles (even if there are a couple of head-scratchers on the August: Osage County cast list). Overall, this rendition of August: Osage County is a ferociously acted piece of theater - searingly comic and tragic by turns, and almost lyrical in its particular mode of truth-telling, no matter how abhorrent the fictional story may actually be.

In fact, the plot of August: Osage County, what with its more daunting dramatic challenges, stomach-churning elements and shocking revelations, will likely provide inspiration for an operatic treatment in the future. Letts, in his unique way, proves himself to be the 21st century counterpart and worthy successor to the likes of Eugene O'Neill (whose Long Day's Journey Into Night incisively dissects the preconceived notions of family and its import) and Lillian Hellman (whose The Little Foxes - also fraught with themes of revenge, manipulation, barely concealed rage and recrimination among siblings - seems a likely antecedent) when it comes to reflecting the disintegration of the consummate American family unit.

Kraski's return to the stage after far too long a period is made notable by her searing performance, one that allows her to show off all her talents in such a way that is breathtaking and astounding. As she commands the stage with her solid and enviable presence, she presents us with a character that is somehow almost lovable despite the darker shadings of Violet, whose own backstory is revealed as desperately hopeless and dire. Engagingly, Kraski delivers Violet's most memorable lines with a sense of relish and delight that ideally underscores her performance.

Conversely, Cat Arnold's Barbara, initially at least, seems more refined and reserved - only to be revealed as her "mother's daughter" in a beguiling and perhaps unexpected manner as she devolves into her own injured and abused self as the plot progresses. Arnold's solid performance matches Kraski's blow for blow.

The two are backed up by some equally heartfelt and fiery performances, particularly Layne Sasser's frighteningly comic portrayal of Violet's sister Mattie Faye Aiken, whose late-in-the-play confession precipitates the drama's alarming denouement, which renders an ugly and almost unbelievable impact on all the play's other characters, including Jess Miller's Ivy Weston (the almost stereotypical middle child who is brought refreshingly to life in Miller's impressive and restrained performance, which sets her apart from the rest of the family's histrionics) and Taylor Novak's Little Charles, the hunkily handsome, if simple-minded and mentally abused, son of Mattie Faye, who must be some kind of savant (he writes love songs and accompanies himself on the piano).

Dietz Osborne's performance as Barbara's husband Bill has just the right notes of regret and familial responsibility to make him believable, while Jenna Pryor's portrayal of 14-year-old daughter Jean gains traction as the play moves along, but she still seems too old for the part. However, Pryor's age (she's in her mid-20s) makes it easier to bear when she is practically raped onstage by Steve (Gerald Pitts, in an exceptional and unsettling ACT 1 acting debut), the lecherous and smarmy fiance of the third Weston "girl," Karen, played with refreshing ease by Elizabeth Turner, whose character tries to shrug off the family-bound role placed on her by pervasive social tradition.

David Arnold brings great focus and good humor to his role of Mattie Faye's husband, Charlie (the weed-whacked upholsterer), who is possibly the most sympathetic character among the lot, and Rob Wilds is warmly winning in his brief performance as Violet's put-upon and world-weary husband Beverly, ably conveying his character's ennui with an undercurrent of acerbic wit. Morgan Blevins, as the young Weston family caretaker Johnna, gives a well-modulated performance that shows a great deal of range despite its brevity, and Kurt Jarvis plays the local sheriff (and Barbara's high school beau) as something of a blank canvas.

Despite the play's three-and-a-half hours (which exhausts me just writing it), it nonetheless moves at a surprisingly credible, thoroughly involving pace, thanks to the actor's palpable commitment. David McGinnis' good lighting design highlights Jacob Street's set design, which mostly solves one of the production's most devilish constraints: creating a three-story home on the plains of Oklahoma amid the intimate confines of the Darkhorse Theater. Generally, it works well, although because of the staging sometimes focus might be pulled away from an integral scene by the over-enthusiastic miming of something happening elsewhere on the set. Still, it affords some creative rejiggering of Letts' scriptbound stage directions.

• August: Osage County. By Tracy Letts. Directed by Bradley Moore. Presented by ACT 1, at Darkhorse Theatre, Nashville. Through November 21. Go to www.ACT1online.com for details. Running time: Three-and-one-half hours (with two 10-minute intermissions).

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