Alfred Uhry's The Last Night of Ballyhoo, now onstage at Boiler Room Theatre, is a perfect choice for the holiday season, focusing on an Atlanta family on the December night in 1939 when Gone With the Wind premiered there.
In Europe, the Nazis had invaded Poland, in Washington, D.C. FDR was dealing with an isolationist Congress and people the world over worried about the possibility of a war to eclipse the horrors of The Great War. But in Atlanta, the Levys and the Freitags were more concerned, in the long-term, about marrying off their two daughters and, in the short-term, finding escorts for the two girls to the ball that serves as the climax to Ballyhoo, the South's preeminent social whirl for the region's more affluent Jews.
As he does in the better known Driving Miss Daisy, Uhry effectively examines the roles of Jews in Southern society and their struggles to assimilate into that society in the early- to mid-20th century. Driving Miss Daisy is a wonderfully written story, sweetly and sentimentally told, but The Last Night of Ballyhoo is a far more important work, examining thornier issues and shining the light on the accompaning self-loathing and internalized anti-semitism that accompanies assimilation. In Ballyhoo, Uhry's characters are richly drawn, eschewing stereotypes to create believable, accessible people with whom the audience can relate.
Certainly, Uhry's superb script remains intact, but unfortunately director Laura Skaug and her cast give it short shrift, failing to capitalize on the many possibilities inherent in the play and, in so doing, failing to give the audience characters for whom they can root. Despite the suspension of disbelief and the desire to lose oneself in the onstage action, with this production of Ballyhoo, you are never able to forget you are watching a play.
At first blush, particularly appalling is the character of Beulah ("Boo") Levy, who comes across simply as a social-climbing harridan but who given the proper attention can be viewed as a loving mother who simply wants the best for her daughter-thereby making her actions more palatable. However, in this production, actress Terri Occhiogrosso plays Boo as a one-note caricature, giving none of her line readings any inflection to represent the obvious inner workings of the woman's heart.
Boo's flighty daughter Lala, played by Christina Candilora, fares even worse. Candilora's Lala is merely a petulant dilletante, her line readings forced and childish. The pivotal Act One closing scene in which Lala goes toe-to-toe with her prettier, more socially adept cousin Sunny Freitag (played by Jaclyn Johnson, in an earnest if clearly uninspired performance) lacks the punch - and, quite frankly, the heart - that it needs to make both young women's path in life come into sharper focus. Candilora and Johnson are both lovely women and their physical differences underscore those of their characters very effectively; Candilora looks like a young Judy Garland, while Johnson looks like a young Grace Kelly.
Brad Oxnam, cast as Joe Farkas, the young man hired to work for the family-owned Dixie Bedding Company, gives a good performance as the Northern interloper whose presence upsets the Levy-Freitag applecart. Veteran Nashville actor Dan McGeachy's avuncular Adolph Freitag is all cuddly warmth, needing something more to spice up his performance.
The two remaining members of the ensemble, however, deserve the acting kudos for this production. Adele Akin's performance as Sunny's mother Reba is charmingly real and genuinely heartfelt. And actor Chris Basso injects some much-needed levity with his wonderful portrayal of Peachy Weil, "of the Louisiana Weils," whose smart-mouthed ways typify generations of Southern good ole boys, whether they are Jew or gentile. Basso's confident performance lifts the play's proceedings in each of his scenes, giving a certain buoyancy to his castmates' efforts.
- The Last Night of Ballyhoo. By Alfred Uhry. Directed by Laura Skaug. At Boiler Room Theatre, Franklin. Through December 20. For details, visit the website at www.BoilerRoomTheatre.com; for tickets, call the box office at (615) 794-7744.
Videos