Floyd And Clea Under The Western Sky: On The Road Again

Don't bother checking you Playbill while watching Playwrights Horizons' new offering.  As much as you may think you're watching a country/western variation on A Star Is Born it's actually David Cale and Jonathan Kreisberg's Floyd And Clea Under The Western Sky.  Old dramatic chestnuts get a healthy workout in this two-person story of young meets old, washed up meets on the rise and substance abuser meets…  well, substance abuser, but the clichés are too abundant, the dialogue too lightweight and the songs too irrelevant for anything but the powerhouse singing voice of Mary Faber to have much impact in this one.

 

When we first meet singer/songwriter Floyd Duffner (Cale), his audience is having a good ol' time hearing him play at some dive in Lubbock, Texas.  Or at least, the recorded audience we hear over the sound system seems to be having fun hearing lyrics like "You sent me Belgian chocolates / And you sent me shirts to wear / You sent me once a Chia Pet / Made out of pubic hair."  But after one too many drunken gigs Floyd has been reduced to living out of his car somewhere under the big Montana sky.  There he meets 20-year-old aspiring singer/songwriter Clea; less than half his age and more than twice as talented.

 

Living in a trailer home with her mom, after surviving an abusive father, Clea has a clear plan for going out to Los Angeles to become rich and famous.  With her encouragement, Floyd starts straightening out, though her innocent hugs and snuggles leave him a bit confused as to whether or not their relationship will turn romantic.  And when Clea's plans lead her in unexpected directions, Floyd is there for her.  Though friendship and mutual support may be uplifting subjects for a play, there is little conflict here that isn't resolved too cleanly to stir up any interest.

 

Though Cale is credited with having written the book, I hesitant to call this piece a musical because none of the songs (lyrics by Cale, music by Kriesberg) are interpolated into the plot.  Back up by an on-stage band (Dylan Schiavone, Jimmy Heffernan, Brad Russell and Bill Campbell) most of Floyd and Clea's numbers are sung as stage performances (one recorded song is played during a scene transition), with only a few of them bearing any real significance to the story and characters.  They might certainly add up to an enjoyable cast album, but very few musical moments work dramatically.  At the end of one scene, Floyd "writes" a new song by singing into a tape recorder a recap of nearly everything the audience has seen up until that point.

 

Under director Joe Calarco, Cale does his grubby central character better service as an actor than as a writer, except for cartoonish reactions whenever Clea shows Floyd affection.  He sings with a realistically average voice appropriate for his character's folky tunes.  Faber has little to work with playing the underwritten Clea, but kicks into high gear with country-tanged blues and rock.

 

Anne Kennedy (costumes), Chris Lee (lights) and Ken Travis (sound) all make quality contributions and David Korins' terrific set is covered in mountains of snow.  A trio of telephone poles growing out of the drifts look like crucifixes.  (Though the snow looks a little out of place in one scene when Floyd mentions it's 85 degrees out.)

 

Photos by Joan Marcus:  Top:  David Cale

Center:  Mary Faber and David Cale

Bottom:  Mary Faber

 

 

To post a comment, you must register and login.