"Hearts": How to Win and Still Lose

◊◊◊out of five.  90 minutes, no intermission.  Contains use of guns, explosive sound effects, strobe light.  Adult language, violent war imagery. 

One of the sixty-two characters in Willy Holtzman's Hearts, which opened last night at CENTERSTAGE says something about losing even when we win, or maybe it was something about winning even when we lose.  Either way, that sentiment fits this play, aimed squarely at the hearts of theatergoers hungry for yet another take on war themes and the Jewish experience in World War II.  If you can imagine what happened to Eugene Morris Jerome and his buddies after their boot camp experience in Neil Simon's Biloxi Blues, you get an idea about what Hearts is portraying.  Hearts is expertly directed with both a gentle nostalgia and energetic theatricality, certainly in keeping with the play's tone and themes, by Tim Vasen, and acted by a superb quartet of actors - one in a tour de force performance, the rest in an amazing array of characterizations embodying definitive ensemble work.  But honoring that experience is not enough for Holtzman, who is dramatizing a tribute to his own father with this play.  No, he also examines the mine field that is male bonding and friendship, and ultimately the effects of what we now know as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.  A pretty full evening, especially given the 90 minute run time, and yet he pads the play with bits of American nostalgia, war as seen through the Vietnam-era student, and even a comment or two about the Internet.  With this bloated script, unfortunately, Hearts isn't nearly as emotionally satisfying as it could be.  And so, to answer the very question posed by the playwright, yes, you can still lose even when everything points toward winning. 

Mr. Vasen has brilliantly staged this epic short play, cashing in time and again on its inherent theatricality, smoothly guiding us back and forth through time.  The plot structure dictates this, and Vasen does it with flair and subtlety at the same time.  The best device of the play is having the main character, Donald Waldman, tell us his story, while his card buddies take on all of the characters in Waldman's life, including themselves, Waldman's family, doctors, nurses, and an array of soldiers on both sides of the line.  Mr. Vasen and his thrilling cast execute this requirement with ease and panache.  They are aided by a first-rate technical team.  Sara Ryung Clement's huge set, complete with Army issue corrugated walls, and a floor covered in WWII advertisements, gives the play an epic feel, while very specific playing areas - like the card table, a fox hole, and an office - are carved out of sections of the floor, and give the play's more intimate moments an appropriately small scale feel.  This epic and intimate scale is aided by the superb lighting design of Matthew Frey, who uses his instruments like pin point dabs of paint and sweeping strokes of mood lighting, often simultaneously.  Similarly, the sound design by John Gromada is huge - the bombs exploding make the seats rumble - and small - the music played at a dance feels like it is being played just for the single couple on the floor.  Finally, and like always, the content of the program provided by CENTERSTAGE is chock full of engrossing articles related to the play and offer key background to facets of war we might not think about, but are clearly on the playwright's mind.  (Get there in time to browse the magazine before the curtain!) 

The company of four actors is an accomplished lot, and their experience is exhibited in their sharp timing and deft transitions between characterizations.  The three supporting men play 61 characters between them, often more than one in any given scene.  That they do so with a slight body change and a simple prop or costume piece is amazing and unmuddled.  All three men are also called upon to portray women, but rather than sully the scene with unnecessary comedy, none of them affects a feminine voice and their effete body language suggests, rather than sends up women - a wife, a nurse, a granddaughter.   

Of the three, Merwin Goldsmith is the least effective, but he is also given the least to do.  His main character, Herbie, is meant, I think, to be funnier than he is.  Herbie likes to play cards in his boxer shorts (a gentle giggle) and has a stuttering problem (not funny, even when his friends mock him).  Goldsmith does ok with a few roles as Army higher-ups - arrogant and idiotic, but is really best as the granddaughter of Donald.  He nails the inflections of a bored youngster hopelessly trying to keep her grandfather up-to-date, and he is priceless with an iPod and Hello, Kitty sweatshirt (costumes by David Burdick). 

More successful is Bill Cwikowski, whose main character, Babe, introduces the theme of PTSD, even though he is unaware of its existence.  His attempts to hide what he sees as a shortcoming in his manhood is very touching, and his rocky kinship with Donald, who also suffers from it, is pitch perfect, even as they argue over whether or not each has a problem.  Cwikowski plays a wide variety of bit parts, the most effective being an elderly woman Holocaust survivor, and another survivor that later brings Donald some relief from a deep guilt. 

As Ruby, Vasili Bagazianos, gets the meatiest roles - slick pawn shop owner, and, later, Donald's wife, Ev.  Mr. Bagazianos brings a strength and power to each role he plays, more obvious as Ruby, more subtle (and extremely effective) as Ev.  However, it is his role as Donald's foxhole mate that makes the most lasting impression.  In these tense scenes, both actors (and the playwright) really bring a sharp focus on how soldiers survive and depend upon and love each other.  How that character ends up, and the impact it has on the play and the audience, are what, I believe, Holtzman is trying to do with the whole piece.  

In what will very likely become the male performance of the year, Jordan Charney plays Donald Walman with a dignity sure to have pleased the real man being honored, Holtzman's father.  This warts and all tour de force performance is notable for its ease, style and carefully selected moments.  As the narrator and key figure in this drama, Mr. Charney has a huge task, one that he unfailingly lives up to, even when the play itself lets him down.  As Walman, this fine actor ages from child to old man, and never in chronological order.  He shows us a young man in love, a happily married man, and a harried husband and father.  He shows us male friendship in its most real way - you'd swear the four of these men really did live together all of their lives - in the subtle affections, the loud-mouth arguments, and a profound loyalty.  But when Charney/Waldman are revealing the complexities of life as a soldier, it is often humorous (in that laugh-so-you-don't-cry kind of way), sometimes terrifying, and always poignant way, the play really soars. Mr. Charney is particularly moving when portraying those scenes which let us know what is causing is PTSD, manifested in an insatiable appetite - he is literally eating away his pain.  The fear in his eyes as he jokes and blusters his way through battle after battle is quite moving, and the draining catharsis he finds by the end is a satisfying way to give his character closure.  His is a performance likely to be remembered for seasons.

That the play itself is not as satisfying as the acting and directing leaves me with an odd feeling.  Holtzman pushes all of the right buttons, gives us moments that beg for tears to be shed, and other moments to feel nostalgic warmth.  And yet, it still doesn't work to its desired effect.  Is it too much of a good thing?  Perhaps there is simply too much going on to cram into 90 intermissionless minutes.  Perhaps this is too much of a familiar thing.  Yes, he covers some new ground in the Jewish perspective on WWII, and certainly brings PTSD to the fore (the most interesting aspect of the play and deserving of more of the playing time).  And yet, a feeling of "been-there-done-that" pervades the evening, not to minimize in any way the contributions to history the real men who served made.  But it says a lot when I, and nearly every one of my colleagues sitting around me, looked at our watches or cell phones to see how much time has past.  Ninety minutes of engrossing, emotional theatre should fly by, but here it doesn't.  I really wanted to love Hearts, leaving the theatre with emotions running high, eyes moist.  Instead, I kind of liked it and left feeling like I lost when I should have won.

PHOTOS by Richard Anderson, courtesy of CENTERSTAGE.  TOP to BOTTOM: Bill Cwikowski, Jordan Charney, Merwin Goldsmith and Vasili Bogazianos; Donald Walman (Jordan Charney) in his foxhole; Jordan Charney and Vasili Bogazianos fend off the Germans; old pals Donald (Jordan Charney) and Herbie (Merwin Goldsmith) argue over a game of Hearts; a moment of fear and discovery for Donald Waldman (Jordan Charney).

 

 

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