By Ciara LaVelle
By Jose D. Duran
By Kat Bein
By Juan Barquin
By Ciara LaVelle
By George Martinez
By Kat Bein
By Ciara LaVelle
Always... can't be called a vanity project, exactly. The title role is played by relative newcomer Rachel Lynn Ricca, a charismatic cabaret singer who, wig on head, bears a striking resemblance to Cline. Struthers plays Louise, a housewife who becomes friends with the musician after a chance meeting in Houston in 1961. This production came into being after several Playhouse board members worked with the actresses on a Broadway tryout in 1997. The result? Well, there are worse things to do than listen to Patsy Cline's music for two hours. Nonetheless nothing Struthers does onstage is likely to convince anyone that her range goes far beyond the demands of playing Gloria Stivic.
Most damning is the actress's refusal to take charge of the show. It may be difficult to compete with a costar who belts out Cline's hits and other country standards with a voice like a velvet ax. Ricca doesn't reinvent Cline in the manner of k.d. lang, but with every chestful of air, she powerfully conjures the memory of Cline's gorgeous and baroque vocal mannerisms.
The show is designed to showcase Cline favorites, from "Crazy" and "Walkin' After Midnight" to less well-known covers of Hank Williams and Bill Monroe songs, and Michael Larsen's musical direction is almost always sure of itself. Still the love affair between fan and star cuts as deep as any other relationship, and Always... is supposed to be Louise's story. This Louise, however, hangs on the sidelines, letting the audience experience her idol's power without ever letting us see its deep effect on her.
Based on the real-life story of a woman who befriended Cline, Always... opens with the singer performing three songs in succession -- "Honky Tonk Merry Go Round," "Back in Baby's Arms," and "Anytime" -- on a Grand Ol' Opry set. (The live music is played onstage by a likable quartet dubbed the Bodacious Bobcats Band.) Midway through "Anytime," a pallet rolls onstage bearing Louise and the set that represents her kitchen. Directly addressing the audience, Louise tells us about the first time she heard the singer, on an Arthur Godfrey show, which her children were watching on TV in the other room one day in 1957. Or as she puts it: "I was subconsciously listening to the television."
I'm not sure what Freud would make of that remark, but what we learn is that from that day forward, Louise was hooked. Cline, however, wasn't yet the superstar she soon would be. She dropped out of sight temporarily, and Louise doesn't encounter her again until 1961, when she hears "I Fall to Pieces" on the radio (again, by listening "subconsciously"). By this time Louise is divorced, a happy liberation Struthers indicates by kicking up her heels in what's to become her signature gesture. She also speaks in a raspy voice that bears an eerie resemblance to that of another high-profile Texan, Bobby from the animated sitcom King of the Hill.
The actress may indeed be playing a high-spirited, beer-lovin' Houston housewife in the days before Slim-Fast was invented, but there's something slightly off about Louise's appearance. It's not only that Struthers is overweight, though, thanks to her outfit of oversize black country and western shirt atop black leggings and cowboy boots, we see a lot more of her large rear end than we really want. With her well-coifed helmet of a hairdo, Struthers seems to be fighting the notion that she's supposed to be less than glamorous. Louise is an ordinary person. Struthers is portraying a star disguised as a mortal, and the effect is silly. She plays to the audience, which is fine for those who want an up-close glimpse of an Emmy Award-winning actress, but the effort keeps us from getting lost in the story.
Always... is told in flashbacks as Louise recounts her one meeting with Cline before a show at Houston's famous Esquire Ballroom (a gigantic dance hall the size of several football fields, according to Louise). Having arrived early Louise notices a woman checking out the room and realizes it's the singer. She introduces herself to the down-to-earth Cline, and the two share a beer. In a scene that poignantly comments on Cline's naivete, Louise helps Patsy negotiate with the Ballroom management and gets them to agree to two short sets rather than one backbreaking four-hour ordeal. She takes the singer home for a midnight breakfast after the show and gets her an interview at a radio station the next morning. By the time Cline leaves town, the two are bosom buddies.