Here's a question for you: When does a theater company become "significant"? Is it a question of the number of seats in the auditorium? If so, your average high school produces "significant" theater. Is it a question of the company's annual budget? Or the number of shows produced? In the theater world, does size matter?
Car trouble skews a pleasant Camping trip
By Mark St. Germain. Presented by Palm Beach Dramaworks, 561-963-7997.
I think not. Plenty of truly insignificant theater companies with big budgets and massive facilities make little cultural impact, for all their blessings. Meanwhile teeny troupes with no resources, some without a theater space at all, dare to dream great dreams. Local examples: Miami's Mad Cat and Juggerknot consistently bang out challenging, well-acted productions on a shoestring. North Miami's venerable M Ensemble Company is not only mounting a complex original musical, Karma, as its next offering but is bringing in Douglas Turner Ward, a walking national treasure, from New York City to direct it. The Plantation-based Mosaic Theatre puts together superior acting ensembles, despite the struggles of an initial season. These theaters pack quite a punch despite their bantamweight sizes.
But perhaps the award for biggest little theater in South Florida should go to Palm Beach Dramaworks, a two-year-old company working out of a thimble-sized theater space on lively, bustling Clematis Street in West Palm Beach. The company's Studio Theatre, tucked away in the Via Jardin courtyard, is minuscule. The facility has fewer than 50 seats and spans roughly 20 feet from the last (fourth) row to the back of the stage. The Dramaworks may be bound in a nutshell, but its standards are quite high indeed if its latest offering, Camping with Henry and Tom by Mark St. Germain, is any indication. This four-character play features complex characterizations, some sophisticated dialogue, and an array of social and political ideas. Combine this with some detailed performances, careful direction, and a remarkably intricate production design and the whole thing adds up to a little gem of a play.
The trio heads out secretly, dodging Harding's Secret Service squad in one of Ford's cars. In the rural darkness, Ford hits a deer, a mishap that maims the animal and disables the car, forcing the trio to spend a cold night out in the open. The journey that began as a lark turns ominous when Ford's motives for getting Harding out alone are revealed. It's soon very clear that Ford wants something and will stop at nothing to get it, even if he has to ruin Harding in the process.
The play derives its strength from character development and a steadily rising conflict among the distinctly drawn personalities. Ford is dynamic, aggressive, and cocksure, the most popular man in America at the time. Edison is his match as an American icon, clever and funny, a sardonic observer of the human condition. By comparison Harding is a failure as a president and as a husband, a flawed, weak man secretly wishing he could quit his job and openly willing to admit his many shortcomings. At first Ford and Edison appear to be far superior to Harding, but as the story proceeds, the two geniuses both reveal a disturbing lack of self-awareness. Harding's life, conversely, has been hampered by self-knowledge and self-criticism; ultimately he comes across as the better man for it.
St. Germain has researched his characters well, tossing in a number of anecdotes and biographical data and filling out what isn't known with some plausible conjecture. The result is a well-crafted, engaging play with emotional and intellectual depth. It's more a poetic artifice than a historical account, but the fact-and-fiction blend works well; St. Germain makes a number of topical points about the nature of power, politics, and success.
The company's artistic director, William Hayes, has staged the production with care and clarity, ably guiding the all-male cast through the emotional thickets. Charles Newman is convincing as world-weary Thomas Edison, and the actor has a decided knack for the role's many comic one-liners, though his delivery seems more Borscht Belt than one might expect from the Ohio-born inventor. Jim McConville's Henry Ford is an edgy, tormented dynamo whose lifelong family conflicts motivate him in ways he does not fully comprehend. McConville manages to get Ford going in opposite directions -- he's refreshingly candid and practical yet horribly prejudiced and thoroughly haunted. Hal Johnstone is also strong as the lumbering, avuncular Harding, a confessed failure who nevertheless possesses the biggest heart of the trio. When Harding speaks about his little daughter and the sorrow he feels from never getting to see her, Johnstone makes a palpable emotional connection with the material that is utterly riveting. Rounding out the cast is David Zide in solid support as Harding's frustrated Secret Service aide.
Scenic and lighting designer Ed Fitzpatrick manages to create a tiny, remarkably detailed forest glen in the small stage space, a bough-draped enclosure laced with leafy shadows. Pam Kent deserves a nod for her appropriate period costumes.