Lucia Mad
Lucia Joyce, daughter of Irish novelist James Joyce has got it bad, and that ain't good. She's smitten for dad's new chum, Samuel Beckett, and no amount of repartee will quiet her unrequited love. This is the premise behind Don Nigro's bloated tragi-farce, Lucia Mad.
Don Nigro's play needs another draft. I realize it was published in 1993, and Mr. Nigro is well past the point where he cares two shakes what a reviewer may think about this particular play. Regardless, the play suffers from glaring faults and excesses in the storytelling. Some scenes seem like unnecessary digressions, a walking-through of actions best placed under narrative ellipses. Had the playwright exercised more economy, the play would run a much more manageable length, somewhere south of two hours. Must we meet the pimp who stabs Beckett? Must we meet him again? It is scenes like this that distract from the central concern of the play: Lucia.
Meg Wallace does not find her stride in the all-too-important title role. There is no mania, no effervescence, just a dull, morose wet-blanket of shallow yet glum emoting. It's little wonder Sam Beckett would rebuff her advances. Wallace is capable of sculpting a three-dimensional Lucia. There are rare twinkles of potential in her performance. The neurosis and psychosis Lucia displays need specificity and grounding.
Like daughter, like father. Ian Patrick Williams' James Joyce seems like a pleasantly befuddled man, not a mad genius who's daughter becomes a "work-in-progress" reflection of the his own brand of insanity.
Two performances do stand out. Robert Ross is a revelation as Samuel Beckett. He is a caged beast, trapped inside his mind. Ross' deadpan hysteria electrifies the piece whenever he's onstage. Pamela Daly commands the stage as Nora Joyce, the brassy, Irish eye in the center of the crazy that swirls about her.
Steve Jarrard delivers a furniture set, simple and effective. Upstage flats painted the color of the house walls nicely tie in the set, masking the abundance of depth and lack of width that the Sherry provides. Dan McNamara makes the most of the Sherry's very limited capacity, and covers shifts in location nicely with his lighting design. The costume design is uncredited, but thoughtful. From Joyce's bow ties to Beckett's moth-eaten sweater, each character is nicely framed by the choices made.
Collaborative Artists Ensemble obviously put a lot of thought and effort into producing a quality show. They are capable artists, this much is obvious. Handicapped by a self-indulgent script they did not quite hit the mark.