Falling Upward
Three cheers to iconic storyteller, Ray Bradbury as he turns his hand to more earthly situations in his charming Irish comedy that celebrates the virtues of friendship, community, and a stiff pint o’ beer.
Set in the gathering house for the boyos, (working-class Irishmen), where no women and no swearing are allowed beyond the tavern doors of Heeber Finn’s pub, the local color paints a vivid portrait of daily life uninterrupted and untouched by the outside world in its quaint little corner of Kilcock county. The wise sage of the town, Garrity (Pat Harrington) preserves the local history and its people as an orator for the audience to which he regales the humorous misfortunes and fortuitous highlights that has come to weave a tapestry of kinship among the men. For the regulars too, Garrity acts as a sort of medium between the present and the past, a shaman for his people whose stories may not reach past the hills of their Emerald Isle, but holds the traditions and memories of their tiny village close to their stoic, besotted hearts.
Heeber Finn’s pub provides an escape for the boyos and the grinding monotony of their lives and the climate in its cozy, pheasant trophy adorned walls. As the patrons, including Father Liam Leery (Walter Beery) amble in for a nip, a quip, and a good-hearted quibble occasionally settled by a resounding jig, it seems not much ever gets done around Kilcock, and not much happens either.
The first act feels like a jolly reversal of Eugene O’Neill’s “The Iceman Cometh” with none of the depressing characters, loneliness, or misplaced anger most Irish pubs succumb to as unwitting settings. Rather, Bradbury masterfully imbues the timelessness and commonplace by injecting the capricious antics of the men with loving attention paid to the poetic language and raucous temperament of this character-driven ensemble. As Garrity retells the memorable interludes that pepper the town with much needed levity and homegrown excitement, he also provides a framework that sets up the reenacted comic scenes that might be too genial and naïve to appreciate fully. The scenes however, are more than a collective patchwork of humorous vignettes, but a mythology that speaks to the spirit and soul of this community.
There is a bike-riding incident magnified by its design requiring eye/hand coordination for one that is probably more than a little bit pissed. Of all the hijinks and hilarious scenes that follow, Bradbury proves that being pissed is not always a metaphor, but does indeed warm the body. In the final sendoff of a fellow gent whose last wishes are to have his recently dug grave christened by fine wine, the men discover a loophole in the will and encircle the grave in a joyous, drunken camaraderie. Not wasting a drop, they imbibe on the casks of wine, letting nature take its course over the Celtic cross headstone marking their friend’s last good head.
Bradbury’s picturesque comedy is not without his signature style, which becomes evident by the second act at the arrival of Sicilians representing the alien beyond this humble little hamlet. Although, their visit seems unlikely and a bit convenient, the symbolism of strangers in a strange land and the immediate suspicion from the boyos is the stuff of Bradbury’s legendary appeal. With the distraction of a sprinting contest and Garrity’s riveting fairy tale of an Ice Queen and a Sun King who with their people come together every year to enjoy the vast differences in their nature, the men of Heeber’s Finn watering hole come to accept the visitors and make them feel at home. This is Bradbury at his finest, and the culmination of a life’s work that idealizes the extraordinary in the ordinary and turns alien into kin among men.
What ties this loosely crafted plot and its goodwill twist is the light and the laughter interspersed with live, jauntily played music and a loving specificity paid to each character until they too lose their strangeness and become our own. This is not a play that tells a story, but a story that tells a play. Like an impressionistic painting, it is best enjoyed and understood in its totality, the mood it evokes, and not by finely drawn plot points that would otherwise diminish the quality and tone of this delightful, if not deceptively simple Irish tomfoolery. The sentimental rendering is refreshing, and like the men of Kilcock a much-needed escape for an evening of follies and foibles that looks at the world through greener-colored glasses and makes our world a bit more colorful and lush as only Bradbury can do.
First produced in 2001 at TheatreWest and the Falcon Theatre, “Falling Upward” returned for a limited two-week engagement at TheatreWest in 2007 where Bradbury celebrated his 87th birthday and commended for receiving a Pulitzer Prize Special Citation. Although, the TheatreWest production ran with sold-out houses, the cramped space for such a large cast hampered the otherwise fine production. In this production, under the keen eye of director Tim Byron Owen, with the Herculean task of staging no less than an all-male cast of 24, the players and the set are able to spread their wings and fly down the aisles and across a space that is fitting and somewhat necessary for this grand a show.
Most of the original cast members have performed around town in other plays by Bradbury including reprising these roles, and although the ensemble is exceptional and delivers a bravura performance the standout for the evening is none other than Emmy and Golden Globe award winning Pat Harrington. Commanding the stage with a noble austerity and congenial frankness, Harrington helms the show by engaging the audience under spotlight while sliding peripherally into the folds of the cast as smoothly as Guinness going down the gullet. Walter Beery as Father Leery seems perfectly cut in the cloth he represents along with Mik Scriba as the burly barkeep Heeber Finn with a consummate fire in his boozy belly. James Horan as the foreigner David Snell Oakley is magic personified, polishing a rather thinly drawn character with the right amount of svelte and swagger so he luminously shines. Everyone in the cast gives a triumphant effect overall, with their brogue accents, their dancing and live music, and are as believable as if they had just been shipped in from Hibernia.
The set of Heeber Finn’s pub is truly a silent witness and additional character in this play. With painstaking attention to detail, Jeff G. Rack creates an authentic, welcome environ for the players to play in as well as providing a feast for the eyes. On this stage, the full breadth and scope of Rack’s vision is nothing short of magnificent and its only regrettable feature is that it is only a set.
By the end of the play, the boyos have undergone a slight change that will become a part of their mythos and remain with them, if only by story, so long as there enough drink to keep them under Heeber Finn’s tables. In the solemn quietude of a unified brotherhood that extends beyond borders and time itself, Garrity in his infinite wellspring of Celtic consciousness and lore remarks that before the visitors there were no fairies, but after their departure, the fairies have returned. This is the magic of Bradbury.
“Falling Upward”
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Theater: El Portal Theatre, 5269 Lankershim Blvd, North Hollywood
Web Site: http://www.raybradburysfallingupward.com
Tickets: 866-811-4111
Dates: Through April 5, 2009.