Kowlaski
It’s tempting to play around with what if’s concerning two titan figures of the stage and screen, but does it make for good theater? That’s the crux of the problem in Gregg Ostrin’s new play.
What if?…an unknown actor and a celebrated playwright tussled in an egocentric driven power play…who would win? I can almost hear Michael Buffer’s catchphrase, “Let’s get ready to rumble!”
In one corner of the intricately detailed summer cottage set by Rand Sagers, we have Tennessee Williams (Curt Bonnem) in a pair of Bermuda shorts and his characteristic Hawaiian shirt. His handicap? A long-stemmed cigarette holder, a penchant for hitting the sauce and an effeminate sashay. In the other corner, we have the smoldering, indifferent, brash, rough and tumble Marlon Brando (Ignacio Serricchio), seething with contempt for anything that isn’t Method. His handicap is his incessant mumbling, curled lip, snorts of derision and impetuous youth. The potential for such a novel idea is great, the execution not half bad, but is the attempt to posit the fly on the wall theory noble or even daring?
The answer is ultimately, no. Although the premise of Brando’s audition for the role of Stanley Kowalski in “Streetcar…” is tantalizing and the show finally finds its legs midway with the arrival of a pathetic pawn, a young wannabe actress, Jo (Sasha Higgins) treated like a chew toy between the men she equally admires. The show works in a superficial, TV-MOW schlocky sort of way, and this in itself is entertaining up to a point, but Ostrin relies too much on stereotype, playing into the image of these men instead of resisting the temptation to feed into the hype and fodder.
That’s the problem with recreating such a rendezvous between famous figures. It can be done, and it can be done quite well, but such an idea requires more imagination and deeper psychological insight to offer something provocative and fascinating to these legendary stars.
Most plays demand audiences to suspend disbelief and part of this is the pleasurable experience whenever one loses themselves in the action and the story playing out onstage. The difficulty with these iconic characters is the immediate familiarity and loaded attributes encapsulated by history and the public record. Much is conjecture; the rest is a sort of mythic anecdotal knowledge exacerbated by time and the insatiable need to pick at the dusty bones.
What keeps this somewhat engaging is the cast, whose only weakness is in playing exactly what is written. There are no subtleties, but Serricchio certainly did his homework, capturing much of the mannerisms and the vocal inflections of a young, brooding Brando. At times, he wears the chip on the shoulder attitude until it begins to wear as thin as his muscle-revealing T-shirt, but whenever Marlon gets his shackles up, Serricchio convinces.
A little less can be said for Bonnem in the unenviable role of Williams. Physically, Bonnem’s owlish eyes and facial expressions conjure a seeming likeness to the playwright, especially if you squint or take off your glasses. The role traps Bonnem into a caricature of Tennessee, forcing him to act out as petulant, bratty, scheming little troll, quick to stab his close friend and director Margo Jones, ably played by Alexa Hamilton in the back at the first whiff of opportunity. Loyal Tennessee fans will squirm in their seats by Ostrin’s portraiture, and although Bonnem does little to play against this stock depiction, it seems more than unfair to shoot the actor.
Rick Shaw tries mightily to work against the first, plot-plodding half hour that includes a gratuitous bare-bottomed moment between Williams and his lover Pancho Rodriquez (Les Brandt). The play would fare better if it began with the immediate arrival of Brando, but as it stands, Shaw does attempt to speed the action along, which develops its own surging momentum, particularly when Brando has Williams pinned against a wall in a suggestive, homoerotic confrontation.
Those who only superficially know of Tennessee Williams or Marlon Brando will derive some enjoyment at the very idea of pitting these two gladiators inside a Cape Cod coliseum. For everyone else, purists or anyone who cringes at the savagery of creative (or uncreative) license taken at the expense of historic fact will find this play unsettling and at times, a tad unsavory.
“Kowalski”
Runs through Sept 4
Fri & Sat @ 8pm
Sundays @ 7:30pm
The Two Roads Theater
4348 Tujunga Blvd.
Studio City, CA 91604
(Across from Vittello’s)
PH: 818-762-2282
www.tworoadstheater.com
Tickets: $30