Atomic metaphor mutates into drama
By Joe Rozmiarek
Advertiser Theater Critic
Radiation is the metaphor in "The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds." A little of it won't affect normalcy.
7:30 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 4 p.m. Sundays through Sept. 9, The Actors Group. Yellow Brick Studio, 625 Keawe St. Admission: $10. (Two-for-one student tickets Thursdays only.) Information: 591-7999.
A large dose produces mutations — some of which may be good and beautiful. Too much will kill.
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'The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds'
In Paul Zindel's intimate family drama, the mother's personality not only radiates relentlessly upon her daughters — it makes her a dangerous atom-smasher.
Betty Burdick takes the demanding role of Beatrice in this production, directed by David Schaeffer for The Actors Group, and plays it wonderfully — much like Bette Davis ripping through a Tennessee Williams' faded belle.
The play is almost a monologue for this strong character, as Beatrice sustains run-on commentary through almost every scene, all of it centered directly on herself. She is the focus of her own painful universe, where nothing can resist her gravitational force.
Burdick brings the character alive with ironic understatement and callous insensitivity, all the while leaking pain from multiple cracks in her own facade. We can be astonished by this woman or repulsed by her, but ultimately we can't resist the pull of her personal failure at life.
Beatrice is the terror of a small apartment — shabby, not chic — shared by two daughters and the latest in a string of dying patients for whom she cares. Daughter Ruth (Jessica Haworth) has a history of psychic collapse and is given to convulsions. Tillie (Carrie Smith) is pathologically shy and interested only in her science project.
The central action is Tillie's competition in the high school science fair, where her position as a finalist offers her a chance for personal escape. But for Beatrice, the event has the daunting potential for emphasizing her own depravity.
Mutations permeate the subordinate characters. Smith's portrayal of Tillie layers emotional paralysis over an instinctively stubborn life force. Haworth's Ruth projects as a crass survivor, but hides crushing vulnerability. Kennly Asato has one brief scene as a contest speaker, and Kathleen Anderson haunts the set as the unspeaking Nanny who holds tight to her walker and to the last days of her own untreasured life.
Schaeffer's direction keeps the material moving forward on hard ground, skirting emotional swamps and brightened by occasional humor. These women are flawed, but persistent and unwilling to go down without putting up a fight.
Curiously, we end up pulling for all of the characters, while recognizing that none of them will be rescued by a fairy godmother. And after all their travails, there is some comfort that they are ultimately composed of atoms that are not easily destroyed, but which continue to reappear in new life forms.
