I would say that the quintessential American movie is “The Music Man.” The Music Man embodies everything Americans want to be true about America. In other words, it’s mythologically correct. From the standpoint of the ideals American’s want to share about family life, it might be the greatest American movie ever made. All the hopes and dreams and optimism that everybody in America ever had, well they are in “The Music Man.”
The polar opposite of that idea of family life is “Rosemary’s Baby.” A very different kind of drama – full of subterfuge, dark plots, undercurrents of evil. A very noir opposite to the sunny “Music Man.” Rosemary’s Baby isn’t mythologically correct (at least I hope not) but it may be existentially correct (same hope: not.)
And that brings us around to KOLT Run’s production of Rachel Axler’s “Smudge.” Smudge is part Music Man, part Rosemary’s Baby. The man and wife (Barry Hubbard as “Nicholas” and Kelley Ogden as “Colby”) have the classic middle-American presentation. They are hopeful, funny, bright, emotionally available. They are decidedly sensitive and un-cynical. And they are going to have a baby! What could be better?
Well the baby turns out to be atypical. The child is never actually seen, but it’s a girl, Cassandra. As the story develops we quickly learn that Cassandra is misshapen: no limbs, one large eye, and a lower body that tapers off into a tail.
The new baby becomes a source of stress to the parents. Nicholas and Colby are at odds over how to behave towards their alien baby. Colby is horrified by the child, Nicholas tries to treat Cassandra normally.
Colby is trapped with the baby all day long, who is hooked up to various machines via tubes; there is a constant beeping from the monitor. She is going slightly mad. Nicholas’ psyche shows the strains and begins to crack. He is at work longer, although he’s less and less productive. He seems not to appreciate how his personality is changing.
Nicholas’ brother (“Peter”, played by Eric Baldwin, who interestingly enough bears a resemblance to John Cassavetes) provides a bit of self-centered cynical comic relief. He is the foil that provides a bit of reality to Colby and Nicholas, whose lives are becoming surreal.
Things really get surreal when it turns out the baby has some nascent magical powers. Or at least to Colby. The magic is never manifested in Nicholas’ presence.
The dialog is intense, a bit wacky, and seamlessly delivered on time. Everybody hits their mark and stays in character. The fact that the production is so well done is actually a problem. Because now we have to take it seriously and ask, “what the heck is this play really about?”
I am tempted to take it as metaphor — as in “we’re all born as aliens into this world, helpless and subject to …” whatever. Or maybe it’s just a play about a kid with special needs, rejected by the mother as being disgusting. The baby is named “Cassandra” which has some mythological significance, and the baby’s odd behavior being visible only to Colby might have some implication.
But regardless of what level of metaphorical leverage one wants to use to find meaning, it is the case that the characters in the play are confronted with something that transforms them. The play is rich with emotional content, psychological dialog, and moral questions. Once the lights go down, it’s hard not to notice the drama.
Rachel Axler did a very clever job of creating a character in Cassandra that represents every possibility of rejection based on physical impairments, without actually being any particular one. Which of course means that the parents are stand-ins for the rest of us. Even if that’s not strictly true in our day-to-day lives, it’s true in theater.
Cheers.
