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| Crimes of the Heart | by Beth Henley | Directed by Ellen Clair Lamb | Produced by the Gaslight Theater, at Hallowell City Hall | through August 25 | 207.626.3698 |
Since the time they were kids, the three quirky Magrath sisters of Hazelhurst, Mississippi, have gotten each other through some exceptionally bad days. First, their father left. Then, their mother hanged both herself and the old yellow cat. Grown now, the sisters have a new madcap crisis on their hands: Babe (Shawna Houston), the baby of the family at 24, has just up and shot her socially prominent husband of six years, and the only reason she can immediately give is that she “didn’t like his looks.”Things aren’t looking great for Babe legally, not to mention psychologically. But fortunately, the Magrath sorority is nutty but rugged. Together with Babe, eldest sister Lenny (Amelia Brackett) and recently-returned prodigal Meg (Stacy Laflin) unite. They make willful comedy of the family tragedies, in Beth Henley’s funny and touching Crimes of the Heart, directed by Ellen Clair Lamb, in a community theater production of the Gaslight Theater.
These Magraths are three dynamic and kooky women, even if they’ve been battered by fate and shamelessly whispered about by small-town gossips like cousin Chick (Thalia Ravlin, pitch-perfect in her bitchery). Lenny and Meg have their own, if less dramatic, problems: Responsible Lenny has, at 30, experienced next to nil in the way of romance. And Meg’s dreams of a singing career in California dead-ended in a job at a dog-food factory, bringing her back home to dabble with married old flame Doc (Tim Knowlton, lanky and winning). Now the three of them must not only oversee Babe’s young legal counsel (Steffan Ganske, who captures the lawyer’s quirky drive but should watch for burying lines in his accent), but also confront a whole slew of old family woes.
All three sisters are plum roles, strongly and distinctively written, and director Lamb’s leading ladies deliver these rich characters with energy, range, and evident affection. The willowy Houston gives Babe an ethereal whiff of daftness, as she fills her lemonade glass half-full of sugar, which plays well against the more matter-of-fact worry and insecurity in the eyes and voice of Brackett’s Lenny. As the sensual Meg (who has always been “popular” with the boys), Laflin has a loose physical language and as she leans, puts hands on hips, and drinks bourbon, in graceful contrast to how the other two move.
These actresses do well in conveying the differences between the sisters, but are especially moving in their commonality. The rapport of the three is the linchpin of the play, and Brackett, Houston, and Laflin give it verisimilitude that’s alternately heartbreaking and hilarious. As emotions rise to hysterical heights of anger, hilarity, and affection, these actresses convey the sisters’ bond beautifully and candidly. Lenny, deprived of her one birthday box of chocolates, goes maniacally after Meg for having eaten one bite out of every one (and goes on to demand why Meg had 12, instead of just three, jingle-bells on her petticoat). There are several memorable laughing fits, full of an abandon and helplessness that’s true to shared female genes. And it’s enearing to watch the sisters swirl into a warm whirlwind of excitement to make cocoa and play cards, like in the old days.
