THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, October 20, 1994 TAG: 9410200059
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E3 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Theater Review
SOURCE: BY MAL VINCENT, THEATER CRITIC
LENGTH: Long : 110 lines
THERE IS A poignant moment in the new play ``Dirt'' when Sonny Hardman, an aging man of the land, wails, ``There's something ain't right.''
After a painful moment of self-realization, he adds, ``I ain't right.''
As delivered by Ralph Waite, the veteran father of TV's ``The Waltons,'' the line has just the right mixture of naivete and revelation. We can believe that Sonny has just realized what his estranged son has been claiming - age, and perhaps Alzheimer's disease, have impaired Sonny to the point of near-incapacitation.
``Dirt'' is the kind of risk that adds newness and daring to a theater season. The Virginia Stage Company production, which will tour to Baltimore after its run here, is only the third time this Bruce Gooch script has been produced. After premiering at the Williamston Theater Festival, it had a run at the Old Globe Theater in San Diego.
Both productions starred veteran actor James Whitmore. Waite's attraction to the script is understandable, because ``Dirt,'' more than anything else, is a star showcase - a one-character study.
Although aging and ailing, Sonny Hardman wants to hold on the land that he's worked all his life. Plaintively, he tells us that the world simply goes round and round the same way every year: planting in the spring, harvesting in the fall. All he wants is to work.
In one of the play's most touching moments, he sadly points out: ``I've lost crops. I've lost my wife. I lost my son. The only thing I haven't lost is my land.''
There hasn't been so much generational talk about the value of the land since Gerald O'Hara kept urging his daughter Scarlett to hold on to Tara.
The main trouble with ``Dirt,'' and it does have troubles, is that it's a one-character/one-problem play that keeps hinting that it could, and should, be more. Once we've established the sad fact that Sonny's mind is failing and that he may have to be shipped off to a hospital, that is about all there is to learn. Gooch, who once acted on this stage, has written some touching and poetic scenes but has failed to tie them together into a dramatic whole.
His play has the ability to wrench the heart, but it lets the audience off the hook too easily. The mood swings come so fast that we are asked to switch from trauma to forced humor instantly. Little of the humor works; a good deal of the drama does.
The possibilities are infinite. Zac, Sonny's estranged son, has come back home. He abandoned the farm to serve in Vietnam and now is a trucker. When Zac learns of his father's condition, he stays on, pointing out, almost viciously, that it was only ``duty'' that brought him back.
The setup for a generational showdown is here, but it never quite takes place. Vietnam, with all its possible horrors and after-effects, is barely mentioned. It is unique, though, that it is the older generation, represented by Sonny, that objects to the war. This theme is dropped quickly.
Missing, too, is any real exploration of the troubles that family farmers have had in recent years. It's almost as if the Hardman farm exists in a vacuum. Playwright Gooch, who grew up on a family farm, apparently thinks one problem is enough for one play.
Bill Geisslinger does a great deal to bring out the soul-searching of the son and to make Zac's plight sympathetic. His concern, and his macho blustering to try to hide it, are believably played.
The third character, a down-on-her-luck local waitress, is even less developed than the son. Sonny has been her favorite customer at the local diner every Sunday. When he doesn't show up, she comes out to farm with a cherry pie, bemoaning the fact that ``he's farming out there by himself.''
Michele Pawk is forced to work too hard at making the character concerned about two men who, from all we see, she barely knows. In her most embarrassing moments, she's required to stand on stage and witness what should be a private confrontation between father and son. Reactions can only carry an actress so far. She needs a script to help her.
It is the performance of Waite that almost saves the evening. If this veteran brings the baggage of recognition to the stage, it is the right baggage. His face bears the wrinkles of the striving American - the man we saw struggle to make his little sawmill support a large family during the Depression on ``The Waltons.'' Here, Waite contributes heartfelt passion without stooping to the melodramatics that a lesser actor might have tried. This is a deceptively quiet and fine performance.
Andrew J. Traister, who also directed the San Diego production of this play, hasn't yet figured how to make it catch fire. Perhaps there is no way. Still, he should be credited with never going too far in making this overwrought. He keeps his actors firmly under control, whether for good or bad.
Deborah Jasien's set design is effective in suggesting a rural setting. Valerie Mackend's brief musical composition lends an appropriate bucolic air. Most of all, Kenton Yeager's lighting design is a marvel - from moonlight to thunderstorm.
As the opener of Virginia Stage Company's 16th season, ``Dirt'' is a new, adventurous play in the works. Thanks to Waite's performance, it touches the heart. No father or son will be able to walk away from it without the pains of recognition. ILLUSTRATION: Ralph Waite, left, and Bill Geisslinger portray a father and son
facing a generation gap in ``Dirt,'' the season-opening production
of the Virginia Stage Company.
THEATER REVIEW
What: ``Dirt,'' the drama by Bruce Gooch; directed by Andrew J.
Traister
Cast: Ralph Waite, Bill Geisslinger, Michele Pawk
Where: Virginia Stage Company at the Wells Theater, Tazewell
Street and Monticello Avenue, downtown Norfolk
When: Today at 2 and 8 p.m., Friday at 8 p.m., Saturday at 2 and
8 p.m.; continuing through Oct. 29
Tickets: $10 to $30, discounts for students, seniors, military
and groups
Information: 627-1234
by CNB