Oh. My. Goodness.
This Irene Sankoff/David Hein stage production isn’t merely an electrifying experience; it’s also a badly needed reminder that kindness still exists in this world.
Its filmed arrival was deliberately timed to coincide with the 20th anniversary of 9/11, given that the play illuminates a quite unique incident — 1,100 miles from New York City — that unfolded over the course of several days immediately following the terrorist attacks.
This riveting production is more than a mere musical; it’s quasi-opera, in the mold of Les Misérables or Hamilton, with only brief bits of dialogue interspersed between patter-song storytelling. Plans for an actual film adaptation were scuttled by COVID-19 — and the Broadway production was suspended after March 12, 2020, for the same reason — so the original Broadway cast gathered for a one-off performance this past May in the Gerald Schoenfeld Theater; that was filmed in place of the intended big-screen version.
(I figure if James Whitmore can snag an Academy Award nomination for 1975’s Give ’em Hell, Harry! — essentially just a film of his one-man stage show — then I’m entitled to treat Come from Here as a movie.
(Besides which, this is must-see viewing.)
The staging is cleverly bare-bones, with little more than chairs and tables hastily rearranged, often mid-song, to convey a café, a meeting room, the rows of seats in a plane or bus, and any number of other interiors immediately recognized via context. Everybody in the impressively versatile 12-member cast plays multiple roles, often switching in the blink of an eye, although each actor also has one “core” character.
Which means that the actors also switch nationalities and accents in the blink of an eye. (Think about bouncing back and forth between that adorable Newfoundland brogue and something else.)
The production is rigorously faithful to actual events, with many characters based on actual people, and in some cases even an actual person. One key character, Beverley Bass, truly was the first female captain of an American Airlines commercial plane.
The setting is the tiny community of Gander, Newfoundland; the story opens mid-morning on 9/11 — shortly before the terrorist attacks — as several mildly quirky townsfolk cheerfully describe their easygoing daily routine (“Welcome to the Rock”). We meet Claude Elliott (Joel Hatch), the town mayor; Oz Fudge (Paul Whitty), chief of the two-person police department; Bonnie Harris (Petrina Bromley), the dedicated head of the local SPCA; Beulah Davis (Astrid Van Wieren), a teacher and head of the Gander Legion; and Janice Mosher (Emily Walton), a young, fresh-faced local TV reporter new to the job.
“Easygoing” evaporates when these townsfolk learn that, as a result of the terrorist strikes, 38 international aircraft — carrying a total of 7,000 passengers and 19 animals — are about to be diverted to the Gander airport: essentially doubling the town’s population for who knows how long.
Everybody’s initial reaction is played for mild comedy, given the inconceivable enormity of the situation; it takes several beats for numerous shoes to drop, as these people contemplate food, clothing, housing, possible medical care and … well, the list grows long. Along with Bonnie’s realization that the cargo holds likely contain some pets.
The humor quickly yields to grim drama, though, because at first the passengers aren’t permitted to leave the planes. Their confusion, concern and fear are palpable; most have no idea why they’ve been grounded (“28 Hours/Wherever We Are”).
At this point we meet — among others — Beverley (Jenn Colella), one of the pilots; Diane (Sharon Wheatley), a Texas divorcée; Nick Marson (Jim Walton), a prim and proper English oil engineer; Kevin Tuerff (Tony LePage) and Kevin Jung (Caesar Samayoa), a gay couple; and Hannah (Q. Smith), mother of a Manhattan firefighter.
Once allowed to de-plane, the newcomers catch up with events by watching TV and listening to radios; meanwhile, all of Gander’s citizens — and those in nearby (unseen) towns — scramble day and night to accommodate their every need … regardless of race, nationality or sexual orientation.
This, too, is played for gentle comic relief; many of the travelers — typified by Bob (De’Lon Grant), a hardened New Yorker — initially are put off and even mistrustful of so much home-spun kindness and warmth.
It comes naturally to Gander’s citizens. (It should come naturally to us all.)
Once the initial heavy lift is out of the way, the even bigger challenge sets in: what to do with all of these people, as the hours and days pass, and their anxiety mounts? Make them honorary Newfoundlanders, of course, which takes place during a hilariously rousing ceremony at the local bar (“Heave Away/Screech In”).
Some new relationships form; others break up. Hannah and Beulah bond because both their sons are firefighters; Q. Smith and Van Wieren share a lovely moment in a local church, as many of the other characters gravitate toward various houses of worship (“Prayer”).
And, yes, some hard truths are confronted; one of the sidebar travelers is Muslim.
Beverley, determined to become a pilot since childhood, finds that the joy she always has experienced, while flying, has been shattered; Colella puts heart and soul into this poignant solo moment (“Me and the Sky”). She was the sole cast member singled out for a 2017 Tony Award nomination, and it’s easy to see why; it probably isn’t fair to say that she stands out amid the entire amazing cast, but … well … she does.
(The show was nominated for seven awards, including Best Musical, but won only one: for Christopher Ashley’s direction. He directed this production, as well.)
It has been said that books and radio drama are superior to the visual medium, because one’s imagination supplies a far better “picture” than any filmmaker could concoct. The genius of this show — in addition to the wickedly clever and descriptive songs — is that we have no trouble envisioning all the many settings represented by the simple chairs and tables; no production designer could improve upon the “reality” we see.
This is bravura, magical stagecraft. Nobody can sit through this feel-good sensation without smiling, laughing — and occasionally crying — and, ultimately, believing that hope still exists.
And boy, I’ll bet Gander will become a popular tourist destination, when we’re all able to travel safely again.
No comments:
Post a Comment