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Friday, June 10, 2005
‘Hazard County,’ here we come
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
THEATER REVIEW: “Hazard County”
Yee, haw. Break out the moonshine and buckle up for a lowbrow gag fest that goofs on the hooty pleasures of “The Dukes of Hazzard,” the ’80s TV show that became the most appealing exploitation of redneck stupidity since “The Beverly Hillbillies.”
Hold on, General Lee. Not so fast.
“Hazard County,” the new play by Minneapolis writer Allison Moore at Actor’s Express, is a far more potent jar of hooch than you might expect at the outset, when an actor playing a regular guy riffs about the lunatic response he got to his ‘69 Dodge Charger, a dead ringer for Luke and Bo Duke’s frequently airborne General Lee.
A dark and provocative comedy based on an actual murder that polarized a Kentucky community in 1995, “Hazard County” portrays a family that’s victimized by the aftermath of tragedy in ways that may surprise and startle you.
Though it sometimes careens into territory that’s disappointingly familiar (mercenary journalist exploits lonely widow), “Hazard County” asks complicated questions about prejudice, stereotypes, corruption, deception and the venal motives of the heart. You may not take a shine to the script’s tonal inconsistencies —- too many abrupt turns from silly to sobering —- but there’s a theatrical richness on display here that marries the white-trash camp factor of Tracy Letts, the mysterious edginess of Naomi Iizuka and the cameo style of “The Laramie Project.”
Moore splices a series of comic monologues, in which a succession of characters muse about their personal connections to “The Dukes of Hazzard,” with the story of Ruth, whose husband was shot to death by a young black man in what may have been a hate crime, a matter of racist provocation or both. Ruth (the excellent Amy Lynn Stewart) is not only down and out in Hazard County with a pair of dysfunctional children; she’s harboring some dark secrets that even opportunistic TV producer Blake (Brik Berkes) doesn’t see coming.
A good bit of the outsize humor centers on Ruth’s 8-year-old twins, Quinn and Quintin (played to the hilt by the hyperactive Justin Welborn and Jen Apgar, respectively). Here, the use of adult actors also heightens the potential for violence and erotic tension: Apgar turns Quintin into an Appalachian Lolita in a pink Barbie nightie, and the confrontations between Quinn and Blake are more ominous because neither has a physical edge.
As Ruth’s tough-gal cousin Camille, the normally showy Shelly McCook seems to be holding back so as not to snuff out Stewart’s smoldering flame of a performance. A mixture of strength and vulnerability, Stewart’s Ruth uses a soft shyness and pitch-perfect Southern drawl to evince a figure who’s as seductive as she is nurturing. It’s a beautifully detailed, finely calibrated characterization.
When it comes to life and lust, ethics and race, the world can be funny, messy, random, complicated and tricky. In a region where the Confederate flag continues to serve as a moral irritant to some and a symbol of ancestral pride to others, this smart and ironic play doesn’t attempt to give tidy answers.
“Hazard County” has no road map, and even when you think you know where it’s going, there are blind spots, hairpin turns and sudden stops. It’s a play that requires you to keep your eye on the rearview mirror, and even then, it’s a dangerous and suspenseful ride.
THE VERDICT: A fascinating social treatise —- with frequent campy asides.
THE 411: 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays; 2 p.m. this Sunday and July 3; 5 p.m. June 19 and 26 and July 10 and 17.
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Alexander’s worstest day ever
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
THEATER REVIEW: “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day”
With a face as crinkly as a pincushion, Alexander turns his nose up at everything. First, he gets gum in his hair. Then his brothers find cool prizes in their cornflakes, while Alexander discovers nothing but … drats! … cereal. The final humiliation: His dentist pries open his mouth and discovers a cavity.
If you recognize Alexander’s predicament, you probably know he’s having a “Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day,” thanks to Judith Viorst’s story of the same name, which was made into a musical in 1998. Now the delightful tale about the universal awfulness of daily life —- told from the point of view of a hapless, accident-prone, unathletic, not-very-popular little boy —- has arrived as part of Synchronicity Performance Group’s family series.
Though “Alexander” could be punchier, sung better and told with more visual panache, it’s a welcome weekend outing that runs a quick 60 minutes and touches all the bases of Viorst’s popular 1972 children’s book. Directed by Clint Thornton and running as the kiddy counterpart to Synchronicity’s adult show, “The Sex Habits of American Women,” “Alexander” ticks along on the buoyant spirits of its nimble cast and the petulant scowl of one uncommonly expressive cast member in particular.
Greg Morris may be a recent University of Georgia graduate, but in Alexander’s pajamas, he looks all of 12, with hair the color of gingerbread and a puckery turn of lips that connotes sour lemons —- or maybe it’s grapes. This is an inspired performance, and should Morris choose, he can surely claim some of the terrain currently occupied by youthful Atlanta favorites Clifton Guterman and Chris Moses. (Casting directors, take note.)
Also good are Jacob Wood, who turns the stock part of the bespectacled nerd into a comic gem, and Dina Shadwell, whose Mrs. Dickens is the kind of schoolteacher who’s ruined the life of many a sensitive child.
In the end, this is a sweetly affecting treatment of an enduring children’s classic. Everyone has had a truly horrendous, wholly catastrophic, really disastrous, devastatingly bad day. Alexander’s trick is to makes us believe it could only happen to him.
The verdict: Worth getting out of bed on Saturday morning.
THE 411: 11:30 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. Saturdays; 2 and 4 p.m. Sundays. Through June 26. $10. Synchronicity Performance Group, 7 Stages Back Stage, 1105 Euclid Ave. N.E., Atlanta. 404-325-5168, www.synchrotheatre.com.
