THEATER REVIEW
“Homers”
Grade: C+
Through March 15. 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays; 8 p.m. Thursdays-Fridays; 4 and 8 p.m. Saturdays; 2:30 p.m. Sundays. $25-$35. Roswell Cultural Arts Center, 950 Forrest St., Roswell. 770-641-1260, www.get.org.
Bottom line: A game effort, if a bit minor league.
The heroine of “Homers” is a spunky sports reporter for a big (unnamed) Atlanta newspaper, who also happens to be an avid lifelong fan of the local sports scene. Not the least of her dilemmas in the play is figuring out how to maintain a balance, between having a personal “rooting interest” in her city’s teams and the requisite “professional distance” she needs to do her job.
A theater critic surely can relate to that. On the one hand, give Georgia Ensemble Theatre artistic director Robert J. Farley the kudos he has earned over the past few years, for devoting one production in each season to new works by Atlanta writers.
After a trilogy of shows by the prolific and popular Topher Payne (“Tokens of Affection,” “Swell Party,” “The Only Light in Reno”), Farley’s Roswell company branches out a bit further this time, enabling a comparative novice and unknown quantity like Jacob York to take his first major turn at bat with “Homers.”
Not that York is exactly a stranger to Atlanta audiences. Based solely on his track record as an agreeable actor around town (“Reasons to Be Pretty,” “A Fox on the Fairway”), it’s easy enough for fans to wish him well as a fledgling playwright and to hope for the best.
From a certain “distance,” on the other hand, director Jaclyn Hoffman’s unfocused Ensemble staging of York’s “Homers” misses more often than it hits.
As Leigh, the reporter, Diany Rodriguez fares better in her lighter moments, forming a casual rapport with the audience during several comedic monologues and asides (many of them about Atlanta’s rich sports history). But most of the character’s deeper conflicts come across as superficial melodrama in much of Rodriguez’s performance.
While Leigh struggles to make her own way in a male-dominated industry — and an otherwise beleaguered industry at that — an L.A. job offer to blog about sports for a “boutique” website couldn’t come at a worse time. Her widowed father is hospitalized following a stroke, forcing Leigh to weigh family responsibilities against her career.
Time is running out for Leigh, literally. In a video projection against a large scoreboard at the back of the set, a ticking clock counts down the seconds. In one nice touch, it also adds days or years to indicate flashback scenes.
Other stylistic or tonal shifts in the writing, however, are too poorly delineated by Hoffman. A detached cellphone conversation suddenly becomes an in-person encounter. Most ill-defined is a fantastical twist late in the play that’s devoid of any visual flourish or dramatic impact.
Frank Roberts leads the supporting cast as Leigh’s garrulous father. Rob Cleveland doesn’t have a lot to do as her editor and boss, but Jeffrey Stephenson (as the friend who’s looking to hire her) and Jennifer Lamourt (as an idolizing newspaper intern) provide adequate comic relief.
Neither a home run nor a strikeout, “Homers” covers its bases marginally, without ever actually scoring. Even so, Farley deserves some kind of an MVP award for giving it a shot.
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