Fool for Love
Perhaps it was the beautiful but fleeting warm summer evening that induced melancholy. As I stood on the sidewalk outside Stage Left’s semidumpy storefront facade–with its childishly bright colors splashed beneath sepulchral black roofing tiles, a hash of ill-conceived, well-intentioned design failures belittled by the well-marketed upscale Italian eatery that’s sprung up next door–I couldn’t help but feel a debilitating sadness at the impending death of Chicago theater.
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There are unmistakable signs of mortality, however, sporting such shiny coats of well-monied sparkle that they look like signs of life. Having convinced ourselves that a booming economy solves all social and cultural ills, we flock to bold, handsome displays of capital to assuage what remains of our consciences–yet this is the kind of milieu that suffocates live theater. Just as new fortresses of half-million-dollar condos spring up every week in “transitional neighborhoods,” displacing the working poor to fulfill the manifest destinies of Pottery Barn and Starbucks consumers, the Nederlander Organization and SFX Theatrical Group are throwing piles of money at “Broadway in Chicago,” glutting three Loop theaters with well-machined Broadway product masquerading as live performance. Worse, the major media have treated this deadly onslaught as a cultural renaissance, as though the off-Loop scene never existed; in her report on “Broadway in Chicago,” Channel Seven’s Theresa Gutierrez explained that when the Loop scene dried up, purportedly in the 1960s, Chicagoans were forced to go to New York to see live theater.
The play is nearly devoid of plot. Eddie and May, tortured on-again, off-again lovers for 15 years, are holed up in a western motel. Eddie never lets May forget that he drove 2,480 miles out of his way to be with her. The last time he left her, it was in a tin mobile home with a stack of fashion magazines he hoped would keep her occupied until he felt like coming back. Now that he’s found her again he’d like to dump her in the back of his pickup and take her away, but she insists she doesn’t love him anymore–despite her agonized screams every time he leaves her in the room for more than 30 seconds.
But the production’s slow pace prohibits momentum from developing. Part of the problem may have been opening-night hesitancy; given the strength of Speer’s cast, in a week or two this show may be steaming along. But paradoxically enough the problem may also stem from Speer’s deep commitment to Shepard’s work. She’s directed five of his plays for Azusa–and anyone willing to tackle his 1967 thrill ride La Turista gets a gold star on her permanent record. In Fool for Love Speer takes great care with Shepard’s words, finding comedic nuances in the most unexpected places. But at times her almost reverential approach partially plugs the emotional flood that should sweep May and Eddie along, thereby diminishing the production’s overall success.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Maggie Speer.
