BWW Reviews: Baillie, Leukus Dazzle With TALLEY'S FOLLY at Open Stage

Lanford Wilson has been described as a worthy successor to his friend Tennessee Williams, and many of his dramas, full of Midwestern families and their issues, fall well into the Williams, and sometimes Faulkner genre. TALLEY'S FOLLY, on the other hand, which brought Wilson a Pulitzer and a Tony nomination, is neither Williams nor Faulkner; it is very much its own thing, and, as a romantic comedy if sorts, is completely unlike the play which it prequels, FIFTH OF JULY.

It is a play where, in many ways, "nothing happens," yet indeed everything happens. It is comedy of the barest and most traditional sort, in which comedy equates to "happy ending," not a running collection of riotous jokes or sight gags, in no way a farce. And it takes place when done properly on the barest of sets, with porch rails, some steps, and a bit of old clutter creating the impression of a Victorian boathouse built a bit too ornately, a true Victorian "folly." It is at this folly on the Talley property that the show takes place, and it is at this folly that Sally Talley, a middle-aged, upper-middle-class, woman, proceeds to commit what she sees as her own follies.

At Open Stage of Harrisburg, in the hands of director Donald Alsedek and cast members Anthony M.C. Leukus and Trish Baillie, the folly, and Sally's (Baillie's) own follies, create a charming evening of romantic discovery between two people who already know each other. Although each thinks they know the other too well, it turns out that neither previously knew the other well enough.

Sally, a local smalltown nurse, and Matt Friedman (Leukus), an urban accountant, she a nominal Protestant native, he a Jewish immigrant, met the previous summer while he was visiting the area to vacation, and she nursing injured military men - like much of Wilson's work, the show is an indictment of war and its effects, in which Matt, financially savvy, is able to detail how war has become an economic tool. But his insights about the war and the world, her musings on families and family business, and their tapdance of small talk are all secondary to Matt's pursuit of a reticent Sally. Is he too urban (Saint Louis)? Too immigrant? Too Jewish, too old, too aggressive, too determined not to take no for an answer? Is Sally too weary, too arrogant, too particular, too set in her spinsterish ways? Matt is determined to take Sally any way he can get her; Sally is determined to send Matt back to Saint Louis as fast as she can.

Baillie's Sally is alternately career woman and child of her family, hard and soft, no-nonsense and all ears, coming out swinging and dancing backwards at an approach. She is a marvel of ambivalence, still interested in her flame from the previous summer and afraid of a relationship. Leukus gives Matt an equal ambivalence, determination to capture his prize alternating with a monumental fear of rejection. Between the two, the dance is more slow Viennese waltz than Paso Doble, with an audience captivated by the questions of whether the two can ever resolve their apparent total incompatibility, whether each is far too constrained by their family backgrounds and social circumstances, and whether both Sally and Matt are hindered in any relationships they might pursue by the personal secrets each harbors. It's a delight to see their dance play out on stage.

Since it's a romantic comedy, one might well guess the answers: love wins in the end, even when people are loath to admit they're in love at all. It might appear from the script that Matt is pushing Sally too hard when she really wants him gone, but Baillie and Leukus, both Open Stage veterans, give their characters enough personality, enough reality, for an audience to see past dialogue and to realize that Sally's protestations are bluster covering her true feelings, and that Matt is not arrogant or demanding, but frankly terrified that Sally will indeed send him away.

The play is sweet, much in the way that a Vidalia onion is sweet. It is not overly sweet, but balanced nicely by its bitter moments and its pungent ones, and it becomes more complex as Sally and Matt work at peeling away each other's outer skins and then each succeeding layer. It's only when each is fully exposed at the core and can see that the other appreciates the core as much as the outer trappings that matters finally resolve, and it's entertaining to see those layers being peeled away.

From Matt's announcement on an otherwise empty stage that the entire story can be told in 97 minutes (there's no intermission for this relatively short show) to the show's auspicious conclusion, Leukus and Baillie transport the audience to a warm night on a riverbank with a band playing music on the other side, with two people listening to music and learning to understand each other and their personal truths... with a few detours for some bickering along the way. They and their characters are great fun to watch, especially as Sally struggles not to have any chemistry with Matt. It's some of Wilson's most charming writing, with his own detours here and there, much as the river itself turns along the way, to deliver a few truths about the world in which Matt and Sally live.

Kudos, incidentally, to Eric Berninghausen for a lovely set, including the riverbank, and to lighting designer Tristan Strasilius for effects including reflections of rippling water casting themselves on the wood, one of the most pleasant sights along any shoreline.

It's a classic that deserves to be seen (and heard), and Leukus and Baillie are a marvelous cast to see perform it. Unfortunately, it's only on stage until May 3, so that needs to be done promptly. Call 717-232-OPEN or visit www.openstagehbg.com.