Review: COME FROM AWAY Humanizes Tragedy at Front Porch Theatricals

Everybody's got their 9/11 story, and mine unexpectedly rushed back at me during Front Porch's production of Come from Away. There's a moment in the first half where one of the characters finds himself remembering the Prayer of Saint Francis (which the pedant and Catholic-middle-school graduate in me always insists on pointing out is neither about Saint Francis nor written by him, but is just piggybacking on his reputation as one of the good guys). He sings it to himself, and other characters join in, first joining the hymn and then others joining with prayers or mantras from other world religions. On the Tuesday when it all went down, twenty-five years ago, one of the last things we did as a school before being dismissed was singing the same Prayer of Saint Francis over the loudspeaker. I'd totally forgotten that moment until seeing this show, and suddenly I was back in my little metal chair at Aquinas Academy again. Memory is weird like that.

There are shows you go to knowing you're going to get a new take and some wild directorial swings, and other shows that you know what you're going to get more or less out of the box. Come from Away is one of those shows that must, to some extent, direct itself: it's a machine of dozens and dozens of tiny moving pieces which relies on directors and choreographers to keep it oiled and moving, and then stay out of its way. This is a harder task than it sounds, because anyone who's ever ordered something from Ikea will let you know that just following the instructions is NEVER simple. Thankfully, director Aaron Galligan-Stierle and choreographer Mandie Patsy approach this material not with slavish reverence or a desire to recreate anything, but with an understanding of the show, its style and the physical and directorial needs of docudrama and story theatre. The show may be a well-oiled machine, but it never once feels mechanical.

Told over approximately a week in 2001, give or take some flashbacks, the story documents the famous "plane people" of Gander, Newfoundland, who were forced to take refuge in the small town when all flights were grounded after the attacks on 9/11. The cast rapidly cycle in and out of multiple roles, with most cast members playing two featured roles and a handful of cameos and ensemble. Almost all changes take place onstage in real time, with a shuffling of hats, coats and body language to distinguish these multiple roles. There are no leads per se, but the central narratorial roles fall to Marc Moritz as the cantankerous mayor of Gander (and the mayors of all the other local towns), and Caroline Travers as local newscaster Janice. Their characters don't interact often, but they serve as stylistic foils, with Moritz's cranky stubbornness gradually melting into sympathetic warmth as Travers's first day jitters grow into confidence and purpose. 

Surrounding them are the supporting cast, many of whom are Front Porch regulars. Stefan Lingenfelter, who played a sleazy and sinister businessman in Working earlier this summer, turns around that persona to play a fish-out-of-water, adorably overwhelmed British businessman in the Hugh Grant fashion. DREW LEIGH WILLIAMS brings great warmth to everywoman Beverley, and Mandie Patsy (doing double duty as choreographer) finds the very delicate line between comedy and tragedy in the role of SPCA enthusiast Bonnie, who sets out on a one-woman crusade to save all the animals on the grounded planes. In a very interesting theatrical pairing, Shawn Doremus embodies the two dissenting voices among the general cameraderie and up-with-people attitude of the piece: gay American Kevin J, who can't bring himself to feel at home in Gander and among these people, and Egyptian Muslim Ali, whose gentleness and eagerness to help is not enough to spare him from the sudden rush of Islamophobia. There's comic relief in Ali's experience with Newfie cuisine, but in both roles, Doremus radiates a quiet sadness that tempers the rest of the show in a dramaturgically useful way.

Because that's the thing of it- this is an EXTREMELY feel-good story. It has moments of sadness, and moments that remind YOU to be sad, but the "plane people of Gander" incident is one of the best-known and most-recalled stories of people coming together to be good to each other. If you're a certain type of person (I know I am one), you default to cynicism, sometimes even to nihilism. This is a no-good world full of no-good people, and it can stick in your craw when you have an evening of uninterrupted "look, look, human decency and goodness, gays and lumberjacks and executives are kissing a giant fish together!" This is, after all, a show about an incident in which a LOT of people died and a country lost the last of its innocence. Luckily, Come from Away, especially in Galligan-Stierle's hands, is inspiring, not "inspirational." The twee is there because it's Newfoundland, and Newfoundland is inherently twee. But this is no Hallmark Channel 9/11 special- the darkness, the tragedy and the questioning get to live side by side with the hope, the love and the kindness. And maybe, just maybe, we need the sunshine as much as we need the grouchiness these days. When's the last time YOU saw people going out of their way to do good without being prompted? And if you can't answer, that's YOUR prompt to go out and do it yourself. But first, see Come from Away at Front Porch... because now that the rights are released, EVERY theater you've ever been to and some that you haven't are going to be producing this show. You only get one first impression with a piece like this... make it a good one. At Front Porch, it's ALWAYS a good one.

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