THEATER
Storytime’s Language and Symbols
The spoken word proves more potent than pictures
BY CHRISTOPHER BYRNE
If the relationships between
parents and children weren’t
complicated — and if the stories
about them weren’t so often
told — we could get rid of a significant
portion of world literature.
When such a tale is told with force,
originality, and lyricism by novelist
Elizabeth Strout, it is riveting and
deeply moving.
Strout’s 2016, first-person novel,
“My Name is Lucy Barton,”
has been adapted for the stage by
Rona Munro, and it is a spectacular
90-minute solo show starring
Laura Linney in a luminous and
unforgettable performance.
The story is a simple one. Lucy is
looking back at events in her life as
it is thrown into chaos by an infection
that leaves her hospitalized for
nine weeks. Her mother, who has
never been on a plane before, flies
to New York from rural Illinois to
be with her. In the course of their
time together, we learn about Lucy’s
abusive childhood, her desire
to become a writer, and her eventual
escape to New York where she
builds her own — happier for a
time — family. Lucy’s mother is a
plain-spoken, even abrasive woman
whose hard expression masks a
discomfort with authentic emotion
yet who is clearly doing her best,
even if the effect is often prickly.
Perhaps most telling about their
relationship is the moment when
Lucy’s mother observes that Lucy
wanted a different life… and just
went out and got it. The combination
of admiration and resentment
is both honest and quietly theatrical.
As the piece unfolds, we learn
that Lucy’s journey is far from over
and that she has indeed acquired
some of her mother’s clear-eyed
view of the world. The lesson in
this is that we must never discount
how our past has shaped us and
that no matter how hard we try the
influence of our parents is indelible.
Playwright Munro has, wisely,
preserved much of Strout’s language
and elegantly integrated moments
of Lucy and of her mother.
Laura Linney in “My Name is Lucy Barton,” Rona Munro’s adaptation of the novel by Elizabeth Strout, at
the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre through February 29.
Laura Linney in “My Name is Lucy Barton,” Rona Munro’s adaptation of the novel by Elizabeth Strout, at
the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre through February 29.
Linney is simply a marvel, seamlessly
moving between mother
and daughter in the telling of the
story. Under the savvy direction
of Richard Eyre, her performance
is often beautifully understated,
despite the outsized characterization
of the mother, which draws
the audience in and leaves them
hanging on every detail. While the
one-person show is an unforgiving
form that can seem stilted, here
the combination of Linney’s generous
performance and Strout’s language
is virtually perfect.
The scenic design by Bob Crowley
and video design by Luke Halls
MATTHEW MURPHY
MATTHEW MURPHY
are ideal in illuminating beautifully
this world of language and character.
When they are as beautifully
presented as this, literature’s ageold
themes can still be original and
exciting.
“The Woman in Black” is the
kind of horror story kids read
by flashlight under the covers.
Though Susan Hill’s original novel
was written in 1983, its setting
is an Edwardian remote English
village, and it’s deliciously formulaic
fun, full of twists and turns.
Eager to put past trauma to rest,
solicitor Arthur Kipps has hired a
character known only as The Actor
to help him tell the story to his
close friends and family. The Actor
takes Kipps’ manuscript, which he
says would take five hours to get
through by the heft of it, and turns
the plodding, pedestrian prose
into a sharp, thriller. The story
recounts what happened when a
much younger Kipps was sent to
the sequestered Eel Marsh House
to settle the estate of Alice Drablow.
Tragedies have occurred in the
past, and the specter of a Woman
in Black is said to appear at different
times, predicting another tragedy.
To say any more would ruin
the chills and surprises, which are
plentiful. Suffice it to say that the
audience jumps and screams at all
the right places.
Stephen Mallatratt’s adaptation
of the novel is pointed and wellcrafted,
and under the direction
of Robin Herford the storytelling
is vibrant and loads of fun. It’s no
surprise that the original London
production has been running for
more than 30 years. The two performers
take on all the characters,
and the simplicity of the staging is
part of the charm. In this mounting,
David Acton as Kipps and Ben
Porter as The Actor are both top
notch. The piece is firmly based in
the British Christmas tradition of
telling ghost stories. That, in fact,
is part of the set-up. Christmas has
passed, but this production, staged
in a pub room at the McKittrick
Hotel, feels informal and friendly,
an appropriate setting for a midwinter
ghost story.
The new musical “Emojiland”
is not about language.
It is about emojis, those pictures
that we use for quick communication
when actual words seem like
too much effort. As a result, this
disjointed, shallow show makes
Saturday morning cartoons seem
like Strindberg. Yet “Emojiland” is
surprisingly entertaining, thanks
in large part to its good nature, its
ability to revel in its own superficiality,
and a cast that is brimming
➤ EMOJILAND, continued on p.27
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