THEATER
The Rise of Tennessee Williams
Live solo play traces America’s great queer playwright
BY DAVID KENNERLEY
After more than a year
of lockdown, when performances
were forced
to go online and Zoom
ruled the stage, the live theater
scene in New York is — hallelujah!
— starting to show signs of life.
What better way to dip a toe
back into theater than to see a live,
in-person, socially distanced solo
show? Head on over to The Cell
Theatre in Chelsea, where “Tennessee
Rising,” written and performed
by the abundantly gifted
Jacob Storms (“Red Oaks”), is now
on the boards. Not only does the
work focus on the formative years
of legendary American playwright
Tennessee Williams, but it’s also
directed by a living legend of sorts,
Alan Cumming.
The multi-hyphenate artist,
as any theater geek knows, fi rst
wowed Broadway audiences as the
bare-chested, oily emcee in “Cabaret,”
for which he nabbed a Tony
Award. He also starred in Bertolt
Brecht’s “The Threepenny Opera”
and a one-man adaptation of
“Macbeth,” among countless others.
Plus, he’s appeared in a slew
of fi lms and television shows, written
a couple of books, and co-owns
a cabaret in the East Village. This
production marks a rare directorial
effort.
The experience of “Tennessee
Rising” is a delight from start to
fi nish. As you pass through the
quaint 19th Century townhouse
on West 23rd Street and enter the
lush garden courtyard, it’s easy to
imagine the Pulitzer Prize-winning
Check out “Tennessee Rising” at The Cell Theatre in Chelsea
playwright might have spent time
there (he briefl y called New York
home). With a smattering of chairs
on the patio, the space feels less
like a theater than a private salon,
where Storms, as Tennessee, presides
as the amicable host. With
grace and wit, he addresses the
audience directly throughout the
proceedings, intensifying the intimacy.
“To the kindness of strangers” he
begins, raising a full glass of what
looks like bourbon. This is the fi rst
of many winking references to his
plays sprinkled throughout the
75-minute performance.
“Tennessee Rising” weaves together
stories of the playwright’s
travails and triumphs during
1939-1945, when he adopted the
nom-de-plume Tennessee (he previously
was called Tom) and struggled
to gain traction as a writer before
fi nally striking gold with “The
RIDE HAMILTON
Glass Menagerie,” the fi rst of many
hits — all against a backdrop of
the encroaching war against the
“Nazi machine.”
As for the script, Storms does a
fi ne job capturing Tennessee’s astute,
lyrical voice and balancing
biographical points with emotional
keynotes. The loose narrative begins
in a boarding house in the
French Quarter of New Orleans,
where he describes the thrill of
winning prize money from an eminent
New York theater company,
then shifts to a trip to LA and the
thriving artist colony at Laguna
Beach. Alas, his travel companion,
Jim, does not fully return his affections.
Although Tennessee is relieved
to escape the clutches of his mother
in St. Louis, he often battles
melancholy, where his only salvation
is his typewriter. Much of his
existence is plagued by self-doubt,
yet he soldiers on. “I cannot give
up. I have always made a religion
of endurance” he says, recalling
his bout with diptheria at age
six which hindered him for many
months.
In Taos, New Mexico he meets
DH Lawrence’s wife, Frieda, and
soaks in the creative energy. When
he fi rst visits New York, he is mesmerized
by the Broadway marquees
blazing with George Gershwin’s
“Porgy and Bess” and Mae
West’s “Diamond Lil.” In Provincetown
he has a steamy love affair
with young Adonis, who jilts him
for a woman and breaks his heart.
Naturally, his musings veer to
his puritanical mother and his
dear sister, Rose, who suffered
from schizophrenia and eventually
had a frontal lobotomy. The solace
Rose gained from her collection of
glass animals, and their mother’s
insistence that she receive gentlemen
callers, were details later folded
into “The Glass Menagerie.”
Under the guidance of Cummings,
the exceedingly appealing
Storms, who bears more than a
passing resemblance to the premustached
Tennessee at age 28,
embodies the playwright with an
intoxicating blend of charm and
vulnerability. His lilting southern
drawl is pitch perfect.
This is a bare bones production
where character takes priority.
The set consists only of a tiny
table with an ancient Corona typewriter
and a couple of ornate metal
chairs. While there is no lighting to
speak of, there is a bit of well-timed
sound design to help establish the
mood.
And if you’re nervous about encountering
a cloud of COVID, you
can rest easy. In addition to the outdoor
setting, attendance is strictly
limited to 18 people, strategically
spaced apart. Masks are mandatory
and theatergoers must undergo
a digital temperature check.
Not that open-air theater is completely
immune to risk. On the
evening I attended, wailing sirens
intruded at inopportune moments.
The divebombing sparrows were
clearly not interested in following
stage direction. And, thanks to a
sudden breeze-burst, the exquisite
cherry tree released its gentle
shower of blossoms. But this glorious
spectacle occurred randomly
near the top of the show, not the
climax.
TENNESSEE RISING: THE
DAWN OF TENNESSEE WILLIAMS
| The Cell Theatre | 338 W.
23 St. | May 9 and 23 at 6 p.m.;
June 6, 13, 20, 27 at 7 p.m. | $20 |
SpinCycleNYC.com | 75 mins. with
no intermission
MAY 6 - MAY 19, 2 34 021 | GayCityNews.com
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