SHEPHERDSTOWN, W.Va. - Secrets are being exposed and tough moral choices hashed over on stage at this summer's Contemporary American Theater Festival.
Now in its 12th year, this annual summer showcase of new and recent plays is located in one of America's most verdant spots - the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. But Shepherdstown is also cheek-by-jowl to the battlefields that saw some of the bloodiest combat in the Civil War.
The contrast between beauty and bloodshed is typified by the four plays that make up the current season. You may come to this year's festival to be entertained by the skillful artistry of the productions (and you won't be disappointed). But you will leave mulling over thorny ethical issues that range from the personal (adulterous love in Craig Wright's Orange Flower Water) to the political (genocide in Catherine Filloux's Silence of God).
A strong but equally wide-ranging male sensibility colors most of the selections - from Lee Blessing's examination of closeted homosexuality in Thief River to Sam Shepard's return to his familiar territory of violence, alcoholism and father-son feuds in The Late Henry Moss.
Though there isn't a clear standout, all four shows are stimulating. Shepard's new work - while not flawless - is the slickest. Part of its polish may be due to the fact that it's already been produced on both coasts (with casts that boasted such high-profile stars as Sean Penn, Nick Nolte and Ethan Hawke).
As this production history suggests, festival producing director Ed Herendeen has a loose interpretation of the phrase "new play." He recognizes that while many theaters like the prestige of producing a premiere, there's often less incentive to mount a second or third production.
That's not a problem with a writer of Shepard's stature. He's the biggest name ever produced here - a distinction that could lead audiences to expect similarly big things. Instead, we get a reiteration of such typical Shepard themes as sibling rivalry, toxic family history and the need to confront the past, as well as the type of hard-drinking, unstable characters who populate such Shepard chestnuts as True West and Buried Child.
Under Herendeen's athletic direction, Kevin Carrigan and Paul Sparks portray belligerent, estranged brothers Earl and Ray Moss, who are brought together by the recent death of their father, Henry (Michael Goodwin). Neither brother is a brain trust, but Ray is shrewd enough to suspect that Earl, who arrived at their father's house first, isn't telling the full story about the old man's death.
While this grants the play a strong element of mystery, it shouldn't take three often-repetitive acts for the mystery to be solved. Nor does it help that Goodwin's Henry, who's seen in flashbacks, comes across as too meek to have ever been a mean, abusive drunk.
Although Sparks delivers a frighteningly fierce portrayal of bullying Ray, the most intriguing character is the sole female - Henry's young Mexican girlfriend, Conchalla, who taunted the old coot by insisting he was dead. Sylvia Roldan Dohi portrays Conchalla with enormous brio and a touch of mysticism. A cross between a raucous good-time girl and the angel of death, Conchalla recognizes that a man can be dead in spirit long before he's dead in body - and that, essentially, is Shepard's point.
Examining love
The hit of last year's festival was Wright's The Pavilion (which will be produced at Everyman Theatre in May). Orange Flower Water continues the playwright's series set in the fictitious town of Pine City, Minn.
Love and romantic mistakes are at the heart of both plays, but the new script lacks the lyricism and bold theatricality of its predecessor. And, though deftly crafted and performed, it also fails to deliver fresh insights on the destructive shrapnel of adultery or the impact of divorce.
Jason Field's David and Libby West's Beth have fallen in love and decided to marry, even though their marriage will rip apart their two existing families. Director Leah C. Gardiner and set design Markas Henry situate the action on and around a centrally located bed. When not actively involved in a scene, the play's four actors sit or stand in the corners of the stage, an effective way of indicating that what goes on in this bedroom affects those outside it. In addition, most of the scenes involve only two actors at a time, a logical choice for a play about couples.
But whether or not the playwright intended it, what's unspoken proves more powerful than anything the characters say or do. David and Beth may insist that their first marriages were a mistake, but at least in this production, it's obvious that they belong with their original spouses (Mercedes Herrero as David's smart, bossy wife, and Sparks as Beth's loutish but devoted husband).
In other words, David and Beth aren't making the same mistake all over again, they're making a worse mistake - a realization that haunts the tender sentiment Wright tacks on.
Seeking acceptance
Blessing's Thief River is replete with secrets and the promise of thoughtful character development. Unfortunately, this seasoned playwright (best known for A Walk in the Woods) muddies River's waters with a jumbled chronology that defies logic and produces more confusion than enlightenment.
This confusion is increased by the fact that, at different stages in their lives, each of the two protagonists is depicted by three actors, who also play all the supporting characters.
The story underlying this fancy casting concerns Ray and Gil, two men who fall in love at age 18 in 1940s rural Minnesota, where homosexuality is not only frowned upon, but also violently opposed.
Essentially run out of town, Gil does time at the workhouse, then moves to the Twin Cities, where he lives openly as a gay man. Ray, however, closets himself so deeply, he marries, sires a son and is elected mayor of the same bigoted burg that ostracized Gil.
Like Shepard, Blessing is saying that you can't escape your past or your true nature. To accentuate this, he sets the play in an empty, abandoned farmhouse, a metaphor for all that is unfulfilled and unspoken in the two men's lives.
Director Herendeen is unable to cut through the script's bewildering structure and actually exacerbates the problem by casting actors who bear little resemblance to each other, in terms of appearance or behavior. (Ashley Ivey, however, should be singled out for his achingly tender portrayal of young Gil.)
The choppy nature of the script ultimately turns out to be the characters' worst enemy. The difficulty of determining who's who and what's what at any given time not only detracts from the characters' growth, but also blunts our appreciation of their eventual acceptance and understanding.
Political arena
Filloux, whose previous Shepherdstown play, Mary and Myra, was about Mary Todd Lincoln, returns to the political arena with Silence of God. This time, her focus is Cambodia and its late murderous leader, Pol Pot.
A foreign correspondent named Sarah (earnestly played by Herrero) lands an interview with the former Khmer Rouge leader and subsequently learns of an American plan to capture him and put him on trial; publishing this information could jeopardize the plan.
There's a surrealistic edge to director Jean Randich's production that enhances the exoticism of Cambodian culture, but also undercuts the menace and danger. Ron Nakahara, for example, plays both Pol Pot (disturbingly depicted as an almost comic figure) and Sarah's lover, a Cambodian poet. If this double-casting is intended to suggest that there's evil residing in even the gentlest souls, it's a serious case of overstatement.
And there are other shortcomings. It's unclear whether Sarah's decision to publish is based on principle or on a desire to further her career. There's little apparent chemistry between Herroro's Sarah and Nakahara as the Cambodian poet (though it's difficult to tell whether this is a shortcoming of the script or the production). Most significantly, Sarah's central quest in Cambodia - to discover "why evil flourishes" - is vague and simplistic.
Even so, in the final scene, she claims to have found the answer. The audience, however, remains in the dark.
Theater
What: Contemporary American Theater Festival
Where: Shepherd College, Shepherdstown, W.Va., about 80 miles west of Baltimore. From the city, take I-70 West to 340 West (at Frederick) to 230 North.
When: In repertory Wednesdays through Sundays; through Aug. 4
Tickets: $20 and $25
Call: 800-999-2283 or visit www.catf.org for show times