The cast of Slow Burn Theater Company’s Come From Away (Photos by Larry Marano)
By Bill Hirschman
These are troubling times infected with angst and anxiety. We look across the street and wonder what, if anything, we still have in common. Are we all still, underneath it all, fellow human beings graced with compassion and a commitment to interdependency?
But the never-fail elixir is to attend nearly any production of the musical Come From Away, one of the most life-affirming piece of theater of the past decade.
Slow Burn Theater Company’s current gift to audiences earns its place on that roll.
If you haven’t seen it before (all 14 of you) it is an experience to seek out.
If you have seen it, trust this critic who has seen it at least four times, Slow Burn’s edition is as fresh and vivifying as the first time you saw it.
The reason this piece always lands so deeply may be that is like a prayer being answered, reassuring us of the inherent goodness in us all. The apt word is uplifting, a word you don’t often hear in connection with theater or film or television.
Briefly, for the aforementioned 14, small towns in Newfoundland gather together to house, feed, even clothe 7,000 airline passengers on Sept. 11 when 38 planes are forced to land because American airspace has been closed. The extent and depth of their reaching out and support was a tribute to the laudable element of human nature. The main town is Gander, but they joined with other neighboring towns.
While the evening is punctuated with wit and joy, the work fully acknowledges the fear and profound uncertainty everyone struggled with. After the visitors leave, the Canadians see their everyday world return to normal, wondering if anything has changed. But indeed, it has and the final scenes are an assurance.
The 2017 musical seems to be produced somewhere in the world 365 days a year because it proudly honors a sense of community, not just among these Canadian neighbors, but without a shred of saccharine sentimentality that we are all a part of the same community.
This vibrant cast of 12 depict perhaps two-score specific recognizable characters underscoring that a community is still composed of individuals. Helmed by Patrick Fitzwater, every single person throws themselves completely into every moment of this intermissionless hour and thirty minutes. Most of the time, an urgent heart pulse drives the journey.
Over and over, an actor spins on the proverbial dime to transform from one clearly identifiable character into another and then to another. For instance (and there are a score of these) Lee Hollis Bussie can turn from being a gay passenger Kevin, traveler with his partner also named Kevin, then to Ali, an Egyptian chef, then to one of the Newfoundlanders.
The logistics are one cut shy of overwhelming. Actors and chairs seamlessly swirl around in intricacies that make you wonder how anyone doesn’t bump into each other. The licensing agency did provide documents suggesting staging, choreography and other elements adapted from the original production. But Fitzpatrick used them as a base from which to embellish and create his own edition.
And then there’s the music led by music director Allan Paglia, alternately joyful, contemplative, soaring and when the company collaborates, a vocal tidal wave that almost physically lifts the audience.
The cast: Irene Adjan as a Texas divorcée; Lee Hollis Bussie as one of the Kevins; Kareema Khouri as Hannah, a woman desperately trying to find out whether her firefighter son is alive at the World Trade Center; Matthew W. Korinko as the mayor of Gander and then other cities; Justin Anthony Long as the other Kevin; Kristi Rose Mills as an eager, green local TV reporter on her first day; Michael Dean Morgan as a British oil engineer; Justin Phillips as a jaded, suspicious New Yorker whose outlook is changed by the town’s radical hospitality; Brennan Stefanik as Oz the constable, Laura Turnbull as the head of a non-profit, and Kimberley Doreen Burns, one of first women to be a commercial airline pilot. All of them double and triple as passengers and townspeople.
Special note: On opening night only, veteran actress Lindsey Corey had to miss the key role of Bonnie, the head of the SPCA who rescues animals trapped on the planes. She was subbed by Heather Simsay who had played the role elsewhere but only had three hours to get back in the swing — acting, singing and dancing as if she had been doing this insanely complicated and coordinated part for weeks. Keep in mind that she had to be prepared to sub for five other roles as well. Brava!
A nod is due dialect coach Michael Dean Morgan who helps the cast with a United Nations of accents from a Newfoundlander’s enunciation to a slight Texas drawl to a British Queen’s English.
Kareema Khouri
While the cast’s unity virtually defines the term ensemble, every single actor has well-earned moments in the spotlight. Among the ones that stay after the curtain falls were Khouri’s anguished concern for her son, singing “I Am Here.” And although Burns nearly disappears as she should in the ensemble, when she plays the airline pilot Beverley, her soaring delivery of “Me and the Sky” may be the best version I have heard.
Visually and aurally, the production values are stunning. Start with Nikolas Serrano’s scenic environment: a wooded glade topped by a collage of autumn-tinged arbors. Acknowledge the scores and scores of environments created by lighting designer Eric Norbury and sound chief Dan Donato, plus Rick Péna’s character specific costumes that are altered with the addition of a hat or a coat.
Keeping this impossibly intricate show running seamlessly is Production Stage Manager Amy Rauchwerger and assistant Jolie Rubinchik, dealing with, among other things, approximately 500 lighting cues and 300 sound cues.
Finally, a standing ovation is due the band headed by Allan Paglia and his piano plus Pablo Camacho, bass; Chris Vallone, guitar; Alejandro Storper, mandolin; Julie Jacobs, percussion; Frank Capoferri, whistles; Liubov Ohrimenco, fiddle, and Roy Fantel on the drums, bodhran and on stage playing the legendary Ugly Stick.
Note to Slow Burn management: I know programs can be expensive, but the type size this time is so small, you need a magnifying glass to read it.
Come From Away through Oct. 25 from Slow Burn Theatre Co. performing at the Amaturo Theater at Broward Center for the Performing Arts, 201 SW Fifth Ave., Fort Lauderdale. Performances 7:45 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday; 2 p.m. Sunday, 1 p.m. Saturday. Running time 1 hour, 30 minutes with no intermission. Single tickets $91-$101; groups of 10 or more save 10 percent. Student and teacher rush start at $30 and are available at the window day of show based on availability while supplies last. Call 954-462-0222 for tickets, at www.browardcenter.org or in person at the Broward Center’s Auto Nation Box Office. Info at www.slowburntheatre.org
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