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The two others in the cast prove up to these two aces, making it a true ensemble: Celia Keenan-Bolger is a delicate Laura, never overplaying her deformity and prone to staring into nothingness when she shuts down emotionally. Brian J. Smith as the Gentleman Caller is funny and warm and wonderfully lost. The action takes place on Crowley's evocative set, with a fire escape that disappears into the roof and the stage made of interlocking wooden platforms above still water, serving like islands on a sea of memory. There is plenty of music, including original pieces by Nico Muhly, who relies on violins, as the text suggests. Katz's lighting is moody and dim, like a distant remembrance, only sparkling to life when a beam hits a glass unicorn. And Hoggett has gotten his actors to enter and exit scenes in movements that are sometimes jerky or exaggerated, like watching warped film. Tom, for instance, basically falls backward into the play's opening scene, as if tumbling into the past. Another powerful moment has Laura and her mother endlessly setting the table, their hands fluttering as if in a montage of dozens of meals. Jones adds a shaky hand to hint at her increasing infirmity, justifying her worry of the future. It's all heady stuff and an alchemy that must be experienced. All the parts fit -- from the moody design to the stirring music and the push-and-pull of these characters -- and all of it breathes life into a 70-year-old play. It is, like the work itself, unforgettable.
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[Associated
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