The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore
The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore' Superb at Hartford Stage
By SUSAN HOOD
Special To The Courant
May 23, 2008
<a href="http://ad.doubleclick.net/jump/trb.courant/ent/stage/reviews;rs=10009;rs=10013;rs=10025;rs=10026;rs=10043;rs=10044;rs=10045;rs=10049;rs=10055;rs=50026;ptype=ps;slug=hc-milkrevartmay23;rg=ur;ref=courantcom;pos=1;sz=300x250;tile=1;ord=17788560?" target="_blank"><img src="http://ad.doubleclick.net/ad/trb.courant/ent/stage/reviews;rs=10009;rs=10013;rs=10025;rs=10026;rs=10043;rs=10044;rs=10045;rs=10049;rs=10055;rs=50026;ptype=ps;slug=hc-milkrevartmay23;rg=ur;ref=courantcom;pos=1;dcopt=ist;sz=300x250;tile=1;ord=17788560?" width="300" height="250" border="0" alt=""></a>"The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore," which opened Wednesday at Hartford Stage, is the last production in a 10-year Tennessee Williams "marathon" undertaken by the theater's artistic director, Michael Wilson.
Surely it cannot be the last Tennessee Williams play for Wilson to stage in Hartford.
Freely I admit a bias: Williams' unique voice, poetic language and creative ambition stir me. Witnessing Wilson's direction, so sensitive to the playwright's cadence while reveling in his comedic sensibility, always renews my appreciation of both these theater artists.
Some New Englanders have not cottoned to Williams, nor to the overtly emotional and romantic literary genre of American Southern Gothic with which he was proudly associated. That's a pity, for the source and subjects of the Southern Gothic stylists did not arise from social, philosophical or artistic movements that heavily influenced their European contemporaries; instead they sprung from a varied and rich Southern oral tradition of "bigger than life" tales, in which angelic, demonic, erotic and deathly forces were at work.
Furthermore, Williams' knowledge of surrealism, existentialism, symbolism and other modern European styles gave him a sturdy platform for comparing his work and that of American peers with work by continental experimental authors.
Nearly all these forces and styles merge harmoniously in "The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore."
This play stands apart from others by Williams in one regard: The central character of Mrs. Goforth is ever so slightly inspired by his friend, the irrepressible, hedonistic heiress and arts patron Peggy Guggenheim, a New Yorker who lived much of her life in Venice. After several divorces, she styled herself as Mrs. Guggenheim, although the surname was her maiden name. The four-times-widowed and wealthy Mrs. Goforth likely has retained her maiden name, too, although she hails from Atlanta, not New York.
Guggenheim wrote, "Love was the one thing I needed in order to live," and she recounted her marriages and many amorous affairs in the first volume of her memoirs, published in 1946. As she grew older, her men became younger. Similarly, the fictional Goforth is mindful of publisher's deadlines as she dictates frank recollections of her husbands and life amid "the brilliant social history of two continents" at her villa perched high above the coast of Italy.
Her last marriage was to a poet barely in his 20s. When 42-year-old Chris Flanders arrives at her villa, she observes him from afar, speaking openly about her sexual interest in him: "OK, old girl, let's give it another whirl!"
Flanders happens to make mobiles, one of several sculptural forms indelibly associated with Alexander Calder, whose works Guggenheim collected. (She commissioned a hammered silver bedhead from him in the 1940s.)
Williams denied the connection between the Mrs. Gs, writing, "the lady is sort of a composite of various vampires I have known, but not Peggy." True, Guggenheim was no vampire.
Michael Wilson loves Tennessee Williams' women of indomitable spirit, and the aptly named Mrs. Goforth is among them. She is also the wittiest character in "Milk Train."
Olympia Dukakis gives a riveting and mostly comic performance as this imperious, flamboyant and lusty old woman who wishes to deny death's quickening approach. Her wise deadpan delivery of numerous bon mots, for instance, "Hey samurai, bonsai," elicit joyous laughter, as does her hilarious impersonation of a Kabuki dancer, staged by movement director Peter Pucci. There are poignant moments when her assertive life force is vastly diminished by fear, physical pain and narcotic-induced bewilderment.
Blackie, Goforth's nickname for her Vassar-schooled young secretary, Frances Black, is tormented by complicated feelings toward her employer. She is played with appropriately cool poise - for self-protection - by Maggie Lacey. As delicately built and long-limbed as a ballet dancer, she moves with a natural, graceful confidence equal to her lovely voice.
The Witch of Capri, also addressed as Connie, Mrs. Ridgeway and the Marchesa Condotti, is a splendidly wry, forthright yet comedic role for Judith Roberts, whose entrance is heard first: a high-pitched, tremulous and drawn-out "yoo-hoo!" Half listening to "Sissy" Goforth, she pours herself another cocktail, saying, "Liquor improves my concentration." She imparts gossip about Sissy's newly arrived guest, Chris Flanders, known for being "just a step or two ahead of the undertaker" when he appears at the side of an old lady, so is known as "The Angel of Death." She also confronts Chris one-on-one, but he is unperturbed by her allegations.
Kevin Anderson has the tough role of Chris Flanders, a middle-aged man wandering through a world of lonely, wealthy old women. Has Flanders' reputation been tarnished unfairly? If he is the "Angel of Death," why is he attracted to Blackie? How innocent are his intentions toward old ladies? Flanders has the most restrictive monologues in terms of vocabulary and theme, but he is a man of little accomplishment or realization among self-invented or strong-willed women. He does have very funny scenes in which Mrs. Goforth is purposely withholding food, and he's been without food for days. Anderson will fast grow into this part that requires a chameleon's coloration.
The servants Giulio and Simonetta are fetchingly done by Curtis Billings and Amanda Tudor.
The atmospheric set of muted sage, pink and cream against a background of rocky crags and azure sky is designed by Jeff Cowie, who also provides three sheer curtains upstage through which an occasional monologue or action is viewed.
David Woolard's costume design is divinely melodramatic for Mrs. Goforth and Marchesa Condotti. The effective lighting and sound design are by Rui Rita and John Gromada, respectively.
THE MILK TRAIN DOESN'T STOP HERE ANYMORE runs at Hartford Stage, 50 Church St., through June 15. Evening performances are Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Sundays at 7:30 and Fridays and Saturdays at 8. Matinee performances are Sundays and selected Wednesdays and Saturdays at 2. Tickets are $23 to $64, with discounts available. Tickets and information: 860-527-5151 or www.hartfordstage.org.Copyright © 2008, The Hartford Courant
"[Michael] Wilson has found a vivid Flora "Sissy" Goforth in Olympia Dukakis. She's tenacious, voracious and resilient as she wages a losing war against time -- and death.
— Variety
Read Full ArticleOlympia takes grand trip on 'Milk Train'
By Joanne Greco Rochman Republican-American
Olympia Dukakis delivers an extraordinary performance at Hartford Stage in Tennessee Williams' "The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore." Playing the filthy rich, once beautiful, and now nasty Mrs. Goforth, Dukakis spews lines at the other characters on stage, creating such a commanding and volatile force that even death hesitates with his approach and awaits Goforth's okay.
This Williams' play was not considered one of his best when it first opened on Broadway in 1963. It played to mixed reviews. Williams himself felt that he perhaps created too ambiguous a character in Christopher Flanders. Watching it now, it's impossible not to appreciate the character he literally brought to life in Mrs. Goforth. Of course, the name is symbolic and probably referred to Williams' need to move forward in his own life, especially with the impending death of his partner, Frank Merlo.
Even though the "Milk Train." was considered Williams' first big failure after a steady storm of successes, Michael Wilson's decision to go with it is nothing short of brilliant. Not only is he marking the tenth year of Williams' plays with this production,(please don't let the end of the marathon mark the end of Williams' plays at Hartford Stage) but he's revisiting a play that suddenly looks better than ever. Yes, Dukakis is fabulous. She growls, she devours, and she's funny. She's also amazingly versatile as she dresses and dances Kabuki fashion. However her memorable performance and that of Kevin Anderson who plays Christopher Flanders, with a delicate balance of compassion and indifference are not the only reasons why this play looks better, now.
As Williams wrote it, Chris, called the Angel of Death, is neither good nor bad. He is a stranger who offers kindness to elderly dying women. A minor poet, and a not-so-great artist who makes mobiles, he is also a gigolo with pride. Therefore he does not kiss Mrs. Goforth for a cigarette, even though she demands it. The two characters are combating forces — life versus death, poverty over wealth, love against time.
Still, keeping an air of mystery about Chris (with the Christ-like name) makes the character more fascinating. We want to know where he is coming from. Is he really comforting and helping old women afraid to die? Or is he a greedy gigolo trying to get whatever he can by preying on dying old ladies? The answers to these questions are not clearly spelled out in this play. Those unanswered questions add to the production more than detract from it. If Chris was all bad or all good, would the play be enhanced? No. He wears the heavy cloak of mystery well, defying us to classify him. He is as attentive to old women as he is honest. When Goforth lies dying, he does offer her calm.
In the middle of the battling between Goforth and Chris is the refined, educated Blackie, the young widow from Vassar who transcribes Mrs. Goforth's dictation. That dictation is delivered over an intercom system throughout the entire mountainside Italian villa. Played by Maggie Lacey, Blackie is prim and proper with her hair pulled back and her wardrobe is always business-professional. When Chris comes into Blackie's life, her hair and dress noticeably change and become softly feminine. Lacey brings genuine grace and beauty to her role, which contrasts perfectly with Mrs. Goforth in the ugly throes of pain and imminent death.
Whether the old labels of failure persevere or audiences look at this oblique play with new eyes, there is no doubt that this is a powerful once-in-a-lifetime production.
Dukakis, Anderson ride the 'Milk Train'
By BONNIE GOLDBERG If the universe is slightly off-kilter, and you make a mistake, perhaps you can get the universe back into alignment and “do over” your error. That is the hope of Peter Mollberg when he attends his 20th high school reunion and confronts Kari Hermansen in a slow dance of accusations and lost love, mistakes and second chances.
The 100-year-old dance hall in Pine City, Minn., slated for imminent destruction, is the setting for Craig Wright’s bittersweet and lovely romance, “The Pavilion,” now lighting up the stage of the Westport Country Playhouse until Saturday.
Two decades ago, Peter and Kari were voted the Cutest Senior Couple, until Kari discovered she was pregnant and Peter chose to run away, when he should have stayed by her side. Now fast forward to their reunion, when Peter has come to make amends and beg Kari to restore the love he so callously discarded.
Michael Laurence’s Peter has been paying the price for his cowardice for a long time. Even though he is a psychologist, he can’t cure what ails him: only Kari’s forgiveness and love can. Tracy Middendorf’s Kari was “rescued” by a fellow classmate Hans after having an abortion and has been trapped in a job in a bank guarding valuables, when she has nothing of merit of her own. To her, what they once had and treasured has been irretrievably lost.
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Narrating this poetic and philosophical tale is Michael Milligan, who serves as everyone in the class in attendance at the dance, and he does an admirable job as every Carla, Denise, Lisa and Tom, Dick and Harry.
Chad Rabinovitz directs this touching memory play of pain and poignancy, love and loss, regret and repair.
For tickets ($30 to 55), call Westport Country Playhouse, 25 Powers Court, Westport, Route 1, at (203) 227-4177 or (888) 927-7529, or online at www.westportplayhouse.org. Performances are tonight and Friday at 8 p.m., Saturday at 4 and 8 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m. For other reviews of this and other current theatrical offerings, go to www.ctcritics.org.
Discover for yourself if the universe in general and Kari in particular can find forgiveness for Peter as you travel through time on a journey of the heart.
Olympia Dukakis conducts ‘Milk Train’
We all long for companionship and love in our lives and, how much more so, if death is imminent and we don’t want to depart this world alone. To Flora Goforth, living on a secluded mountain-top retreat on the Amalfi coast of Italy, dictating her colorful memoirs to her secretary Blackie (Maggie Lacey), the prospect of death’s arrival is a particularly devastating one.
The adventurous Goforth, splendidly created by Olympia Dukakis, is an aging society diva who, in her youth, delighted in doing shocking things like appear at a costume ball as the ravishingly unclad Lady Godiva. She has had four husbands, the first two ugly, the third who resembled an ostrich and only the fourth, a handsome stud, who was able to break the protective shell around her heart with his love and sexual intimacy. Unfortunately, he was killed speeding in a sports car she gave him as a gift.
Now the vulnerable, feisty and unique lady is facing three deadlines: her New York publisher, her London publisher and one with the Angel of Death. Until Sunday, June 15, the Hartford Stage will be mounting a dazzling version of Tennessee Williams’ “The Milk Train Doesn’t Stop Here Anymore,” as the tenth installment of their Tennessee Williams Marathon, a decade-long tribute to one of America’s finest playwrights.
Kevin Anderson plays the mysteriously engaging stranger Christopher Flanders who arrives on the diva’s doorstep unannounced but possibly not unwelcome. A maker of mobiles and a writer of poetry, Christopher could as easily be a con man and thief, a last possibility to offer love or a sweet soul to make her passage into the next world a little easier. The sudden arrival of Flora’s friendly enemy, the Witch of Capri (Judith Roberts), casts suspicions over Chris’s motives and provides a catalyst for the plot.
Michael Wilson directs this engaging drama with flair on a romantic set designed by Jeff Cowie.
For tickets ($23 to $64), call the Hartford Stage, 50 Church St., Hartford, at (860) 527-5151 or online at www.hartfordstage.org. Performances are Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday at 7:30 p.m., Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m., with matinees Sundays and selected Wednesday and Saturday at 2 p.m.
Visit Goforth’s mountain, where the scavenger crows are circling, as she boldly battles against death and takes a last fling at love.
CONNECTICUT
Regional Reviews by Fred SokolThe Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore
Tennessee Williams' script for The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore sustains interest but I would not list it among his very best. Cast members perform commendably, and the settings fully transport theatergoers to another land within the current production at Hartford Stage, concluding on June 15th. The play itself is thought provoking and disturbing.
Olympia Dukakis plays Mrs. Goforth (also called Flora or Sissy), an older woman dictating her memoirs as she prepares to die, sometime during the early 1960s. She initially appears on a bed in one of her villas atop a mountain along the southern coast of Italy. Jeff Cowie's eye-catching, beautiful set is fully captivating. According to Rui Rita's lighting shifts, indoor and outdoor furniture is either silver or a creamy off-white. Cowie furnishes simulated rocks and boulders and three lengthy, transparent curtains toward the rear of the stage. With a couple of bridges and the roar of the sea (thanks to John Gromada), the production elements are superb and enhancing.
Mrs. Goforth, audacious and self-centered, speaks of various husbands she once had. She dismisses many and recalls the final one for his good looks. Speaking either in person or via microphone to her dutiful secretary, Blackie (Maggie Lacey), Dukakis' Goforth is brazen, barbed, and forever feisty.
An exhausted visitor, Chris Flanders (Kevin Anderson) comes upon the scene. He seems to have an affinity and need for tending to terminal older women. Having completed a difficult hike up the steep mountain, Flanders brings with him a mobile he's fashioned and a book of his own verse. Nomadic, Flanders rekindles desire within Flora. He's famished, but she makes certain, initially, that he has nothing to eat. Not surprisingly, he finds the attractive Blackie physically alluring. She, later, reciprocates.
The final character to appear is The Witch of Capri (Judith Roberts), who is very much aware of Flanders' reputation. She refers to the good looking, middle-aged man as "The Angel of Death," and isn't shy about voicing her blunt feelings. In fact, she wouldn't mind if Chris made the trek to her mountain. Why not?
Dukakis takes on Mrs. Goforth with joie de vivre and a "why not, what the hell" attitude. She wears costumer David Woolard's Kabuki dance attire with flair and panache. It's a multi-dimensional performance which perfectly suits a woman of many moods. With Flanders in view, Sissy forgets her age and limited life span.
The problem is that Williams draws forth little sympathy for any of his characters. His dialogue, as ever, intrigues. Many of his plays utilize sexuality as a metaphor of life. Yet Milk Train is a play about death and dying. One feels the fright of isolation within a sometimes over-the-top Flora. Here is one wish for some symbol of hope to balance dread of the coming abyss. Blackie, youthful and engaging, might be on the cusp. In the end, we lose sight of her as the plot spins more specifically about the protagonist, Mrs. Goforth.
There is often a brutal quality to Tennessee Williams which is complemented by his poetic writing. While he provides some comedy (seized upon by Dukakis) with Milk Train, it's a pretty dark drama with little opportunity for redemption. Michael Wilson, who is adept with Williams, offers detailed direction.
The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore continues through June 15th at Hartford Stage. For ticket information call (860) 527-5151 or visit www.hartfordstage.org.
Photo: T. Charles Erickson- Fred Sokol
