A Review — "Downstairs" at ACT Theatre is Riveting Drama

Photo provided by MR Toomey Photography

The Seattle premier of the play Downstairs, written by Theresa Rebeck and directed by Julie Beckman, features a cast of three who create an intense drama. Within the walls of The Bullitt Cabaret at ACT-A Contemporary Theatre, in Seattle, this play is set in a cluttered basement room. There, safety, danger, shelter, exposure, love, hate, fear, hope, and courage all share space far from the light of day. Not even the room's dark corners provide a place for the characters to hide. They must face painful truths about themselves and others before they can emerge as changed human beings, except for one. 

Producing Artistic Director Corey McDaniel founded Theatre22, which partnered with ACTLab to cooperatively produce this play. Downstairs has its roots in the ACT Construction Zone, a festival focused on new plays. From a field of 100 works solicited for the event, Downstairs was among four finalists presented as readings in the autumn of 2016 before being chosen as the one to be fully produced. 

Photo provided by MR Toomey Photography

Downstairs tells the story of a troubled and destructive marriage overlapping the relationship between adult siblings, a brother and sister scarred by their late mother's apparent mental illness and their father's early death. Caught in the middle is  Irene, both wife and sister, played by Christine Marie Brown. Brandon Ryan portrays her highly intelligent but sometimes semi-unintelligible brother, Teddy. Disheveled, unemployed and seemingly homeless, he justifies his extended "visit" and occupancy of Gerry and Irene's basement by claiming he is owed the favor. He feels cheated of his inheritance. According to Irene, however, when their mother's estate was being settled, he was too unstable to receive and handle his share. Teddy also hints at imminent plans, entrepreneurial opportunities he refuses to reveal. His presence, deeply resented by Gerry, changes the status quo of the marriage and becomes the catalyst for a crisis capable of destroying everything. 

Irene, at first, is rather cool toward her brother. Yet, in the contradictory and strange dance of their relationship, they each display frustration, annoyance, disagreement, nervous concern, and tender affection. None of this is ever boring. In fact, the play grows more interesting with each line. We realize Irene is nervous for both of them. The more she talks, the more we see her loneliness, low self-esteem, and isolation. She is trapped.

John Q. Smith plays the part of Irene's husband, Gerry, who does not actually appear until the second act. By the time he does, the siblings have already revealed enough about him to mix trepidation with the anticipation. Although Irene makes excuses for Gerry's behavior, she also lets slip to her brother how she has seen the monster within. Her lines included:"Something came out and looked at me. It showed its face." and "He says mean things, terrible things."

The basement room contains a sofa, a workbench above which Gerry's tools hang, a coffee pot, often handled and looked at, but seemingly never containing fresh coffee, a trunk on which sits a supposedly non-working computer (which will become signifiant), some shelving, and various pieces of clutter, such as cardboard boxes and an old lampshade. A curtain covers the doorway to a bathroom, and stairs lead up into the house. Within this environment, Teddy survives on cereal and food his sister prepares and brings to him. He never leaves until the traumatic day he must. 

Photo provided  by MR Toomey Photography

Blankets and afghans lie around on the sofa, floor, and elsewhere. When Irene ventures downstairs to talk to her brother, her handling of these props reveals her mental and emotional state. One minute she is testily tidying, folding them and placing them on the nearby shelves as an attempt to create order from the chaos of her existence. The next minute, she curls up on the sofa with one around her shoulders, seeking comfort. 

Likewise, the exchanges between the siblings can sound sensible or indicative of a mutual madness. Teddy is more obviously mentally ill, but sees certain truths clearly. Irene protects herself with extreme denial and tries to hide a festering anger. Her comments vacillate between near panic over her husband's growing and dangerous resentment to her rosy recollections of life with the mother she and Teddy view quite differently.

Members of the audience may, themselves, feel vulnerable on their ride through this gripping tale. Beware—it deals with abuse. Emotional abuse is built into the script. The threat of physical abuse hovers, ever present. For anyone who has experience either, it might hit too close to home. A disturbing reference to animal cruelty also occurs. As the tension builds, characters become emboldened and surprise us. This drama makes you aware of how a human being who never seemed the type could be pushed to the brink of violence. A few actions will literally startle you.

Photo provided by MR Toomey Photography

Only the best cast and creative team can make this play work. (Learn more about them here.) Brown's advanced skills enable her to navigate a complex role and sob so convincingly one truly feels her pain. She is a fearful "pleaser" with plenty of suppressed anger. Ryan, as Teddy, draws our empathy along with some suspicion. His rambling lines would not be easy to memorize or execute, but he has mastered them. Smith gave a stunning performance. One of the most chilling moments comes when Gerry finally appears on those stairs. Without saying a word, at first, Smith makes his character terribly threatening, his palpable malevolence coiled behind a thin wall of feigned civility, waiting to strike.

In response to a comment from Teddy, Gerry coldly says, "Trust me, you will know when things are not polite. I don't care what you think , and I don't care what she thinks."

Photo provided by MR Toomey Photography

Yes, this is a dark tale, but not entirely, or forever. If even offers small doses of humor. At the very heart of it, and as its motivation, lie hope and the potential for healing. A story, in order to be a story, must take characters on a journey, and this one does. Each will reveal inner weaknesses and strengths, for good or evil, as they follow the paths to their inevitable futures. If you prefer an evening of light entertainment, see something else. If you want to experience truly riveting theater, get your tickets now.

Note: Although these photos appear dark, the lighting on stage is much brighter.

"Hold These Truths" at ACT Theatre Hits Close to Home With This Reviewer

Actor Ryun Yu in the role of Gordon Hirabuyashi at ACT   Photo: Michael Lamont

When I attended the press opening of  Hold These Truths—a play by Jeanne Sakata about the internment of Japanese-Americans during WWII—my body might have been at ACT-A Contemporary Theatre, in Seattle, but my mind was in the strawberry fields across the road from my childhood home. We lived on nearby Vashon Island, and our Japanese-American neighbors owned those fields. 

By my early teens, I was aware of the fact that this fine family, the Matsudas, had spent time in internment camps during WWII, even while their son served in the 100th/442nd Regimental Combat Team, but no one talked about this during the 1960s when I picked strawberries on the Matsuda farm for a summer job, alongside my siblings and friends. It was not a topic of conversation in our home either, although initially it must have deeply upset my parents. I knew they thought it wrong. I was born as next to the youngest in a large family, but the Matsudas had always been friends, good neighbors, and went to the same church. I was brought up to respect them. I could tell that this past, the years when their modest farm house stood empty, represented a touchy subject, carrying a sense of embarrassment and shame, but it was before my time. If there had been any outrage in the community over this injustice, little trace of it remained evident during my youth.

As an adult, I read a book published in 2005 by a member of the Matsuda family, Mary Matsuda Gruenewald. She gave it the title of Looking Like the Enemy-My Story of Imprisonment in Japanese-American Internment Camps. Mary was a teenager when she, along with her parents and brother, were abruptly evacuated from their island home, as were as many as 120,000 other Japanese-Americans on the West Coast. After I read her book, I loaned it to my father, who was by then in his nineties. I will never forget how profoundly it affected him. When he read about how the Matsudas purposefully destroyed their precious family heirlooms and photographs to avoid any appearance of loyalty to Japan, he felt extremely sad, saying if he had only known he would have gladly stored and protected their belongings for them until the war's end. Whether of not it occurred to my parents or others in our community to dig into the truths of our neighbors horrible and unjust experiences, or whether or not they stopped to imagine the sacrifices involved, I cannot say. I know my father and others seemed to believe the internment actually might have protected the Japanese from violence, but who can say? Surely that protection could have been provided in a more humane way. 

My father was old enough to remember the arrival of Japanese families on the island during the 1920s and how well they were accepted, how their children and the island's other children happily attended school together and became good friends. By 1936, 37 Japanese families lived on Vashon. All contributed to and participated in that small society. The attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and the anti-Japanese prejudice that followed, would change everything. That it was a time of confusion and uncertainty for all does not erase the horribly wrong acts that followed.

Ryun Yu as Gordon Hirabayashi
Photo: Michael Lamont 

That change in how the government and society viewed Japanese-Americans and how it impacted the life of a young Seattleite and University of Washington student named Gordon Hirabayashi (1918-2012) is the basis for the play Hold These Truths, which opened on July 17 and runs through August 16. In this one-man show, actor Ryun Yu, in his role as Hirabayashi, tells the true story of how his character came to be one of only three Japanese-Americans to openly defy the government's orders. He refused to report for evacuation to an internment camp. For his defiance, he found himself behind bars. His first conviction was for a curfew violation in 1942 when he stayed at the university's library to study, like other students, instead of going home by 8 p.m. He turned himself in to the FBI and served 90 days in prison. Then, in 1943, his case was appealed to the United States Supreme Court, which ruled against him, resulting in his year-long incarceration in a federal prison. 

The U.S. Court of Appeals Ninth Circuit finally overturned Hirabayashi's conviction in 1987, by which time the revelations of previously hidden documents proved that there had never been any military reason for Executive Order 9066, which deprived Japanese-Americans of their rights and freedom, even for those who were born here and had full citizenship. That order, by the way, could have been applied to Americans of German or Italian heritage too, but never was. The majority of the Japanese, naturally law-abiding, complied with the order, just as the majority of non-Japanese citizens also felt the government could not be opposed, even it they truly wanted to oppose it. Then, like now, many seized the opportunity to justify their prejudices and exploit the misfortunes of others. Sometimes even good people, in difficult situations, do not know how, or if, they should become involved, regardless of their beliefs. That is why Hirabayashi, who boldly lived his beliefs, was a hero.

In addition to becoming more educated about American history, those who attend this play will experience being in another's shoes, a reminder of how we humans are far more alike than we think we are. Yu does a fine job of bringing into our consciousness the young Hirabayashi, who was no different any other college student, except for his ethnicity and perhaps the fact that he likely had more knowledge of the Constitution than his peers, and loved it. He was proud to be American born, a citizen, like them. He worried about his grades, wanted to have fun, fell in love, like them. He also became a Quaker and pacifist. 

Ryun Yu as Gordon Hirabayashi
Credit: Michael Lamont 

It cannot be easy to be the sole actor on a stage set with nothing but three wooden chairs for props and enhanced by some dramatic lighting, both designed by Ben Zamora, but Yu manages to stimulate the imagination to the point of painting his own scenery with words, under the direction of Jessica Kubzansky. At times, he uses the voices of others with whom he has conversations, and that aspect was the cause of my only slight concern. The accents he used were right on for some of these invisible characters, but as a native of the Northwest, I was puzzled when a milder version of a southern drawl, or perhaps a Hollywood cowboy western drawl, seemed to tint his renditions of our Northwest dialect. Someone else, I know who saw the play more recently did not notice this.

I highly recommend Hold These Truths for its ability to both move us deeply and enlighten us, through personalization, on the topic of one of our nation's most shameful and ugly periods. The seriousness of the subject made the play's many moments of humor surprising and a relief. Yu is convincing as Hirabayashi and will cause you to go home with respect and admiration for this hero, his courage and convictions. 

Ryun Yu as Gordon Hirabayashi
Photo: Michael Lamont 

Writing this, my memories of three generations of the Matsuda family swirl through my head. No finer, more honorable, members of our community ever existed. I am a better person for having known and worked for them during my childhood. In fact, my father always said, "The Matsudas helped me raise my kids," referring to their examples of a strong work ethic, commitment, fairness, and other virtues. When some other kids quit picking as the summer heat came on and the berries grew smaller and the fields dustier, we stayed, taught that employment was a two-way street. The Matsudas paid us for picking, but they also counted on us to be there to help bring in the crop. Even though our government had let them down, our parents were not about to let us do the same, even on such a small scale.

In the prologue to Looking Like the Enemy, author Mary Matsuda Gruenewald, who was nearly 80 years old when she wrote the book, penned words she might have said to her innocent four-year-old self as seen in an old photo, a happy and secure child. 

"Have faith in your family and the ultimate goodness of people," would have been her advice. "Especially have faith in yourself to survive the catastrophic events yet to come. In spite of all the terror, pain, depression, and tears in your future, you will reach a final hopeful conclusion."

I am so glad I saw Hold These Truths. The real facts of history, like a strawberry on a vine too close to the ground, sometimes become soiled with dirt that hides the truth. Only when we brush it away, turn it over, examine it's shiny redness in the honest light of the sun, then taste it for ourselves, can we perceive whether it is bitter with decay or filled with sweetness. The lives of all people, and the nations they live in, always contain a portion of both.

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"CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF" AT ACT THEATRE BRINGS MORE OF A HISS THAN A PURR —A Review

John Aylward and Brandon O'Neill as Big Daddy and Brick
Photo: Chris Bennion

If “Big Daddy,” the profane and crude, but truthful, patriarch of the wealthy southern family in the play  Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, actually existed, he would no doubt approve of my need to "tell it like it is" in this review. He never held back on his opinions. A production of this Tennessee Williams play runs April 17-May 17, 2015 at ACT-A Contemporary Theatre in Seattle, directed by Kurt Beattie. The best thing about it is actor John Aylward's gutsy, powerful performance in the "Big Daddy" role. He gives this show some fine dramatic moments when little else does. 

Imagine a soap opera set in the Mississippi delta in the 1950s. On Big Daddy’s birthday, his eldest son and two daughters-in-law try too hard to win his favor, knowing what he himself does not yet know, that he is dying of cancer and will soon leave behind his 28,000-acre estate. The eldest son, bland and boring Gooper (Charles Leggett) and Gooper’s overly talkative and once-again-pregnant wife Mae (Morgan Rowe) have produced a next generation of annoying children to carry on the family name, while the younger, favorite son, Brick (Brandon O’Neill), a former star athlete, and his wife, Maggie (Laura Griffith) have not. It’s difficult to make babies when you don’t have sex. 

Brandon O'Neill as Brick Solo with Drink
Photo: Chris Bennion 

They don’t have sex, because Brick is an alcoholic who has turned his back on the family dramas and the marital bed. He just can’t quit mourning the death of his best and one true friend, whom his wife believes was his lover. Whether or not this was true remains a mystery. He denies it, both to himself and to her, and also to his father who, rough as he is, turns out to be far more open-minded and accepting than one might expect, especially during the 1950s. 

“Why is it so damn hard for people to talk?” Big Daddy asks Brick, although he seems to be asking the universe instead. His question expresses one of the play’s main ideas—that honest and genuine communication is often rare or impossible in families. The irony though, is that the very man who asks the question never stops talking long enough to let his son have a chance to open up to him. Brick’s best attempt is when he exclaims, “We’ve always just talked around things!” None of this leads anywhere. 

Maggie held up by a child        Photo: Chris Bennion

I grew frustrated with characters who, caught up in their own denial and self-absorption, never seem to change, grow, or learn. Where is the journey, the quest, the lesson? Obviously, Williams wrote this out of his own pain. Like this troubled family, he pulled the little bead chain on the attic light bulb to reveal all the cobwebs and broken, dusty things families hide but will never discard. Unfortunately, no one deals with the mess, leaving us in limbo without hope or satisfaction.

I kept waiting for the real Brick to emerge, but soon saw, and became bored with, the sameness of his monotone talk and behavior. Although basically drunk throughout the entire play, O’Neill did not act drunk enough or sober enough to thoroughly convince me of either state. He became emotional only briefly with his wife and again when he tangled with his father, in the second act. Brick’s scenes with Maggie lacked the chemistry that could have created a delicious tension. These characters were each victims, in their own way, but the actors portraying them did not make them win my sympathies.

In true soap opera fashion, unsatisfied sexual desire keeps company with resentment, jealousy, manipulation, fatal illness, competition, and, most of all, deception, creating a family so dysfunctional it will make most people relieved to know their own is not as bad. For three hours, the play examines all the reasons these people are miserable. It makes you laugh at times, possibly squirm at other times, care about some characters (but not much), despise others, and feel compassion, so is moderately successful in those ways. 

Laura Griffith solo on the bed         Photo: Chris Bennion 

The “Cat” herself, Maggie, has an impressive number of lines to say in the first act, as she nervously paces around the bedroom, dressed only in a slip. Her physical acting was good, but I wanted Griffith to s-l-o-w  d-o-w-n her lines, take an occasional breath, and deliver them with a pacing and style that could seduce, not pummel. My husband compared it to a blues record played at the wrong speed, with the words all right but the timing all wrong. Sure, she was frustrated and upset, wanted to make a point, relentlessly campaigning to get her husband back in her bed, both for her own satisfaction and to produce a child. But Griffith’s delivery did not match her sultry appearance and reminded me of something I’ve heard men say—that even the sexiest looking woman can be a turn-off if she never shuts up. 

The audience loved to laugh out loud at Big Daddy’s wife, Big Mama (Marianne Owen), a woman who seemed dressed and directed purposely to remind you of Edith Bunker in the television show “All in the Family” but far less intelligent. Worse than Archie’s treatment of Edith, Big Daddy’s distain for his wife implies a deeper issue than her weight and aging appearance (no worse than his own) and her admittedly irritating manner. Why she loves him, and she truly does, is a mystery, but her heartache over his looming death is real. 

Gooper and Mae, once they know the old man is dying, waste no time trying to take control and rob Big Mama of what little power she has. Owen made me feel compassion for her character, revealing a woman with complex emotions and loyalties. Owen excelled in the emotional scene where Big Mama learns the truth about her husband’s health. It bothered me that so many others in the audience seemed to see her only as laughable.

 Morgan Rowe and Charles Leggett              Photo: Chris Bennion 

Charles Leggett did well enough in his role of Gooper, as did Morgan Rowe as Mae, but neither impressed me as much as they both have in other plays. As despicable as their characters were, they still served to remind us of some ugly truths—parents can and do play favorites, with devastating affect, and every family has someone waiting to collect an inheritance. 

The staging of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at ACT has historical significance in that ACT presented this play during its first season, 50 years ago. Director Kurt Beattie greeted the audience on opening night and mentioned that he made his debut as a professional actor there in 1975. He called the play “an enduring American classic.” So it seems, but enduring the production I saw was a classic case of going into something expecting and wanting to love it, like I do most plays at ACT, but never reaching that state. In spite a proven old recipe, this piece of southern cornbread just wasn’t hot enough to melt my butter.

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THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH, "JACQUES BREL IS ALIVE AND WELL AND LIVING IN PARIS" (AND SEATTLE)

    

If you have never heard of Jacques Brel (1929-1978), you are not alone, even though this Belgian singer/songwriter became famous in the world of European popular music, a voice expressing the emotions of many in the difficult post-World War II era, and a man who has been compared to Frank Sinatra for his wide appeal. Yet, here in the United States, he was far less well-known. The demand for his deeply felt and passionately performed, sometimes lighthearted, but often introspective or cynical lyrics sung to his compositions played on guitar kept him on tour almost constantly until the mid-1960s and inspired song writers in America and elsewhere. 

The company of Jacques Brel is Alive and Wel & Living in Paris,
 a co-production presented at ACT - A Contemporary Theatre.
Photo Credit: Mark Kitaoka

Now through May 17, co-producers ACT—A Contemporary Theatre and The 5th Avenue Theatre bring you the musical revue called Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris . This is a fresh new version of the original Off-Broadway production by the same name, which opened in January 1968 at the Village Gate in Greenich Village in New York, toured the world’s major cities, and first appeared in the Pacific Northwest in 1973, at Seattle Rep. By the time of the show’s original New York debut in 1968 Brel, had not performed his music for two years and would be dead of lung cancer a decade later, at the age of 49. I wonder if he ever imagine how his work would live on. With direction and musical staging by The 5th Avenue Theatre's own Artistic Director and Executive Producer David Armstrong, in the intimate setting of ACT's Falls Theatre, it certainly does.

Cayman Ilika (center) with Louis Hobson (left) and Eric Ankrim (right) in Jacques Brel is Alive and Wel & Living in Paris,
 a co-production presented at ACT - A Contemporary Theatre.
​Photo Credit: Tracy Martin

If you go to see Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris, remember that this is a revue, not a play or musical. Expect no dialog, no dancing, no plot, no named “characters” in the usual sense, and costumes are mostly normal clothing accessorized in different ways. Do expect not only great singing, but also great acting from a cast of five, three men and two women who draw from Brel’s songs—and project to the audience—deep emotions, ranging from torment to humor. Cast members are Eric Ankrim, Louis Hobson (from March 7—April 12), Cayman Ilika, Kendra Kasselbaum, Timothy MeCuen Piggee, with Matt Owen taking over for Hobson April 14-May 17.

When I took my seat on the night of the press opening, I wondered what to expect. Tom Sturge’s stage design amounts to nothing more than an arrangement of steps and platforms, backed by screens onto which photographic images are projected to create a variety of moods. It turned out to be the ultimate canvas. The spareness of the set, the images, and the lighting effects added up to perfection.

Kendra Kassebaum in Jacques Brel is Alive and Wel & Living in Paris,
a co-production presented at ACT - A Contemporary Theatre.
​Photo Credit: Tracy Martin

The evening began with a live band of outstanding musicians behind a screen at the right rear of the stage but visible—Conductor Dwight Beckmeyer on piano, Greg Fulton on guitar, Chris Monroe on percussion, and Dave Pascal on bass. It is easy to be so swept up in the singing and visual aspects of this production, that you forget that a huge portion of the enjoyment you experience is due to this band. Please do not. 

From the first moment to the last, one moving, comical, dramatic, painfully tragic, or light hearted number after another—14 songs in Act I and 12 in the Act II—captivated the audience and earned enthusiastic applause. Variety kept things interesting and the time seemed to pass too quickly. The entire show progressed without a flaw, leaving me feeling that I had witnessed the finest in local talent and professionalism, as well as the profound benefit of having these two powerhouse theaters cooperate on a production. This is their fifth such annual combined effort, and I have loved every one.

The company of Jacques Brel is Alive and Wel & Living in Paris,
 a co-production presented at ACT - A Contemporary Theatre.
Photo Credit: Tracy Martin

I highly recommend this show. Get your tickets, relax, and feel yourself swept along on a sea of music marked by waves of raw emotion and expanses of hypnotic silkiness. Every part of the journey will fill you with greater appreciation for the members of the cast and creative team, our rich local live theater scene, and of course Jacques Brel, still alive and well as long as the world remembers. Who could ask for more?

Louis Hobson in Jacques Brel is Alive and Wel & Living in Paris,
a co-production presented at ACT - A Contemporary Theatre.
​Photo Credit: Mark Kitaoka

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INTERVIEW WITH ACTOR TY BOICE— APPEARING IN "SEVEN WAYS TO GET THERE" AT ACT- A CONTEMPORARY THEATRE

Sometimes the sun rises in the south—that is, if you consider Oregon to be the “south” of the Pacific Northwest. Good Life Northwest recently had the opportunity to interview Ty Boice, a member of the  Actors' Equity Association and the founder and producing artistic director of Post5 Theatre in Portland. He lives there with his wife, Cassandra Boice, Post5’s education director and associate artistic director (who is also a playwright), and their infant son, Keaton. It is a long commute back and forth to Seattle, but Boice is working here, once again. Catch him while you can.

He recently impressed Seattle audiences as the character Joe Pitt in Intiman Theatre’s Angels in America and is now igniting the stage as Vince in the world premier of a play called Seven Ways to Get There at ACT-A Contemporary Theatre. The play is a production of ACT Lab and DeeJayCee Creative Ventures. It was co-written by Dwayne Clark and Bryan Willis and directed by John Langs. It runs through Sunday, March 15. 

Trust fall
Photo: Truman Buffett

Boice shared his thoughts during a phone interview, from Portland, Oregon.

Candace Brown for Good Life Northwest: Before we talk about the play Seven Ways to Get There, please tell me about your prior acting opportunities in Seattle. You keep coming back, so you must like it here.

Boice: As far as my background in Seattle goes, it’s been quite a wonderful love affair. I’ve worked up there several different times in my life. Prior to going to school, I did four shows up there on the fringe circuit and then two independent films. 

I was very serious about moving after I finished my training (Portland Actors Conservatory), but then Post5 Theatre fell into my lap, so I began that journey. That was the deciding factor in me not being a fixture of Seattle theater. I love the growth I’ve had as an artist up there, and the people I’ve worked with. It’s an incredible medium-sized market as far as American theater goes, a place rich with history, and an exciting place, because people are pushing limits. 

There is always growth when I go up there. I always see new work, new people making theater, and it’s very inspiring. As an actor, I think I’m happiest in Seattle, and as a producer, in Portland.  There is a lot more work I want to do in Seattle.

GLN: Please give me a synopsis of Seven Ways to Get There. I know it is about a therapy group for men, led by a woman.

Boice: It’s basically seven different men coming with seven different issues, and those issues vary in severity. They’re all dealing with things. What’s lovely about the play is that they find friendship, respect, and support in what, in the beginning of the play, seems like a very unlikely place. They find a commonality. Egos are set aside and bump up against each other. Ultimately, friendships are made. Lives are changed as a result of this mens’ group. It’s based on true experiences. It’s a slice-of-life play, and it’s terribly funny. 

GLN: Yes, people are saying that. Tell me about the humor.

Boice: A lot of the credit has to go to the playwright, in that he offered what our director has essentially called “chocolate and vanilla.” We’ll deal with something that’s real and heavy and that many of us can relate to directly, or to something similar. Then he’ll give us some “vanilla.” We’re able to laugh at ourselves. We’re able to laugh at these characters and their scruples. It has this kind of sparkling, wonderful energy to it. At times, it’s very laconic, and at times it’s very  “in your face.” John Langs, our incredible director, likened it to jazz. There are a lot of different sounds percolating. 

I think that as a cast and an artistic team, we’ve had success. Audiences have really enjoyed it. I think we’ve had a standing ovation at every preview, every dress rehearsal, and every performance, and that doesn’t happen all the time, in Seattle or Portland. So that was pretty unique. Whether it’s everybody’s cup of tea, I don’t know. I know I’m enjoying doing it, and people sure seem to enjoy it.

Photo: Truman Buffett

GLN: Has it been a challenge, and if so, in what particular ways? 

Boice: It was all very positive—working on a new play and essentially working with the playwright to write that in the room. That is a delightful challenge. I can’t say enough about the people who were in this room, the cast—Bradford Farwell, Darragh Kennan, James Lapan, Charles Leggett, Kirsten Potter, Todd Van Voris, Bob Williams. These are wonderful veteran theater actors. They are obviously very smart actors, so with any inconsistencies the play would have— which is normal for any play in its infancy, like this one is—they were so smart in finding those in a healthy and supportive way with the playwright, really coming alongside him and adding very positive feedback. 

So the challenge was to let yourself flex and stretch as you got rewrites, to let go of lines you love, and then learn how to make challenging parts in the script work. We had a draft we started with, and then it changed considerably. It’s an ongoing process, working on the draft. I think the playwright, director, and producer will continue to make changes, but I know that where they left off with us, we have a concrete piece of material. 

GLN: You mention how these characters are supportive of each other and form strong friendships. Do you think that is a little bit different than the reality of most men?

Boice: Oh absolutely. It would be completely accurate to describe their relationships as combative, as contrary, as antagonistic. It is amazing where we start and then where we end, first as a group of individuals and then as a cohesive unit. Some real friendships were born out of the experience they had. There’s kind of an underlying theme of “I call bullshit” on somebody’s untruth or not owning up to their mistakes. These characters challenge each other, sometimes in healthy ways and sometimes in very unhealthy ways, so it makes for wonderful theater, seeing seven different ingredients mix and intermingle and slam up against each other. There are strong chemical reactions. It makes for some good humor and drama.

GLN: Do you think it’s true that our society is not adequately aware of men’s therapy groups, and that men don’t talk about them? 

Boice: I think there’s a screaming need for better mental health. We can talk about gun control; we can talk about anti-bullying campaigns; we can talk about equal rights, but a lot of theses things stem from flawed thinking or abuse. That effects all genders, all sexualities. Mental health is a universal topic and very important. This is a great conversation starter. There are so many things we deal with, even those who seem mentally healthy. We’re all dealing with something. We can always use support without an agenda and people who want to help us navigate. 

GLN: As you say all of this, I’m thinking about the role of art in our culture and the importance of art to society. 

Boice: There are all different kinds of theater. There are musicals, full performance art, things geared differently and illuminating stories in different ways. But I am obviously a huge fan of expressing the human condition in all its beauty and ugliness and exploring that. I would give this play a tremendous thumbs-up. It’s watching a lot of different character studies and—to give credit to my cast mates and director—watching the artists handle these characters with deft skills. There’s an articulate way they go about telling these men’s stories. 

Photo: Truman Buffet

GLN: What about the dynamic of having an all-male cast except for one woman? 

Boice: Oh it’s wonderful, because it makes for great drama! That’s addressed in the play. I don’t want to spoil anything, but it’s delightful how the playwright has chosen to handle that, how Kirsten Potter’s character, Michelle, the therapist, is written and how the actor is navigating that. She demands respect, both as an actor and as a character. It’s a joy to watch her work.

GLN: Do you think this would have been a very different play had there not been a woman in that role? 

Boice: Oh yes. I’m so glad the playwright made that choice. He was so smart to have that dynamic in the room.

GLN: Is there anything else you would like to tell people about Seven Ways to Get There and why they ought to go see it? 

Boice: Since I’m in the thick of it, I don’t know that I have the best perspective, but I know I'm enjoying it, and my cast mates are enjoying it. If the actors are all enjoying the process and having this much fun on stage telling a story, it’s bound to be successful. As far as audience response goes, like I say, we’ve had all standing ovations. I don’t want to put the pressure on us or the audience, but that’s a rare experience and a pretty neat one. I think people will really enjoy this play.

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Don't miss the opportunity to see Boice and the rest of this fine cast in Seven Ways to Get There at ACT-A Contemporary Theatre, located at 700 Union Street, Seattle, WA 98101. (Age Recommendation: 14+ for mature language and themes) You can buy tickets online through the ACT box office or call (206) 292-7660 to get seats for the following remaining dates and times—

Thursday, March 5, 7:30pm

Friday, March 6, 7:30pm

Saturday, March 7, 7:30pm

Sunday, March 8, 7:30pm

Thursday, March 12, 7:30pm

Friday, March 13, 7:30pm

Saturday, March 14, 2:00pm and 7:30pm

Sunday, March 15, 2:00pm

Here are some links to articles about Ty Boice and reviews of his work— 

Oregon Live

Portland Stage Reviews

PQ Monthly

Willamette Week

Bringing Live Theater to Your Community — a practical guide to starting and running a local theater company by Candace Brown

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