Arlene Hutton’s world premiere at A.D. Players, Holly Street, could have premiered in the year it’s set, Christmas, 1946. You expect William Inge to pop in the front door and shout, Who stole my play!
This is old-fashioned play writing with solid structure, engaging characters who all of course have secrets to be revealed, and placed within a solid realist one-room set (lovely work, by the way, from Chad Arrington). The acting is detailed, the direction unobtrusive, yet the whole thing is kind of a bore.
Virginia (Nadia Diamond) has corresponded with her finance Paul throughout the war. Full of mundane trifles and also passionate feelings, her letters are read by Paul to his troop mates who are fortified with such descriptions of life at home that they forget for a moment the killing and dying all around them. The letters bring hope and the true reason why they’re fighting.
After Paul is killed during the Battle of the Bulge, her letters are returned by his pal Leland (Josh Turner, in a defining performance of introversion and shy little tics) who has fallen in a sort of love with this very picture of the American girl next door. Army buddy Sid (Robby Matlock, all bluster and hail-fellow-well-met) happens to show up at the house, too, with plans to sweep her off her feet and take her back to Charleston. He’s the extrovert, the man about town, the experienced one. He, too, has fallen in love with her and is intrigued by the hidden passions expressed through the letters.
Who holds these budding Romeos in check is the commanding, controlling Martha, Virginia’s sister (Christy Watkins, who on a bad day could play both Mrs. Danvers and Rebecca in the same production). She brooks no nonsense, is always criticizing, has plans all laid out and you’d better follow them. She attempts to squash these men from their ardent desires, but she, too, holds a secret. But it’s Paul’s final letter that is Virginia’s mighty catalyst. She waits until Christmas Eve to read it after a brutal argument with Martha. It changes everything.
The secrets are not much of a surprise when they’re revealed, except for Leland’s family history which is brushed over so quickly I’m still not sure what his secret was (mixed race, perhaps?). It has something to do with his boyhood neighborhood run out of town because a white man was killed, but the subject’s never brought up again, so we’re left hanging. I was positive we’d learn more in the second act, but no, Hutton has other secrets to explain and the play’s nearing its end.
There are enough threads in this story to weave a tapestry that Penelope would be proud of. Some are followed, some are dropped, some are left lying on the floor. Virginia’s about to be kissed, but the moment’s interrupted. We keep going up hill, only to run out of gas and roll backward. It all doesn’t seem real. Leland and Sid burst through the front door without knocking. Folks in Berea, Kentucky, probably wouldn’t have locked their doors in 1946, but everybody knocked on the door until asked to come in.
And what’s with that slo-mo Christmas day dinner scene? Virginia’s had an epiphany after reading Paul’s last letter. Is this showing her state of mind? Her trauma? This is so out of place in this kitchen sink drama, that director Eric Nightengale, Hutton’s go-to director for years, missteps. It doesn’t do much harm overall, only slightly comic. The audience giggled whenever the slo-mo returned to normal action.
Hutton has been a playwright for many years and has a bookshelf of nominations and accolades to show for her work, and this latest one is professional, tasteful, conventional. William Inge would be pleased.
Holly Street continues through September 6 at 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays through Saturdays; and 2 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays at A.D. Players at the George Theater, 5420 Westheimer. For more information, call 713-526-2721 or visit adplayers.org. $10-$80.
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