REVIEW: Harbinger Theatre Cast Beautifully Sinks Audiences into Thought with Deep Blue Sound
Through 09/21 @ Steamer No. 10 Theatre, Albany
Photos by Andrew Elder, Best of Frame Photos
“They painted the picture of a small group whose frail connections to each other were spinning an ever-weaving web, held together by a love for the beautiful whales that visited them each winter, that had suddenly disappeared.”
Embarking on my second Harbinger Theatre production of the year, sitting amidst a busy audience on preview night, I was curious to see how this inland, Northeastern cast would bring a Puget Sound island town to life. Never having seen Deep Blue Sea before, which had an extended off-Broadway run this past spring, all I knew was that we’d be seeing, or at least hearing about, whales, and the depths of human emotion, complete with trauma and triumph.
I was delighted when the show began with a Sorkin-esque intro, the full nine-player cast talking over each other, interrupting one another, and shooting glances across the stage that displayed everything from wearing patience to longing. Director Chris Foster aligned his cast in simple wooden chairs facing the audience so that, immediately, they painted the picture of a small group whose frail connections to each other were spinning an ever-weaving web, held together by a love for the beautiful whales that visited them each winter, which had suddenly disappeared.
Amongst the shouting and spouting stood Kathleen Carey, whose principal role of (unofficial) Mayor Annie was played with a compelling mix of over-enthusiasm, anxiety, and delusion. And, yes, it must be said that this was the principal role, as each cast member played two or three characters throughout the show – it was a good thing they warned us not to try to keep up in the intro, because there were a few times where I sure couldn’t.
That said, I’m one who reads into the intentionality of choices that seem discordant, such as some of the choppy storylines inserted by playwright Abe Koogler. Mother Mo (Carey, again) and son Alexander’s (Tony Pallone) storyline about his dreams of dance was one that threw me for a loop as I watched. “What are we doing here?” I frequently thought. Yet, sitting on this review and debating the meaning, I’m starting to believe that it was at once comic relief, but also a lesson in accepting that the life that is unfolding is adjacent to lives that do seem oddly paired. While Joy Mead (Carol Charniga) dies of cancer and plans her own death as her daughter Ali (Quinn Solace) grapples with the final days of their relationship, we watch another mother grappling with when to support a child and when to bring them home to reality.
Also woven within these moments were hints at broader social justice movements – taking care of your mental health, getting the help you need, climate change. While I was a bit confused about how to feel about the aggressive (abusive?) Chris (Pallone’s main role) reuniting with ex-wife Mary (Jessica Córdova), I was struck by Pallone’s reserved emotional performance. He rarely raised his voice or even spoke for more than a few lines at a time, but his internal confusion, sadness, and longing were on display for all to see through his downtrodden and pleading facial expressions and tones.
Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my personal favorite storyline, albeit a small one. John (Dennis Skiba) and Gary (J. Scala) awkwardly meeting each other in the middle as John funnels his compassion into giving “Homeless Gary” work while not trying hard not to demean him. Scala’s coarse and blunt delivery paired with Skiba’s thoughtful, sometimes stilted pondering, created laughter and a feeling of tenderness.
Scala’s big moment, however, was perhaps in their secondary role as…the whale! “I’ve been a whale the whole time,” they deadpan to the cackling audience before delivering a monologue on youthful innocence and change, finally unraveling the great Orca mystery.
While at times the change–between scenes, characters, and storylines–could be a lot to handle, it was still a lovely homage to the lines that connect us, even in their invisibility. And, of course, to the whales, the leaping motif for them all.
For more information and to purchase tickets, visit https://steamer10theatre.org/.
