Side Man

 by Diane Ney 

 

     In SIDE MAN, playwright Warren Leight savages his parents with sad affection and clean deep cuts, presenting them matter-of-factly as the flawed human beings they were. No accusations, no psychobabble. It’s just the facts in a semi-autobiographical setting. The result is as devastating a portrait of abusive love as you’re likely to see. Yet, amazingly, at play’s end, you’re feeling the same forgiving anguish their son feels for these hapless monsters.
     This is as much because of director Leslie A. Kobylinski’s deft handling of Leight’s memory play, eliciting finely etched performances from her company, as it is due to Leight’s engaging way with a story, even one as tragic as that of his alter ego, Clifford’s (Chris Stezin), childhood .
     Clifford’s father, Gene (Kevin Adams), is a so-called side man, a trumpet player who works for hire, early on with the most famous of the big bands and, towards the end of his life, in the most obscure of small clubs. His mother, Terry (Amy McWilliams), falls in love with her husband’s talent and gradually realizes his talent is the one part of him she can’t touch. 
     As they painfully descend through their own increasingly bitter rings of hell, their son is forced to deal with all the residual damage. A scene in which the ten-year-old Clifford talks his alcoholic mother out of committing suicide is harrowing. Even more searing is the scene with his father the same night, when the father fails to notice his sons lingering terror, barely held in check. 
     Stezin gives Clifford the tell-tale muted personality of a scarring childhood, a man left with no emotional base, just going through the motions of living his life. Gene’s musician friends (Scott Graham, Eric Lucas, and Mark Rhea) provide a genuineness to the musician backdrop, each distinctly lost everywhere but in his own sounds. And Charlotte Akin is an appealing Patsy, the bar maid with a weakness for musicians.
     But it’s McWilliams and Adams who stand out, as Terry morphs from a mousy innocent to a screaming termagant and Gene from a cool musician exuding that smokey jazz atmosphere to a burnt out cipher. She’s the fire, he’s the ashes and there’s no end to either's misery. They’re the powerful core of this compelling production.

 

 

Plays International (London)