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A Slice of
Americana Star Bar's Bus Stop boasts some delicious filling, and
some foul fruit The Colorado Springs
Independent, January 16th, 2003
Grace's Restaurant -- the setting for
William Inge's Bus Stop -- specializes in homemade pies and
epiphanies.
The play is a textbook dramatic schemata:
Isolate a disparate cross section of the nation's populace and force
them to deal with each other. Throw in a burgeoning lecherous
romance and an arrogant young buck who needs to be brought down a
peg, and it's a theatrical test tube that includes every war movie
ever made and then some.
The Star Bar Players' season opener
showcases some exceptional performances, but I'm not sure why this
particular play needed reviving. The scenario is as follows:
A bus has been forced off the road by a
snowstorm, stranding an assortment of troubled folks in Grace's
Restaurant. While Grace (Amy Brooks) absconds for some clandestine
boot- knocking with her bus-driving lover (Tony Babin), her
restaurant descends into a cauldron of reckoning with the demons of
arrogance, denial and love.
First to get the ball rolling is Cherie
(Alysabeth Clements), who bounds into Grace's Restaurant seeking
asylum from her cowboy fiancé, Bo, who is bent on wedding and
bedding her down on his Montana ranch. Bo is the prototypical alpha
male moron. He makes a point of announcing his bank statement to a
restaurant full of strangers. In an age of urban-o-centricity, it's
somewhat charming that a man might see fit to wow you by cataloging
his livestock.
Cherie is a young but seen-it-all nightclub
singer who made the mistake of indulging the googly-eyed Bo, who has
no idea she has been around the block several times over. Not
surprisingly, Cherie's had it with her suitor's boisterous naïveté,
and seeks refuge in Grace's Restaurant. Upon discovering Cherie's
intentions to leave him, Bo becomes inconsolably apoplectic. Act One
ends with his earnest confession that he never thought a woman could
resist him.
Meanwhile, at the restaurant counter, Dr.
Gerald Lyman (Phil Ginsburg) recaps his three marriages to the
sprightly young waitress, Elma Duckworth (Erika Zaccaria), who is
torn between flattery and discomfort. Ginsburg is Bus Stop's
undisputed show-stealer. His nutty patrician professor routine is
filled with a hilarious bitterness masked in self-effacing dark
humor. The skeleton in his closet is a career's worth of lechery
with young female students. Peppered with diatribes on the state of
higher education, Lyman's musings brim with denial, a bit of rage
mixed in. While Ginsburg may lack the poise needed for a successful
lecher, his brand of pompous humor more than compensates.
Unfortunately, Bus Stop hinges on
the vicissitudes of Bo and Cherie's relationship. Despite Clements'
convincing Cherie -- with her sassy-country-girl-turned-city-slicker
dialect, Clements is quite effective as a woman caught between
dwindling life choices and a pre-feminist conscience -- she can't
haul the load on her own. Even though the role sometimes calls for
it, Brantley Haines' Bo is excessively over the top. His constant
sneers and scowls evoke a toddler's "mad face" and there's never a
moment when he is not "acting." This deters much empathy or interest
in his humility lesson, which is the cornerstone of the play. Act
Three's denouement is as predictable as it is cumbersome. Bus
Stop is a slice of Americana -- a pie with some delicious
filling and a few foul fruits.
-- John Dicker
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