The lights come up on a great room in Palm Springs in the year 2004. This is obviously the home of a wealthy family, one that can afford a high priced decorator to infuse the proper modern touch. But there is a coldness here, a palpable lack of ebullience. The walls are stone, the furniture is without the merest hint of color, and the Christmas tree in the background is silvered to the extreme. Even the presents underneath are wrapped in shades of beige.
The inhabitants of this cool oasis are Polly Wyeth (Stockard Channing), her husband Lyman (Stacy Keach), their daughter Brooke (Rachel Griffiths), their son Trip (Thomas Sadoski), and Polly’s sister, Silda (Judith Light). They are gathered to celebrate the holiday in their own prickly style; they find themselves also having to deal with a tell-all book Brooke has written about her dead brother.
It turns out that the ultra-conservative Mr. and Mrs. Wyeth have a painful secret in their background. Their absent son is dead, having killed himself after a domestic terror incident carried out by his fanatical left-wing cult. Lyman, a former movie actor who was made an ambassador by good pal “Ronnie” Reagan, begs Brooke to wait until after he and Polly are dead to publish her book. But Brooke, who hasn’t written in years and who fights her chronic depression with her zeal to reveal the truth, refuses.
Aunt Silda has been her accomplice, supplying details and a voice easily recognized by sister Polly. She’s a burnt out cinder of a woman, at the end of her rope, risking being put out on the street by her defense of the offensive tome. Brother Trip is caught in the middle, as he has been his whole life.
The play itself, by acclaimed author Jon Robin Baitz, is well staged by director Joe Mantello. But the dialogue becomes repetitious, and the characters seems to circle each other and snipe throughout the evening. The disclosure of how the Wyeths were treated after their scandal by their friends rings true, and explains much of their devotion to the Reagans. But the plotline is thin at best, and even the revelation at the end of the evening will not be a huge shock to any fan of daytime TV. And there’s no explanation at all for the demise of two perfectly vital characters by the time the last scene takes place a mere six years later.
The cast, however, is uniformly superb. This may well be the finest ensemble work seen on Broadway all season. At the center is Rachel Griffiths, who brings to Brooke a combination of fire, fragility, and effortless sensuality. She lets us see why she can’t let go; if she does, her world will spin apart. Quite simply, she never strikes a false note.
Stockard Channing is a knock out. Dressed beautifully in lovely tunics and white pants, she is every inch the chilly Nancy disciple who spends her life holding herself and the rest of the family together. You know everything you need to know about this woman from her perfect coif and the high heels she wears even in her own home. But when she flashes her Elizabeth Taylor eyes and lets go, she blows away everyone on stage.
Stacy Keach, who now looks like a younger, more fit Brian Dennehy, brings an amazing amount of warmth and sympathy to what could have been a rather stock character. Vain, yes, but also self-deprecating; we understand his need to shield and protect his wayward children, and why he’s willing to provide a home for his acid tongued sister-in-law.
Vanity is out of the question here for Judith Light, an actress best known for roles which showcase her beauty and poise. Silda is a mess; cheaply dressed, roots showing in her disheveled hair, needing a drink as much as she needs a home. When she pokes at her sister for not being Jewish enough (who knew?), there’s real venom beneath a jocular façade. Light is even convincing as she sleeps at the edge of the stage while Brooke and Trip debate.
Thomas Sadoski is completely at ease on stage, and ably holds his own with the luminaries around him. His dialogue with Griffiths is especially vivid; yes, this is how siblings talk to each other. Trip is the producer of a reality show called “Jury of Your Peers,” which is mocked throughout the evening. We get the distinct impression that he prefers the judgment of his TV show to that which is endemic in his family.
This production of Other Desert Cities is worth the price of admission to see this brilliant group of actors working together to bring the play to life. I predict that the inherent flaws of the play will clearly be revealed soon enough. As a five character, one set undertaking, it will undoubtedly be done around the country by summer stock troupes and community theater groups comprised of far less talent than what we are seeing here.
Other Desert Cities
Booth Theatre
222 West 45th Street
212-239-6200
Photo credit: Joan Marcus
Michall Jeffers is an accomplished Cultural Journalist. She writes extensively, both in print and online. Her eponymous cable TV show is syndicated throughout the tri-state area, and features celebrity interviews, reviews, and commentary. She is a voting member of Drama Desk, Outer Critics Circle, American Theatre Critics Association, and International Association of Theatre Critics.
