Who owns the story of your life?
You do, of course, but then . . . your story does intersect with the life stories of others, doesn’t it? Your family, your children, your friends. So, if you decide to write a book or a play about your life, and you include the stories of those other people, haven’t you strayed into telling their story - or at least a piece of it?
Do you own those stories, or do they?
And … what if your view of things isn’t the same as those other people? What if, in fact, what your believe to be true about your life, isn’t? What if the ‘whole story’ you grew up believing is, actually, only a slice of a much bigger pie, much of it hidden from you all those years you grew up thinking you knew your own story, thinking you held the right opinions about it, had the right to tell it the way you saw fit?
That is a heapin’ helpin’ of questions for any one play, and at times, Jon Robin Baitz’s ‘Other Desert Cities’ strains beneath the weight of it all. The 2012 Pulitzer winner, largely because of the weight of those questions, has suddenly become the most popular new play in America, with theater companies large and small lining up for their chance to bring it to life. Later this year, not one but TWO companies in Sonoma County will be staging the play at the same time, less than 15 miles from each other, and you can be sure that
other productions are coming soon.
First out of the gate, though, in the North Bay, is the Ross Valley
players, in Marin County. Though deeply flawed and unevenly acted, the power of the play is impossible to deny, and if you don’t want to wait till November, when Main Stage West AND Pegasus Theater tackle the show, this troubled but still frequently engrossing production is worth a look, if only to see what all the fuss is about.
Brook Wyeth is a novelist - and she’s a mess. After stints in a mental
institution and a lifetime of suicidal tendencies, she’s broken a years-
long case of writers clock by producing a memoir. In it, she tells her version of the story of her family, her rich, Republican parents with deep Hollywood connections - they were personal friends of the Reagans - and her infamous older brother, who is the sixties was linked to a U.S. terrorist bombing, after which he killed himself.
Brooke blames her parents for not doing more to save him, and the
imminent publication of her memoir threatens to excavate plenty of
old wounds, old questions, and old secrets. Caught in the middle are
Brooke’s younger brother Trip, and her unstable on-the-wagon aunt
Silda.
Over the course of a very rocky Christmas Eve in Palm Springs, this deeply troubled family will take turns reading the book - and basically coming apart at the seams. There will be plenty of drinking, and lots and lots of yelling.
Too much yelling, actually.
Here’s the thing that director Phoebe Moyer lost a grip on: people who yell are instantly unsympathetic, even when they are in the right.
As an audience, it’s hard to side with Brooke, Trip and Silda because
they often obscure their own positions by arguing them so loudly, while the actors playing the parents - who in some productions would be the villains of the piece - are so even and measured you can’t help but feel a little sorry for them.
Which of course, is part of the playwright’s intention, to have us switch sides throughout the play. But the most powerful moments are when the kids just . . . talk. Quietly. Intimately. Beautifully.
That’s when Ross Valley Player’s production of Other Desert Cities
shows why everyone wants to tell this story. Because some stories,
some secrets, whoever it is who owns them, are just better when they are shared softly, face to face, in a whisper.
Other Desert Cities runs through June 15 at Ross Valley Players,
rossvalleyplayers.com.