Review: ‘Bright Star’
Caril Jennings’ take on the toe-tapping, joyous bluegrass musical now playing at Terrace Plaza Playhouse through Nov. 14
Theater Review
Press photos for Terrace Plaza Playhouse’s “Bright Star.” Provided
Written and composed by Steve Martin and Edie Brickell
Director, Bryant Larsen
Choreographer, Kaylee Wheeler
Musical Director, Brooks Teeples
Oct. 9 - Nov. 14
99 4700 S, Washington Terrace, UT 84405
(801) 393-0070
Terrace Plaza Playhouse.com
I loved this fairly new musical the minute they started playing bluegrass. By the time square dancing is called (right off the top), I was tapping my foot and trying not to weep for joy. Okay, I enjoyed every one of those cathartic tears. It’s been a while since I’ve heard bluegrass, and I have always loved square dancing since we had to learn how at Lakeview Elementary in the mid-1950s.
By the time the storyteller comes out looking lovely and happy, I was delighted when Alice started right off with “If You Knew My Story.” I already know this story has a happy ending through long-suffering love. The trouble starts with young love — literally. She is 16. She loves to dance. She loves Jimmy Ray. There’s moonlight: “Isn’t it wonderful to be here?” And, of course, she pays the price by having a baby.
It follows a time-honored patriarchal way of dealing with women’s issues: throw them out the window, off the bridge, from the train, or into the river. In this ancient story played out in the mountains of North Carolina, it is Alice’s baby in a satchel, floating down the river into the hapless hands of an old man. He and his wife raise the child to a fine young man, Billy, who comes home from war a hero. For all the fathers, they have various versions of a “Man’s Gotta Do What a Man’s Gotta Do.”
Jimmy Ray is told by his rich father that he threw the baby off a train. Jimmy Ray knows he can never see Alice again to keep her from this tragedy. He goes into business with his father and starts to travel.
Alice receives a scholarship to college and becomes a successful publisher of a famous big city press, bringing Southern Writers to the public. She still believes her son has been put up for adoption and checks registries for clues about his life. On a particular trip to town she runs into Jimmy Ray and he finally tells her what he thinks has happened. She is devastated.
Of course, Billy wants to be a writer and takes his work to her publishing house. By a "peculiar" and “familiar” feeling, she is charmed by the young man and gives him a chance. By the time his inevitable success arrives, everyone also discovers that Mother, Father, and Son are finally reunited; they are loved; they are home.
The harmonies of these declarations of love for each other and love for their homes and awe at the beauty of nature and for the wonder of love and, and, and … It is one beautiful thing after another. The music is so evocative, I had a hard time not singing along on some of the repeated choruses — harmonizing would have been so easy, too. We all did finally join in on clapping with the music during the actors’ bows. What fun!
Kudos to sound designer Sheldon Cheshire for another acoustic triumph. He has previously made the monks chant a cathedral to life in “Hunchback.” Here he surrounds the audience in a circle of beautiful voices, words of love, and community. We were embraced by these singers, these words and tunes and harmonies of togetherness at home and the anticipation of brighter days.
Terrace Plaza Playhouse really knows how to send wonderful theatre into our county and state. They are a credit to community building. I want to note that they are the easiest to deal with as a writer because of the diligent work of their public relations person, Bryant Larsen. That is why I am extra pleased to see that he also gets a chance to make theatre himself as the director of this production, and to do it so well. Thank you, Bryant!
I know I say I cry a lot. I do. I don’t try to hide it. I love that theatre brings up thoughts and emotions that I can experience and examine. At my age, almost everything is wondrously miraculous. I can barely believe my eyes. Except when I’m in a theater audience. I believe the art. I’m at home in my home, but I am also home in a theatre audience, or backstage, or the costume shop, or the scene shop.
(If you haven't tried it, you might consider contacting me about Readers Theatre. Send your message to The Ogdenite to get started.)