Dressed Up

Ronald Harwood’s The Dresser is revered both for exploiting in an entertaining way the self-contained universe of British theater and for realistically capturing its World War II ambience while also conveying a tale of colorful characters. It’s a thoroughly human story of close relationships, of dedication to art and, finally, of reverence for aging and the act of dying. Harwood’s highly literate script also is peppered with sharp theatrical references and insider humor, which marks the drama as a kind of love letter to the profession. The new ACT I production does Harwood’s work justice, with some heartfelt and finely etched performances under the strong direction of Melissa Bedinger-Hade.

The German blitzkrieg is ravaging England. That doesn’t stop a touring troupe of Shakespearean actors from soldiering on with their repertoire. Unfortunately, their leading man, a veteran thespian known only as “Sir,” has suffered a collapse during the day and is in the hospital, his return for the evening engagement of King Lear uncertain. The situation is cause for concern among the acting company, but especially so for Sir’s wardrobist, a primly proper man named Norman, who’s spent the past 16 years of his life attending to his master’s every need. Adding to the confusion, another cast member has been pinched by the local bobbies for a homosexual offense.

Sir eventually shows up, but in a bad state—stressed out by doctors, emotionally distraught, seemingly disoriented and fairly certain he’ll be unable to enact the role of Lear for the 227th time. “I want a tranquil senility,” he moans agitatedly between his poignant crying jags.

Dutifully—and with desperation—Norman takes control, soothing Sir’s jagged nerves, coaxing him out of his panic and slowly but surely helping him prepare costume and makeup (a process that’s momentarily undermined when the spacy Sir, already struggling to remember his lines, starts to apply black greasepaint for a different classic role, that of Othello).

In what seems like a minor miracle, Sir returns to form enough to interact with his leading lady (who’s also his real-life girlfriend, affectionately known as “Pussy”); reassure his longtime stage manager that he’s fit for service; remind an understudy that he won’t be receiving extra wages for filling in for the wayward actor who’s in police custody; and even flirt with a wide-eyed, stage-struck ingenue (apparently a regular occurrence).

Of course it’s not as easy as all that, and without Norman’s constant reassurances and psychological parlor tricks, the neurotic and clearly failing Sir would never make it. Indeed, he does so, but just barely, and Act 2 gives us a behind-the-scenes view of the tenuous but ultimately triumphant actor, wringing every ounce of bombastic power out of the Bard’s famous tragedy.

How the theater company operates with Sir at its center is a general theme here, but the play’s chief preoccupation is the relationship between Sir and Norman, which is closer to husband and wife than anything else. Norman may be servile in his role, but like any doting, loyal helpmeet, he is privy to special intimacies and holds his own rare influence over his superior. Theirs is a symbiotic relationship, which in effect reaches consummation every time the curtain successfully rings down.

Michael Roark as Norman and Dan McGeachy as Sir represent splendid casting choices, and it is their committed and loving portrayals that carry this fairly lengthy production to its satisfyingly bittersweet conclusion. They receive excellent support from Jessica Sparks, as Sir’s zaftig lady friend, herself getting too long in the tooth to continue playing the role of the youthful Cordelia; from Debi Shinners, as Madge, the stage manager who’s loved Sir from afar for 20 years and suffered in silence; and from Leanne Kolnick, who’s perky and playful as the young aspiring actress looking for more exposure. Seamus Frawley and Billy Rosenberg also do nicely with their brief cameos.

In addition to staging her players with competence, director Bedinger-Hade typically takes a firm hand in the production’s technical aspects, which here include complementary period costumes and an effective set split between dressing room and backstage area. The director’s husband, Kirby Hade, deserves special mention as the creator of marvelous, hand-constructed wind and rain sound machines, which are given a lively workout during the big storm scene from Lear.

On the heels of its well-received recent production of Paul Zindel’s Marigolds, ACT I keeps the ball rolling with another worthy effort. The company will ring in the new year with Woody Allen’s Don’t Drink the Water (Jan. 11-26), directed by Melissa Williams.