“Burn This” — Written by Lanford Wilson. Directed by Daniel Bourque. Presented by Hub Theatre Company of Boston at the BCA Plaza Black Box Theatre, 539 Tremont St., through April 21.
By Shelley A. Sackett
Since Burn This arrived on Broadway in 1987, critics have lamented the same thing – at its core, the play itself is not great. Despite luminary-filled casts (including John Malkovich, Adam Driver, and Edward Norton), the play never garnered the kind of accolades awarded to Wilson’s other works, such as Talley’s Folly (Pulitzer Prize), Hot L Baltimore (Obie), and Fifth of July.
Unfortunately, despite very good direction and standout performances, the underlying over-150-minute play (one intermission) remains at the core of the problem with Hub Theatre Company’s new production.
This is not to say it isn’t worth seeing. Wilson is renowned as a playwright of unparalleled sensitivity, wisdom, and craftsmanship, and his signature style shines through. Just be prepared for a long evening with many pregnant pauses.
The premise is similar to many of Wilson’s other works that deal with family, homosexuality, estrangement, and friendship. The play begins in a Manhattan loft apartment shortly after the funeral of Robbie, a young, gay dancer who drowned in a boating accident with his lover Dom. Robbie’s roommates, his sensitive dance partner and choreographer Anna (played by a standout Kiki Samko) and wisecracking, gay advertising executive Larry (a wonderfully comedic and compassionate Steve Auger) are debriefing after attending the funeral in Robbie’s working-class hometown.
Both are disoriented by how little they knew about their friend, whom they clearly adored and miss. They are even more dismayed by how little his family knew about Robbie. “They never even saw him dance,” Anna repeatedly chants. The early, easy banter between these two is among the most enjoyable moments of the play. Their rapport, sharp irony, and honesty shape fast-paced and engaging dialogue. It’s as if we in the audience are flies on the wall of a very exclusive club.
Soon, rich boy and science-fiction screenwriter Burton, Anna’s longtime lover (Tim Hoover), arrives, and the conversation swings from Robbie to creating extraordinary works of art and “reaching beyond the sun.” The play’s title, in fact, comes from something he says about art: ”Make it personal, tell the truth and then write ‘Burn this’ on the bottom,” he says.
Burton, we learn, has proposed many times to Anna, who is happy to live in the netherworld between dating and commitment. Given the sparkles Anna emanates and Burton’s opacity, it’s hard to blame her. (It doesn’t help that there seems to be zero chemistry between Samko and Hoover).
All three characters claim to feel deeply, but their emotions smolder beneath a thick veneer of isolation, self-sufficiency, and snarky repartees.
With the second scene and the eruptive arrival of Pale, Robbie’s cocaine-snorting, hyperactive restaurant manager brother (a volatile and charismatic Victor L. Shopov), the atmosphere in the apartment quickly changes from defensive introspection to offensive self-preservation. Pale bears the match that will ignite the others and is on a mission to burn down the house.
He has shown up in the middle of the night, unannounced, to retrieve his brother’s things. He is high as a kite, with an air of danger and bad-boy sex appeal. He wields a pistol but worries about a crease in his Armani-style suit. He is Stanley Kowalski on steroids, and Anna, for all the dispassion she exhibits with Burton, responds like a ripe-for-the-picking Stella.
Pale, too, is grieving for his brother and himself. Caught between anger and guilt, he is a whirling dervish of uncontrolled and uncontrollable emotion and physicality. His primal scream unleashes a motherlode of emotion. Anna tells him that he scares her, but it’s clear he also thrills her. He has aroused something long deferred.
These four spend the rest of the play sorting out their relationships with themselves and each other while dealing with the fact that they didn’t really know the Robbie they all so desperately loved. What does that say about who they are? Who they aren’t? Does anyone ever really know another or really let another know them?
Larry is both the least and most stable, relying on the protection of his sense of humor but willing to open up when he feels safe. (The scene between him and Burton is one of the play’s most touching and intimate).
Anna and Pale are the most interesting dyad, circling each other and then zooming in and out of contact. They have awakened something deep and important in each other, something neither has ever felt before. Pale may be reckless, but he is no fool when it comes to love. He recognizes the gift he has been given and is willing to take a chance.
Anna may talk the independent talk, but when it comes to walking the walk, she retreats under the blanket. She goes so far as to acknowledge her feelings for Pale in her choreography but is unwilling to act on them. Sending him away preserves her bubble while nurturing a deep longing and regret that fuels her isolation and artistic career.
While the pacing could be nudged a bit, the production is true to the play, and the actors do a fine job. Samko is terrific as Anna. She embodies the character with a naturalness that belies her acting. Likewise, Auger does the best he can with Larry, who is written as such a stereotype as to become, from time to time, a two-dimensional stand-up comedic caricature. Auger brings a warmth and vulnerability that adds that third dimension.
Shopov is the magnetic center of the play’s motor. He personifies life lived large and is as unpolished and raw as the others are urbane and glib. Although he demands attention in every scene he’s in, Shopov isn’t showboating; he’s just playing Pale as Pale would play Pale.
Yet, he is most effective when he switches from tough guy Hyde to reveal his inner, softer Jekyll. Shopov changes more than his voice and gestures; his entire persona shifts from a nose-thumping, dangerous, tough guy to a sensitive little boy who craves approval and affection.
As in his other works, Wilson offers sociopolitical observation and commentary, which at times feel dated and like unnecessary padding in an already too-long work. Likewise, the repeated back-and-forth between Pale and Anna dilutes the gravitas of their coupling while also adding unneeded minutes.
Nonetheless, and despite its length, Burn This is worth seeing both for its excellent cast and intriguing ideas. Wilson was indeed a maestro of plumbing such subjects as disconnectedness, the purpose of life, and the pyrotechnics of relationships, and his audiences will always leave with their perspectives just a little broadened. For more information and tickets, go to: http://www.hubtheatreboston.org/
