Reviews & Articles



Speak The Speech, I Pray You   January 2009  (Silent Heroes)

Show Business Weekly  January 2009  (Silent Heroes)

New York Theatre Wire  January 2009  (Silent Heroes)

eljnyc.com  January 2009  (Silent Heroes)

Theatremania.com  January 2009  (Silent Heroes)

new Theatre corps  Janury 2009  (Silent Heroes)

offoffonline  January 2009  (Silent Heroes)

Theatre Scene  January 2009  (Silent Heroes)

Los Angeles Times  December 2007   (Silent Heroes)

BackStage West   December 2007  (Silent Heroes)

Blue Ridge Times-News   August 2007  (Harps & Harmonicas)

asheville.com   August 2007  (Harps & Harmonicas)

Florida Times-Union  March 2006  (Silent Heroes)

Mountain Playhouse 2005 Comedy Playwriting Contest (Harps & Harmonicas)

NYTheatre.com  July 7, 2004   (The August Jinx)

Style Weekly  May 19, 2004  (Silent Heroes)

Potomac Stages    January 31, 2004  (Silent Heroes)

Giving Our "Silent Heroes" Voice   January 16, 2004  (Silent Heroes)

Theatremania.com  August 7, 2002   (Silent Heroes)  
Note:  This isn't really a review - but it is my favorite occurance of my name in print.

Theatremania.com   August 5, 2002   (Silent Heroes)

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette   February 9, 2002  (Silent Heroes)





Silent Heroes
Speak The Speech, I Pray You
Reviews of Broadway, Off-Broadway and Off-Off-Broadway shows and NYC Live Music
Joy Keaton
January 8, 2009

I am not a fan of military drama, just not my thing. But the Roundtable Ensemble does great work and I always like to catch their yearly offering, this year was no different despite the fact that the subject matter isn't my favorite. Because they are a non-profit organization they are only able to mount one full production a year - but what a production Silent Heroes is.

This is the New York priemere of Silent Heroes and it is a true ensemble piece with six wonderful actresses portraying fully realized individuals who are as real and honestly written as I've seen. Playwright Linda Escalera Baggs has done a masterful job of letting us get to know, intimately but without overt sentimentality, the inner workings of military wives.

The year is 1975 and six Marine aviator's wives are gathered after a one of their husbands jet fighters have crashed. Because of radio silence no one knows which of the six has been lost and the women wait as one by one five of their husbands return to the base.

As they wait we learn how they deal with the constant knowledge that every day might be the day they lose their husbands. We learn how they maintain their patriotism and composure, how they raise their children, deal with racism, sexism, domestic abuse, infidelity and a country who is not always as steadfastly pro-military as they, because of their choices, must be.

The writing here is precise and each character well-drawn giving the actors a jumping off point that can only cause them to rise to the ocassion. And they do. Dionne Audain, Julie Jesneck, Kelly Ann Moore, Sarah Saunders, Rosalie Tenseth and Lisa Velten Smith each embody their characters so fully and infuse them with such humanity, realism and humor that you sit back afterwards and say "yes, that is what actors are meant to do".

Adding to the ease with which we can suspend our disbelief are the era-perfect costumes - down to nail polish shades straight out of the '70s - by Kevin Hucke and Nick Francone's appropriately understated and vaguely depressing waiting room set that looks like it might have been lifted right out of a civic building circa '70s - right down to the coffee cups (the same ones my own mother had in the '70s).

Rosemary Andress has kept her characters clearly defined and done a beautiful job creating the feeling that we are being allowed to peek into the private lives of people we would otherwise never know except by their public personas. She makes clever use of an intimate setting and keeps the action moving at a perfect pace.

The beauty of this piece is how we are invited into their lives which despite the trappings of the military and on-base life are not so very unlike our own. Were all military dramas as entrenched in humanity as this one is, I would have become a fan of the genre long ago.


Silent Heroes
Show Business Weekly
Carly Dahlen
January 11, 2009
 

Sarah Saunders and Kelly Ann Moore
Photo by Jim Baldassare



The Purple Heart, the Silver Star and the Medal of Honor are awards that soldiers work toward earning throughout their careers; the more challenging the assignment, the more prestigious the accolade. While bravery on the battlefield wins honors, heroism in the home remains seldom recognized. In her work Silent Heroes, writer Linda Escalera Baggs chronicles bravery on the homefront among a group of military wives waiting for news about their husbands’ safety.

Inspired by a true story, the play takes place in November 1975 at a military base in Beaufort, South Carolina. The wives of six Marine Corps pilots wait together to hear which of their husbands was killed in a jet fighter crash. While they await the grim news, the women have a number of emotionally charged discussions about issues such as domestic abuse, race relations, anti-war demonstrations, and the numerous challenges they face as military wives. The women transcend their various ages, beliefs and backgrounds to support one another in a moment of extreme emotional duress.

This compelling play reveals the difficult and often painful experiences faced by military spouses. Playwright Linda Escalera Baggs presents a number of controversial issues, but addresses each in a thoughtful, compassionate manner. While the script stands strong on its own, the actresses command the story with their extraordinary interpretation of Baggs’s words. Each performer embodies her character with tenacity, capturing not only the idiosyncrasies of each wife’s persona, but also the depths of her struggles as a military spouse. While all of the actresses showcase amazing performances, Kelly Ann Moore and Dionne Audain (who play June and Felicia, respectively), stand out as magnificent artists. Each woman balances her character’s remarkable strength and crushing sorrow, allowing audience members to forget they are watching a play and instead remember that they are witnessing the real pain of military wives as channeled through Moore and Audain.

Baggs’s work serves as a Purple Heart of sorts for the silent heroes gone too often unrecognized: the spouses and families of those serving in the military. In this time of war, Silent Heroes must not be missed.



Don't ask; do tell
New York Theatre Wire
Dorothy Chansky
January 11, 2009


Dionne
Audain
Photo by Jim Baldassare


Here's feminism's dilemma in a nutshell: Is it better to strive for full, gender-blind equality in all realms of public and private life, or is the more purposeful path to work towards recognition of the needs of and prejudices against women in the real life world as it now exists?

Only one character in Linda Escalera Baggs's "Silent Heroes" actually calls herself a feminist, but part of Baggs's point is that the term needs historical situatedness. "Silent Heroes" features six military wives waiting to hear which of their husbands will not be returning from an exercise in which one of their planes was shot down. Something about radio being knocked out has made it impossible for the pilots to communicate either with each other or with home command. It's 1975 on a Marine base in South Carolina.

Roundtable's small-scale production (Theatre 54 seats just sixty) foregrounds the intimacy among the pilot wives. (The practical but cramped and seedy set is by Nick Francone.) As the six wait and worry in close quarters, they reveal the personal secrets hidden behind the code by which they all (except the self-professed feminist) live. That code says that their husbands' ranks are their ranks, too. They toe the line as Americans who salute the flag, dress well in public, and stand by their men. The play is set on the night that tests their mettle as patriots, wives, and friends.

Baggs's script is not subtle. The alpha female crumples in the end. The battered wife screws up the courage to leave her husband, at least for a night. The socialite is wised up to the racism in her daughter's chic private school. The African-American wife confronts her naïve cohort and confesses that she needs the military as much as her husband does. The hard-boiled critic reveals that her heart was broken by her husband fathering a child in Vietnam; more importantly she reveals that she still loves him. The feminist who burned a flag at a Kent State protest finds that she loves her country after all.

"Confess" and "reveal" are the operative words here. The six women wait for the surviving husbands to come back, knowing there will be only five planes and playing a kind of emotional roulette. Baggs maneuvers pairs, trios, and quartets out of the room in fits of pique or the need for the bathroom so that other duos or small groups can have heart-to-hearts.

The pleasure in the production is in the ensemble and solo work of the cast, although half of them were strained and true to stereotypes for the first half hour of the performance I saw. When they settled in, though, they did what actors in domestic realism are supposed to do, which is convey credibility and garner identification and sympathy. (The setting is not literally domestic, but the space and concerns, as in Steel Magnolias are coded female.) The standouts are Sarah Saunders as the avowed feminist and Dionne Audain as the sole, imperfectly integrated, African American who knows she's a token. Saunders, in a spunky performance that finally turns to open-eyed patriotism, believably plays a latter-day hippie who aspires to law school and who fails, until close to the end, to realize that she is married not just to her pilot but to the military itself. Audain's Felicia is an African-American nurse whose dignity is the product of harsh social discipline and also genuine compassion. Both performances slip fluidly from social chat to self-revelatory angst with no seams showing. Director Rosemary Andress orchestrated emotional and physical movement deftly.

This play hardly breaks new ground. (I was reminded of Shirley Lauro's A Piece of My Heart, the "women's" Vietnam play that features five nurses and the effects of serving in country.) But it opens a window on a cohort of women who share the worries but not the social mobility of the wives in The Unit and, as such, is worth its efforts.


Silent Heroes

eljnyc.com
Laurie Lawson
January 15, 2009


Linda Escalera Baggs’ SILENT HEROES is a long overdue story about the invisible and forgotten victims of military life – the families. In a stark room at a Beaufort, SC, airplane hanger, six wives of Marine Corps aviators wait to learn whose husband has died in the line of duty. In a macabre musical chair dance, at the end of the evening one wife will leave without a husband.

Baggs has done a brilliant job of capturing the many facets of life in 1975. The Vietnam War has just ended; “hippies” are turning the culture upside down; racism is finally being questioned; and the class/rank/status of military life is still an inflexible system that must be obeyed. And with the help of a sublime cast, just as brilliant is her depiction of the wives. There are no storybook marriages in this hanger, and as the tension mounts while each wife contemplates becoming a widow, private foibles, fears, and difficulties are exposed. And no matter how quirky the stories and revelations, there is an underlying constant respect for the courage of these spouses. Without parades, medals, ranks or pay raises, they sacrifice on a daily basis, giving up their sense of security so we can maintain ours. SILENT HEROES will bring a tear to your eye and a warmth to your heart.


Not Getting with the Program
Theatremania.com

By Peter Filichia
January 14, 2009

There was a fascinating question asked in the ArtsJournal.com blog last week: Should theaters still distribute paper programs?

A poster asked, “How much information should -- or even can -- be delivered in the form of a traditional, stapled, paper program? Different companies are experimenting with alternative ways of imparting information that might help enrich a theatergoer's experience. Companies are increasingly putting information of this type online, going well beyond the remit of traditional paper-bound program notes.

“The more I think about it,” the poster continued, “the more programs in the traditional sense of the word seem obsolete. I like the idea of enabling audience members to upload podcasts with useful information such as interviews with the lead actor and director to listen to on their way to the theatre, or partnering with local radio to deliver this information over the airwaves. Better still, wouldn't it be great to receive an email from a theater company the morning of the day I'm going to see a play, with all the useful information mentioned above included in it? That way, I could peruse and listen to the program notes on my laptop (Kindle, iPhone, Blackberry or whatever) at my leisure prior to and after attending the play. Upon final analysis, maybe it would be a good thing if paper programs disappeared altogether.”

Josh Ellis, who alerted me to this, wrote, “I'm appalled at the notion. Ecologically, theatrically and financially, I think theatre programs should be the last paper items to go.”

I understand, Josh! You’re not the only one to cherish programs. Come to my apartment, open the kitchen cabinets, and where dishes, bowls and ice buckets are supposed to be, you’ll find only playbills and souvenir booklets, all alphabetically arranged.

On the other hand, I must admit that moviegoers rarely get programs, and they live to tell the tale. Needless to say, programs aren’t provided for TV shows, and viewers know what’s going on. But as for us theatergoers, which of us hasn’t been glad to have a program in our hands when we see an actor on stage, can’t place him, delve into the program, and soon read the information that makes us say, “Oh, that’s right! Now I remember!" No, you didn’t remember; you needed the program to remind you.

Who won’t admit to enjoying a program when what’s happening on-stage is less than compelling? If enough light is coming from the stage, we can plunge into the program and potentially find something more interesting. For that matter, how many times during a particularly dull musical do we open the program to count how many songs are left for us to endure? These practices will go by the wayside if programs are eliminated.

When I came home last night after seeing a new play called Silent Heroes, I immediately went to the “S” cabinet to file its program. I found that it would rest between my two Sight Unseen programs and a Silk Stockings playbill from its Boston tryout. Of the former show, I reminisced that Laura Linney played the supporting role in the first MTC production off-Broadway, and then played the lead in the second MTC production on Broadway. The program was a definite reminder of how far talent can go in a short period of time.

How did I get a Silk Stockings program, given that the 1955 musical was before my theatergoing time? Ah, how well I remember that day in 1965 when I was supposed to be in a Northeastern University class, but that large pile of old playbills in a used bookstore kept me from it. That pile also yielded programs for the Boston tryouts of The Pajama Game, Damn Yankees, and – yes – even Ankles Aweigh. They still live in my house.

Now I open the Silk Stockings playbill and see that for all the chaos this Cole Porter musical show went through in many tryout cities, the tunestack in Boston was identical to what it would be on Broadway a month later. I check the cast list to see who was playing Janice Dayton, the role that went through actresses the way Guido Contini did. Here, it was Yvonne Adair, who would give way to Gretchen Wyler by the time the show showed up at our Shubert.

Who else was in the cast? Among the 13 dancers was one Onna White, in her last performing role before turning to choreograph such hits as The Music Man and Mame, such non-hits as Whoop-Up, and plenty of others in between. I turn the page, and see that the “Asst. to Ms. Ballard” – meaning Lucinda, the costume designer – is Florence Klotz, who would go on to costume glory as on through the seasons she sailed.

On the opposite page is an ad for Tallulah Bankhead, coming to the Shubert the following week in a comedy called Dear Charles. An orchestra seat would cost $4.40, while a perch in the second balcony (as the balcony was called then) would run $1.65. But Broadway was much more expensive, as is witnessed by the ad for The Boy Friend, included in this program because it too was sponsored by the Silk Stockings producers. At the Royale (now the Jacobs), the prices started at a steeper $1.75 for a seat in the balcony (what is today called the mezzanine), and a whopping $6.90 for an orchestra seat -- at least at evening performances; a Wednesday matinee, though, would only set back a theatergoer $4.05.

Before I file Silent Heroes, which will run at Theatre 54 till January 24, I take one more look at the modest four-page program. Linda Escalera Baggs’ excellent drama tells of true Steel Magnolias: six wives of Marine fighter pilots. At the outset of the play set in 1975, all are anxiously waiting to hear which pilot has just been killed when his plane crashed and became a fireball. The women wait and wait, and as each plane arrives, the younger wives immediately rush to the window to see who’s getting off the plane, while the older wives sit quietly; they’ve been through this before. The playwright is wonderfully fair in giving each character a point-of-view that makes us alternate between oh-she’s-right and oh-she’s-wrong – just the way we feel about full-blooded, three-dimensional people we meet in real life.

Baggs offers excellent orchestration of character, and the six extraordinary actresses get each nuance. Dionne Audain is Felicia, the African-American who finds the military one of the few ways she can be on equal footing with whites. Julie Jesmeck is Patsy, about to deliver her fourth child, which she believes is reason enough not to leave her physically abusive husband. Kelly Ann Moore is June, who’s already had one husband killed, and hopes that dire history won’t repeat itself. Sarah Saunders is Miranda, the youngest who was at Kent State when the slaying of students occurred, and was wildly anti-militant until she met her husband when he was in mufti, falling in love with him before she learned he was a Marine. Lisa Velten Smith is Kitty, the Southern belle with the less-than-refined mouth. Rosalie Tenseth is Eleanor, who’s still enduring the legacy of her husband’s serving in Vietnam. As for Rosemary Andress’ direction, it is taut and full of suspense. She makes sure that your heart steadily makes its way to your mouth.

So as I file away the Silent Heroes program, I wonder if one day I’ll file another playbill next to it, spy Silent Heroes, open it, and be delightfully surprised to say, “Oh, look! This is when I first caught Dionne Audain! Oh! Look at Julie Jesneck when she was just starting out! Oh, wow – Sarah Saunders was in it, too?!”

However, years from now, would I be able to get any of this from a podcast “program” or an Internet e-blast that had been sent out the morning I was to see the show?

Nevertheless, I understand that the trees from which paper comes are at a premium and must be protected. After reading this ArtsJournal.com item, I now know that programs as we know them have suddenly become an endangered species. The day will come, I’m sure, when we won’t have programs, and the day will soon come after that when today’s not-yet-born theatergoers will attend a show, not receive them, not expect them -- and not feel they’ve missed anything.

But they will have.



A solid script, wonderful performances and a moving premise make Silent Heroes a show worth breaking the silence for.
new Theatre corps
Cindy Pierre
January 11, 2009



Lisa Velten Smith and Sarah Saunders
Photo by Jim Baldassare



In Linda Escalera Baggs's powerful Silent Heroes, Miranda (Sarah Saunders), a flag-burning, Vietnam War protesting, 70s love-promoting assertive woman turned Marine wife, can scarcely believe the predicament she's in. Her dreams of becoming a lawyer and living the unsheltered life are now squandered by her husband's aviator ones. Even worse, she's getting instruction on Marine base life by a gaggle of Stepford wives that form her dysfunctional circle.

Tonight, 1975, it’s a crash course on what to expect, for they have gathered on Nick Francone's tight, realistically-furnished tarmac waiting room to discover the identity of a fighter pilot that recently crashed and burned. These women don’t say much that’s positive about being a Marine Corps aviator’s wife, and why should they? Pregnant and battered Patsy (Julie Jesneck), hard-edged Eleanor (Rosalie Tenseth), “stay out of it” Kitty (Lisa Velten Smith), nurse and sole African-American Felicia (Dionne Audain) and the stoic leader June (Kelly Ann Moore) all know better.

Baggs's crafty, cheeky, and exciting dialogue gives the cast great material to work with; the stellar performances give Baggs’s play something to live for. With characters that are as different as night and day, there's always something thrilling, intellectually stimulating, compelling, or a combination of the three going on. This helps Silent Heroes to smoothly cover a wide spectrum of issues (Vietnam babies to civil rights) in an effortless, wonderful way. It also allows for quick shifts in mood: one minute, these strong women facetiously recite the Corps mantra, the next, they’re launching into an impassioned monologue about the need for patriotism. And when the moment is still and the hysteria dies down, Jonathan Sanborn's chilling aircraft sound effects reminds the audience of the premise.

Aside from Rosemary Andress’s questionable blocking (characters occasionally speak with their back to the audience or obstruct sightlines), Silent Heroes is nearly flawless. These women may not be on the frontline, but their loyalty to the U.S. Flag and their husbands is of the utmost importance. Silent Heroes is a portrait of valiance at its best, unsung in its contribution, but loud and memorable just the same.


A Pledge of Allegiance
offoffonline
Laura Palotie
January 10, 2009


Julie Jesneck, Dionne Audain, Sarah Saunders and Lisa Velten Smith
Photo by Jim Baldassare

    
‘Silent’ is the description collectively assigned to the cast of characters in Linda Escalera Baggs’ play about military wives, but throughout its seventy-five minute running time, it was the word ‘trapped’ that most frequently snuck its way onto my notepad. The play’s cast of women, each of whom reveal their own unsettling secrets as they wait for their husbands’ fighter jets to return home, appear to be confined to the point of hopelessness—inside their marriages, inside lives that lack grounding and agency, and inside the paradigms of the small, unchanging set.

The premise of Silent Heroes is rich with tension: one of six fighter planes has crashed just moments before the play opens, but it’s not yet clear whose husband has perished in the accident. Bracing for heartbreak, the group collects into an underground room at the base to wait. A sense of dutiful camaraderie is obvious between the six women, but each of their attempts to remain calm in the face of death causes underlying conflicts within the group to burst onto the surface. In a situation such as this, is it possible to not secretly wish for the death of a friend’s husband?

Silent Heroes is a success, thanks largely to its affecting premise, its bouncy, entertaining dialogue and its strong performances. Baggs’ attempt to give all six women a moment to share their individual traumas feels too calculated at times, but outstanding performances across the board allow the narrative to maintain its momentum.

Set in the 1970s, shortly after the end of the Vietnam War, Silent Heroes brings a notably diverse group of individuals onto the stage, highlighting the circumstantial quality of their bond. Be it not for the fact that their husbands are pilots, these women, different in backgrounds, ages and worldviews, would have been unlikely to have established such an intimate rapport with one another.

The most obvious standout from the group is young Miranda (Sarah Saunders), whose politically rebellious background is a topic of debate and discomfort within the group. Patsy (Julie Jesneck), meanwhile, is quickly established as the wife with the most outward and immediate struggles—she’s the only wife not looking forward to her husband’s return. Jesneck’s performance is difficult to watch, but for all the right reasons; her instinct to make excuses for her aggression-prone husband and avoid eye contact as she explains her choices is likely to ring authentic to anyone who has ever confronted a friend in an abusive relationship.

Rosalie Tenseth as Eleanor, the most outspoken member of the group, is also a joy to watch and delivers the funniest lines of the production, but it’s Kelly Ann Moore as her best friend June who is most likely to inspire chills in her audience. Because she is the most nurturing and least confrontational member of this collective, her eventual burst of anger is genuinely shocking, and Moore delivers this punch with a fearless sense of emotional wisdom. It’s a controlled performance that’s difficult to shake.

The set, designed by Nick Francone, adds to the necessary sense of claustrophobia. Furnished with a worn couch, a modest coffee station and photos of soldiers on the back wall, the room is appropriately void of spirit. During the second half of the play, when the six characters take turns stepping onto a chair and peering through a small, rectangular window near the ceiling, their sense of entrapment becomes all the more pronounced. The fate of their invisible husbands will define their destinies, and one gets the sense that ‘Silent Heroes’ is, quite literally, their only moment in the spotlight.



Silent Heroes
Theatre Scene
Eugene Paul
January 11, 2009




Rosalie Tenseth, Kelly Ann Moore, Dionne Audain, Sarah Saunders and Lisa Velten Smith
Photo by Jim Baldassare



In 1975, a Marine Corps jet fighter crashed during a night training exercise of an American aircraft carrier off the Carolina coast. Six pilots engaged in the exercise were reported missing. Six wives came to their regular waiting space, the ready room at operations in Beaufort, at 2 a.m. All they knew was that one of their husbands had died but the Corps offered no further information until all pilots remaining had returned. Most of the women, all officers’ wives, had been through this unique torture before, their special kind of waiting achingly familiar. Not Miranda, the youngest of them, newly out of college, where she’d been caught in her own unique torture: being shot at by American soldiers. The college was Kent.

All the older wives are soberly, neatly dressed, here in the middle of the night. Miranda has thrown
on well worn hippie garb and is castigated for it, on more than one level. Today, we hardly know what they’re fussing about. 1975 seems a million years away.
Silent Heroes, a classically crafted, “well made” play, expertly fashioned and focused on an alternate view of an area of the American experience we have deemed especially American: the iconic, exalted role of the dedicated U.S. Marine whose code, Duty, Honor, Country, immutable, unchanging, unquestionable, is the bedrock of belief and behavior not only for the men in the Service but inevitably, their wives. That was 1975.

Playwright Linda Escalera Baggs means to demonstrate how deeply that code has burned into the women who wait. They also serve. And in her continually absorbing play she has unintentionally, inadvertently jolted this reviewer into thinking the unthinkable: Duty? Yes. Honor? Yes. Both comprehensible. Country? Country? It is out of context. It is a construct of totally different material. It is, in fact, material, whereas duty and honor, implanted, ingrained philosophies call for behaviors in which men die. In 1975. In 2009, both men and women die for the code and die still for country. But it is clear that for these women in 1975, these men are their countries, their imperfect, obsessed men whose own loyalties are not to duty, honor, country first but to the inexpressible joy of the freedom and danger and beauty of flying. They break the bounds of earth, they fly in body, mind, spirit. Nothing compares. And their women know it. And live with it.
Their women. Their wives. Not their spouses, not their partners. Today, we still don’t know of any gay pilots, men or women. In 1975, Women’s Lib was burgeoning. Not gay lib. The code was restricted, unyielding. These women were part of it. And during the long night of waiting for someone’s sorrow, they bind together again in spite of their mundane, hidden lives of abuse and infidelity. They bear the common bond of second place.

Not Miranda. She’s half their age, she’s a flower child still not wilted. She and her pilot husband are going to get out of this and live! If her husband has not already traded his life for the ineffable: flying is the ultimate in living, better than duty, better than honor and country, better than sex. And the women know it. Despite all, the waiting and the unintended revelations bind them to each other, to the Corps, to their perfect, imperfect men in spite of doubt, in spite of fear, in spite of pain – and waiting. It’s their duty, their honor, and these men, their country. Playwright Baggs has unintentionally raised bigger questions. Or is it intentional? What is the code? And why? And what for? Who is really served? The questions compound. The play elevates discussion in the most vital of ways: it relates to our mores, our lives.
Director Rosemary Andress has cast her company – for they are a company; it is essential to the telling of the play – so acutely it’s hard to imagine other actors in these roles. They are all astonishingly good, astonishing because director Andress has led them into strict adherence of the playwright’s cadences and yet they all convey their differing humanities beautifully in spite of being so controlled. There is no latitude for spontaneity yet we do not miss it; we are in a controlled environment of thought, of emotion. Break outs aren’t allowed. Of course, they happen; this is a splendidly calculated production. I admired all the participants, Dionne Audain, Kelly Ann Moore, Julie Jesneck, Sarah Saunders, Rosalie Tenseth, Lisa Velten Smith. I admired Kevin Hucke’s costumes, Jonathan Sanborn’s music and sound design, Nick Francone’s scenics. And I’ll think about these new thoughts for a long, long time.


A Poignant Tribute To 'Heroes'
LA Times
David C. Nichols
LA Times Recommended
December 7, 2007

The unsung valor of the military spouse informs "Silent Heroes" at Gardner Stages, the second production by VetStage Foundation. If the schematics of Linda Escalera Baggs' extended one-act about six Marine aviator wives in 1975 verge on the old-fashioned, its subject could scarcely be more timely.

Set in the "ready room" of a Marine Corps Air Station, "Silent Heroes" quickly establishes its premise as the wives anxiously gather to learn which one of their pilot husbands isn't returning. During their vigil, they bicker and bond through confessions that encompass abuse, adultery, racism and pacifism. By the open-ended fade-out, it's clear that, as valiant as U.S. servicemen unquestionably are, their women, who hold together family, home and each other, are just as courageous.

Vietnam-era details apart, "Silent Heroes" most resembles the Hollywood films of World War II. Its structure, with revelations interrupted by the overhead roar of another safely landing plane, is more serviceable than profound. Yet Baggs has a knack for turning jargon and issues into dialogue and an eye for behavioral specifics, and director Carmen Melito gradually draws the vital message into firm focus.

Her proficient players pack a lingering punch, at ease with military terms and finding laughs through the tears. Eileen Grubba's cynic-with-a-secret and Jane Hajduk's group leader are contrasts in committed technique, while Nadege August gives her socially isolated nurse galvanic power. Heather Simon underpins the by-the-book pragmatist with palpable tension, and any gaucherie in Leslie Ann Thompson's pregnant enabler and Cynthia Rose Hall's defiant feminist is wholly apt.

Obviously, veterans and their families should not miss "Silent Heroes." Open-minded civilians could learn something valuable from the essential integrity of this deeply felt tribute.



Silent Heroes

BackStage West
Critic's Pick
By Madeleine Shaner
December 05, 2007


The silent heroes of the title finally find their voices in Linda Escalera Baggs' tough-minded take on the heartbreaks and hardships suffered by the wives of modern warriors, specifically the U.S. Marines. Having grown up a Marine brat, the playwright obviously knows whereof she speaks, although the play is a definite eye-opener for the rest of us.

It's 1975, and six wives of Marine aviators have been summoned to a Marine air base because one of their husbands' planes has crashed, but no one knows which one. The women, five of them veteran service wives, are called on to play a waiting game. Tension is high and tempers are frayed, more so because the youngest, Miranda (swe etly naive Cynthia Rose Hall), new to their group, was involved in anti-war activities at Kent State in 1970, putting her patriotism in question. The Marine wives are loyal to the core, and to the Corps, even though, as the play progresses, unacceptable truths surface in each of the women's marriages.

Using each woman as poster child for a specific war-wives' syndrome, the argument turns on domestic violence and spousal abuse (Kitty, a searingly fine Heather Simon), serial infidelity (Eleanor, a defensively prickly Eileen Grubba), silent and not so silent racism in the Corps (Felicia, feisty fireball Nadege August), and the unequal treatment of women and the burden of keeping the family together (Patsy, the stately Leslie Ann Thompson). June (Jane Hajduk in cool control), as a woman who has lost one husband to a plane crash yet has married another pilot, tries to hold the group together as they are collectively falling apart. Despite what seems like ann oyingly petty bickering at the story's start, the play and the characters become very real and disturbing as the actors find their way into their roles, under the sure hand of director Carmen Milito.

The issues that fire the women sometimes seem a bit dated, until one remembers the dateline is 1975, and we're in the middle of yet another war. Together, this promising group makes you think as well as feel, which is where every good play should take you.




Harps and Harmonicas: Laugh-out-loud theatre
By Kitty Turner
Special to the Times-News
August 23. 2007

Shrieks of laughter greeted Harps and Harmonicas at the Flat Rock Playhouse on opening night, as Barbara Bradshaw as Cynthia and Paige Posey as Maddy traveled from New England to Chicago in a generation-gap road trip. A big map charted the duo's sometimes slow progress (100 miles a day?) aided by road music from the baby boomer generation (Teach Your Children, Why Doesn't Anyone Stay in One Place Anymore, It's My Life, Denim Blue, etc.)

The trip gets started when Cynthia's husband dies and an antique harp, that he stored at his office, must be delivered to Cynthia's daughter Kate (or Mary Katherine as Cynthia insists on calling her) in Chicago. A plan is hatched between Kate (Amy Elizabeth Jones) and her best friend, Maddie, to rent a van and drive the harp to Chicago with Cynthia in tow in order to take her mind off her recent loss. However, Kate drops out for family reasons and leaves her best friend to cope with her mother.

At the first stop Maddie calls Kate and says "I've known you forever -- how come I didn't know she was like this?" Kate replies that Cynthia still thought of Maddie as company and was on her best behavior, but now she's been reduced to family status -- and look out!

The audience doesn't see the trip itself, only the scenes in the motel rooms at the end of each horrendous day. The first day -- which doesn't get them out of Connecticut -- Cynthia reveals her cleaning fanaticism, with a spray bottle of Lysol permanently attached to her hand. She also cites the "60 Minutes" story on the things found on motel/hotel bedspreads, chairs and carpeting, which becomes a running joke. Cynthia has her own bedspread and pillow, which she gets out every night to replace the germ-carrying ones provided by the motel. Maddie complains by phone to Kate, who is tickled that her friend can now empathize with her complaints. They joke about lunch at Cracker Barrel -- "45 minutes for lunch, three hours in the gift shop."

But Cynthia also opens up to Maddie and tells her the story of how she met her husband, on a ferry crossing Narragansatt Bay. Philip (Michael Edwards) steps from the wings to reenact the romance as Cynthia explains that she promised him that day, when they first met, to never marry anyone else. Maddie is touched, and admits that her boyfriend Stu (Brian Robinson), is her "harp," the one person that is perfect for her, but won't explain why she won't marry him.

The second day finds the odd couple still in Connecticut -- and much less friendly with each other. When Maddie remarks that she's had to play a lot of harmonicas to find her harp, Stu, Cynthia immediately wants to know how many. Maddie, refuses to answer and they begin to bicker until Maddie locks herself in the bathroom. When Kate calls on Maddie's cellphone Cynthia gingerly answers (she's convinced cellphones result in brain tumors) and passes the phone to Maddie in the bathroom -- and then holds a glass against the door to try to listen to the conversation.

As the trip continues and the relationship grows more acrimonious, the backgrounds of the characters emerge. Cynthia, who has never so much as kissed a man who wasn't her husband, must now face life alone, and Maddie, who has grown up in the school of hard knocks, has trouble trusting herself or anyone else. Each has a relationship with Kate, and through Kate with each other, but is that enough?

By the time they reach Pennsylvania they are barely speaking, and things get a little raunchy when Cynthia accuses Maddie of using her breasts to get them a room. That leads to a discussion of euphemisms (knockers, boobs, rack, etc.) and underwear, that might raise the eyebrows of a few viewers.

The second act has some rather sentimental scenes, as Maddie's problem is resolved and Kate becomes jealous of her friend's relationship with her mother, but overall this is a laugh-out-loud theater experience in which all the participants are outstanding, although Barbara Bradshaw deserves special mention as the fussy but romantic Cynthia who finds her inner soul in the final scene.



Women Trade Secrets in Harps and Harmonicas at Flat Rock Playhouse  
asheville.com
August 2007


Flat Rock Playhouse presents Harps and Harmonicas, a new comedy about mothers, daughters and strange bedfellows onstage August 22 through September 2. What happens when your husband of 41 years - the only man you've ever dated or kissed - dies? If you're Cynthia, you embark on a road trip with your daughter's best friend and suddenly find yourself a bit over your head in a world you never really knew existed. The road proves easier to negotiate than the generation gap between the women. Packed with laughter, quirky discoveries, revealing clashes of temper and reluctant moments of acceptance, Harps and Harmonicas tells a humorous story familiar to anyone who has survived the idiosyncrasies of the generations before and after them.

When Kate inherits a large concert harp, her best friend Maddie offers to accompany Kate’s mother, Cynthia, on a driving trip to Connecticut in order to deliver the harp to back to Chicago. Cynthia is recently widowed. She is very sheltered, a little neurotic, and still living by the code of 1950’s. Maddie speaks her mind and is very much a woman of today. Kate is Cynthia’s daughter. She is not quite on the cutting edge as her best friend Maddie, however she is a veteran of clashes with her mother.

Cynthia and Maddie are an odd couple and worlds collide as they set out on this enlightening trip. As the duo hit the road, they go from hotel room to hotel room and they keep a running dialogue with Kate via telephone. Over the course of several nights, the women drift into conversations about the secrets of life, past loves, indiscretions, sexy lingerie and hidden tattoos as the three women define and redefine themselves and their relationships with each other.

Harps and Harmonicas was penned by Linda Escalera Baggs of Richmond, Va and won the 2005 Mountain Playhouse International Comedy Playwriting Contest, where the script was also produced as a world premiere in 2006. Baggs has written one other full-length play, Silent Heroes (also an award winner), and numerous short plays to complement the curriculum of kindergarten through fourth grade. She is a member of The Dramatists Guild of America, Inc., Chicago Dramatists and the International Society of Women Playwrights.

Perhaps one of the constant challenges of any playwright is to create living, breathing characters that don't appear to be stereotypical or trite - but actually behave in their own unique ways. Early reviews revealed that what distinguished Harps and Harmonicas is that the language of the play seemed was natural, not contrived or theatrical, Baggs’ story reveals a maturity in writing, with the characters offering their own unique perspectives on life. The dialogue sparkles with wit and charm, yet maintains an essential believability that draws you into the story, because you're watching real people interacting.

Harps and Harmonicas is a very funny, enlightening and revealing story of women of different ages learning from each other. Mothers, daughters and best friend will recognize themselves in the story. A stellar cast of actors has been assembled for Harps and Harmonicas: Barbara Bradshaw plays Cynthia; Amy Elizabeth Jones plays her daughter Kate; and Paige Posey plays best friend Maddie. Veteran performers Michael Edwards and Brian Robinson play a variety of male characters who impact the women’s world. The production is directed by Angie Flynn-McIver, the Producing Director of NC Stage Company in Asheville.



Let's hear it for Theatre Jacksonville's 'Silent Heroes'

March 2006
By ANGELA DRYDEN
The Times-Union

In times of war and uncertainty, many movies, books and plays result, often from the perspective of those doing the fighting. But playwright Linda Escalera Baggs has brought a much-needed story to the stage for those who are left behind, a story many will be able to relate to, especially wives who are left waiting and wondering.


Silent Heroes, a one-act play set at a South Carolina Marine Corps air station in 1975, delves into the tense waiting period six pilots' wives are forced into following news that one of the Marines' planes has crashed.

"How much longer do we have to wait?" is the question that rings throughout the play. It's a question that, in a military town such as Jacksonville, is likely to speak to many in the community.

The central focus of the play is strongly executed through director Amy Johnson O'Connor, who reveals the wives' obstacles, fears, taxing optimism and secrets. The set, a room designated as a waiting room for pilots, which doubles as a waiting room for the wives, is an authentic replica and does a nice job of putting the audience into the drama.

What was distracting during the play (aside from the audience members who were eating during the performance and the cell phone that went off opening night) was the dialogue.

For a play set in a time of the civil rights and women's liberation movements, the dialogue lacks originality at times and leaves the actors spouting banalities such as "Love it or leave it," "It could've been worse" and "We're all we have."

The performances were strongest when the actors were able to step out of playing the characters and actually become them, portraying the obstacles and conflicts of wanting the other wives' husbands to return, while each silently hopes her husband will be one of the five to greet her on the tarmac.

We get glimpses of inner conflict and contradiction in each character as the play goes on, giving them depth. The character of Miranda, played by Erin Searcy, is the youngest of the wives. She seems to be a stalwart for women's rights, but after deeper insight into her character, she relates the period of waiting for her husband to being in the Miss America pageant, waiting to find out who will be crowned. No beauty queen wants to be the runner-up, no matter how much they like the other contestants. But in this case, no one wants to be the last one standing.

Silent Heroes is an experience worth waiting through, even for those not exposed to military life. Anyone who has had to wait on something beyond his or her control will be able to connect with the story.


Mountain Playhouse, 2005 Comedy Playwriting Contest


The long awaited reading of the winner of the 2004 Mountain Playhouse International Comedy Playwriting Contest took place Sunday evening, September 11, 2005 at the Mountain Playhouse . . . and, it was well worth the wait. Linda Escalera Bagg's winning play was so well received by the audience and the Gristmill Productions Board of Directors that the Board voted to present the world premiere of the play during the 2006 season. The Mountain Playhouse has the exclusive rights to produce the play in 2006. In 2007, the 11 other CORST (Council of Resident Stock Theatres) theaters will have the first opportunity to produce the play; then, in 2008, the play will be available for other theaters to produce.

Jurors for the contest lauded the dialogue and strong character development setting Harps and Harmonicas apart from the competition. Mountain Playhouse actor (and English professor at Allegany College of Maryland), Matt Marafino, spent about a month screening the 93 entries in the 2004-2005 contest, reading an average of three scripts per day. Harps and Harmonicas was one of the first plays he read and it immediately stood out as a potential winner.

“What distinguished Harps and Harmonicas was that the language of the play seemed natural, not contrived or theatrical,” said Marafino who observed, “Baggs’ story revealed a maturity in writing, with the characters offering their own unique perspectives on life.” Jurist Henry Scott “Biff’ Baron, a director and playwright himself, observed, “The constant challenge of any playwright is to create living, breathing characters that don't appear to be stereotypical or trite - but actually behave in their own unique ways. The characters in this play are all that and more. The dialogue sparkles with wit and charm, yet maintains an essential believability that draws you in, because you're watching ‘real people’ interact.” Rodney Eatman, a member of the final panel of jurists who selected the winner, looks forward to the play reading and expects it will be well received. Eatman is Director of Theatre and Professor of Theatre Arts at the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown.  “There can’t be enough good plays. It’s exciting to be able to add to the body of dramatic literature. The Mountain Playhouse has a distinguished history of entertaining audiences and we are in a unique place to bring forth a new product that reflects the things that we are so good at doing at the Mountain Playhouse,” says Eatman.


NYTheatre.com
July 7, 2004
Wilde, New & Sizzling
by Martin Denton

excerpt - The rest of New is broadly comic, from Donna Spector's warm-hearted look at a fortune teller and her deceased mother in Crystal Ball, to Susan Goodell's humorous yarn about a family whose members are none of them what they seem (Well Really), to the charmingly off-kilter August Jinx, by Linda Escalera Baggs, about a bride whose aunt is convinced that her wedding is doomed. The five New plays are well-staged by Andy Davis and Kathy Gail MacGowan.


Style Weekly

May 19, 2004

Former Richmonder Linda Escalera Baggs had a brilliant theatrical idea when she wrote “Silent Heroes,” the Barksdale Theatre’s latest production. It’s 1975 at a Marine base, and a pilot has been killed in a noncombat accident. The wives of the squadron’s six pilots have gathered to find out who has lost a husband. Baggs puts the women in a small room, reveals the identities of the surviving pilots one by one, and so the tension builds to a boiling point. It’s a testament to the strength of this basic idea that the show remains compelling, even though a lot of clumsy dramatics transpire as the story unfolds. Baggs tends to use her characters as hooks to hang issues on. Spousal abuse, infidelity and racism are all run up the flagpole. This kind of one-note characterization reduces much of the dialogue to polemics and proclamations. And the play seems stuck in a loop in the early scenes, as each character reveals a dark secret and then storms out of the room. Plot weaknesses aside, Baggs has an insightful sense of interpersonal dynamics and a quick wit. She also knows how to play an audience’s emotions: This is a production that will choke you up at least a few times and will have you on the edge of your seat at the ending. Director Nancy Cates stages the action simply but with nicely rendered details, from the era-appropriate hairdos to a set by Joel Sherry that manages to be both antiseptic and impressionistic. Cates gets excellent performances from her actresses, who infuse even the one-note characters with depth and resonance. Jill Bari Steinberg is the most nuanced as the world-weary Eleanor, complete with acid-tongued quips and withering disdain. But her tough exterior hides an unexpected and abiding love for her unfaithful fly-boy. Steinberg is closely matched by stage veteran Jan Guarino as June, the commanding officer’s wife. June, who lost her first husband in combat, comforts and consoles the other wives, never revealing her pain and anger until the harrowing conclusion. In fact, there’s probably a superb — and more subtle — play to be found within the bounds of June’s and Eleanor’s complex relationship. Until Baggs writes that one, this very good play will do. — D. L. Hintz
Silent Heroes Pic
Potomac Stages
January 31, 2004

The second half of Source’s four play series of new works has proven to be the stronger half. Playing in repertory with the already reviewed Interrogation Room, this is an emotional exploration of the strains on six women whose husbands’ military careers dominate their lives. The play may start off with six fairly stereotyped “types” thrown together by a common circumstance, but it makes the most of the pressure cooker into which it places them, starting strong and building to a satisfying conclusion. What is more, Playwright Linda Escalera Baggs has the good sense to end the play at just the right moment.

 Storyline: Six wives of Marine pilots gather in a bare room at the Marine Corps Air Station at Beaufort, South Carolina in the middle of the night, having been summoned because a training accident has occurred. It appears that one of their husbands has died - but which one? They support each other as much as they can while each desperately hopes that her husband isn’t the one not coming home. As one challenges the other who says she hopes it isn’t her husband: “Who do you hope it is?”

Baggs’ decision to structure this as a one act play pays off as the tension builds in an unrelieved, almost geometric progression. Had the story been broken for an intermission she would have had to devise a logical break point somewhere close to the middle of her story and then, when the audience returned from its break, would have had to start the emotional escalation all over again, almost from scratch. Instead, there is no interruption and no relief as the tension builds.

 The success of every play is very much in the hands of the cast performing it but this one is all the more so because the characters are presented at the moment of their most extreme emotional exposure. Over-acting will make them appear corny or artificial. Under-acting will rob the evening of emotion which is the sole stock in trade of this story. Director Allison Arkell Stockman has helped all six actresses find the proper balance and drawn some fine work from them, especially from those with the most important roles.

Lisa Lias and Sheila Hennessey have the task of getting the emotional escalator going. They have to establish the concept and provide the basic information the audience needs while, at the same time, showing the fear their characters try to hold inside. Misty Demory, as a very pregnant wife, is the first to ratchet up the intensity. In addition to her acting skills, either Demory really is pregnant or she knows very well how a pregnant woman moves. She has the walk and she has mastered the movements required to sit down and to stand back up. Saskia de Vries also has command of the way her character would move. In this case, she is a former “hippie” whose opposition to the then-recently-concluded war in Viet Nam doesn’t sit too well with her sister military wives.


 Written by Linda Escalera Baggs. Directed by Allison Arkell Stockman. Lighting designed by Marianne Meadows. Cast: Dionne Audain, Kimberly Cooper, Misty Demory, Sheila Hennessey, Lisa Lias, Saskia de Vries.


 

Giving Our "Silent Heroes" Voice
by Barry I. Barker  January 16, 2004
Silent Heroes: (l-r) Dionne Audain,
Kimberley Cooper,  Saskia de Vries,
Misty Demory, Lisa Lias, and Sheila Hennessey
.
Linda Escalera Baggs, playwright, finished her new play, Silent Heroes - the story of Marine pilots’ wives and their responses to a fatal crash – in August 2001.  On September 10, 2001, she submitted it for a competition and she worried – would it be too patriotic for our jaded country?  The next day, our country changed. 

The first full run of this remarkable play, directed by Allison Arkell Stockman, is ongoing at Source Theatre in Washington, DC.  Set shortly after the end of the Vietnam War, six Marine pilots’ wives are awaiting word of whose husband has died in a training accident.  Secrets are shared, fears are exposed, and sacrifices are made.  We learn of infidelity, abuse, discrimination, and terrible loss. 

The lives of military families are rarely portrayed in any art form, and when they are, often they are shown as caricatures, not as real human beings.  Coming from a Marine Corps family, Mrs. Baggs knows of what she writes – she knows how crucial the civilian spouse’s role is in holding together the family.  She also sees the connection between military families and how that makes the military, particularly the Corps, a large, extended family.  Silent Heroes offers a glimpse back to a period not so long ago, and yet ages ago.  For the military and for our country, 2004 is markedly different from 1975, yet many themes wrestled with back then are still important today.  The one overriding theme of this play is that the truly eternal theme throughout US history is that the heroes on the battlefield are reflected by heroes on the homefront – the Silent Heroes.





Great Material Wins Tony Awards for Actors
Theatremania.com   August 7, 2002
By Peter Filichia

So while I was watching Linda Escalera Baggs's Silent Heroes at FutureFest in Dayton, I thought, "Hmm...this playwright has not only written six fat parts for women but also at least two parts that could very well win Tony awards for the actresses playing them." And that started me thinking: Which writer has created the most Tony-winning roles?

You know me; ideas just pop into my head! Once I got the notion, I besieged Dayton Playhouse managing director David Seyer for a copy of a Tony Awards book. As he always manages to do with any of my requests, he obliged by lending me his. I spent late Saturday night flipping through pages, making notes -- and getting surprised.

Here were my criteria: If one of the writer's plays was later revived and someone won a Tony that time around, I counted it. In the case of musicals, credit went to every party cited as an author. For example, Jerry Herman got a nod for Angela Lansbury, Bea Arthur, and Frankie Michaels in Mame and Lansbury in Dear World -- and so did book writers Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee. After all, performers in musicals don't just win for singing and dancing, but for acting the book as well.

By the way, Lawrence and Lee did better than you might think. In fact, they out-grossed Herman, who did provide Tonys for Carol Channing in Dolly and George Hearn in La Cage aux Folles -- which, added to the above-mentioned, resulted in a total of six awards. Lawrence and Lee scored seven times, what with Paul Muni and Ed Begley winning for Inherit the Wind and Peggy Cass for Auntie Mame, the straight-play predecessor of Mame.

It's tempting to assume that our greatest serious playwrights -- Eugene O'Neill, Arthur Miller, and Tennessee Williams -- would have scored high, but they didn't. To be fair, O'Neill's career was virtually over by the time the Tonys began in 1946-47 and, even with revivals, he's only got three Tony-winning roles to his credit: Frederic March in Long Day's Journey into Night, and Colleen Dewhurst and Ed Flanders in A Moon for the Misbegotten. But the other two giants were just coming into their own when the Tonys started, so it's a little disappointing and disconcerting to find that Williams "only" has seven (Charles Durning, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof; Margaret Leighton, The Night of the Iguana; Maureen Stapleton and Eli Wallach, The Rose Tattoo; Zoe Caldwell, Slapstick Tragedy; Jessica Tandy, A Streetcar Named Desire; Irene Worth, Sweet Bird of Youth) while Miller has "only" six (Barbara Loden, After the Fall; Beatrice Straight, The Crucible; Brian Dennehy, Elizabeth Franz and Arthur Kennedy, Death of a Salesman; Anthony LaPaglia, A View from the Bridge).

All this is by way of reminding us that Edward Albee must be placed among their ranks, given that he's provided six statuette-securing roles: George Grizzard and Marian Seldes, A Delicate Balance; Frank Langella, Seascape; Irene Worth, Tiny Alice; Uta Hagen and Arthur Hill, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Tom Stoppard and August Wilson have six, too. The former provided Christine Baranski, Glenn Close, Stephen Dillane, Jennifer Ehle, and Jeremy Irons with The Real Thing, and gave Travesties to John Wood; the latter's half-dozen include Mary Alice and James Earl Jones, Fences; L. Scott Caldwell, Joe Turner's Come and Gone; Viola Davis, King Hedley II; Ruben Santiago-Hudson, Seven Guitars; and Laurence Fishburne, Two Trains Running.

 And yet, beating them all is Terrence McNally, partly because he's written both plays and musicals. For plays, he's had John Glover, Love! Valour! Compassion!; Zoe Caldwell and Audra McDonald, Master Class; and Rita Moreno, The Ritz; for musicals, Brent Carver, Anthony Crivello, and Chita Rivera, Kiss of the Spider Woman; Audra McDonald, Ragtime; and Chita Rivera, The Rink.

As for Sondheim, he scores pretty high with 12 wins thus far: Alexis Smith, Follies; Larry Blyden, David Burns, Nathan Lane, Zero Mostel, and Phil Silvers, A Funny Thing; Tyne Daly and Angela Lansbury, Gypsy; Joanna Gleason, Into the Woods; Patricia Elliott and Glynis Johns, A Little Night Music; Donna Murphy, Passion; Len Cariou and Angela Lansbury, Sweeney Todd. But Sondheim's one-time collaborator, Richard Rodgers did better. With Oscar Hammerstein alone, he had 12 wins: Audra McDonald, Carousel; Yul Brynner, Gertrude Lawrence, and Donna Murphy, The King and I; Shuler Hensley, Oklahoma!; Mary Martin and Patricia Neway, The Sound of Music; Juanita Hall, Mary Martin, Myron McCormick, and Ezio Pinza, South Pacific. But Rodgers winds up with 15 when you factor in his wins for Helen Gallagher in Pal Joey, Diahann Carroll in No Strings, and Natalia Makarova in On Your Toes. (Hammerstein, by the way, finished at 13 thanks to Greta Boston's win for the most recent Show Boat revival.)

Rodgers still isn't the champ of the musical writers, though. And Andrew Lloyd Webber bashers will be pleased to see that he's nowhere in the running, for he can only boast of eight prizes: Patti Lupone and Mandy Patinkin, Evita; Betty Buckley, Cats; Bernadette Peters, Song and Dance; Michael Crawford and Judy Kaye, The Phantom of the Opera; Glenn Close and George Hearn, Sunset Boulevard. Lo and behold, no one working exclusively in musicals can beat John Kander and Fred Ebb, who have had the satisfaction of providing 16 Tony-winning parts: Liza Minnelli, The Act; Alan Cumming, Joel Grey, Peg Murray, Natasha Richardson, and Ron Rifkin, Cabaret; James Naughton and Bebe Neuwirth, Chicago; Liza Minnelli, Flora, the Red Menace; Robert Goulet, The Happy Time; Brent Carver, Anthony Crivello, and Chita Rivera, Kiss of the Spider Woman; Chita Rivera, The Rink; Lauren Bacall and Marilyn Cooper, Woman of the Year. How fitting that K&E wrote a song called "I Can't Do It Alone" for, indeed, none of these Tony-winners could have done it without them.

But who, finally, is the leader of the club? No less than Neil Simon. Granted, he hasn't had much Tony luck himself, grabbing a mere three trophies in 17 tries: one in 1965 for The Odd Couple, when his script didn't win Best Play but he himself won in the long-discarded category of Best Playwright (suggesting that the top award in those years really should have been called Best Play/Production), then Best Play trophies for Biloxi Blues and Lost in Yonkers. Nevertheless, Simon's characters and words have yielded 19 Tony Awards for actors. Interestingly, only six of them were for leads: Linda Lavin, Broadway Bound; Maureen Stapleton, The Gingerbread Lady; Martin Short, Little Me; Mercedes Ruehl, Lost in Yonkers; Walter Matthau, The Odd Couple; and Jerry Orbach, Promises, Promises. The other 13 were for supporting roles: Matthew Broderick, Brighton Beach Memoirs; Barry Miller, Biloxi Blues; John Randolph, Broadway Bound; Ann Wedgeworth, Chapter Two; Frances Sternhagen, The Good Doctor; Dinah Manhoff, I Ought to Be in Pictures; Kevin Spacey and Irene Worth, Lost in Yonkers; Vincent Gardenia, The Prisoner of Second Avenue; Marian Mercer, Promises, Promises; Christine Baranski, Rumors; Bebe Neuwirth and Michael Rupert, Sweet Charity. This list is yet another argument for adding Neil Simon's name to the list of our greatest playwrights.


I Have Seen the Future(Fest)
Theatremania.com  August 5, 2002
By Peter Filichia


Go to downtown Dayton and you'll find some fanciful sculptures. There's one of the planes that Wilbur and Orville Wright flew -- in North Carolina, yes, but the boys made their newfangled invention in this neck of the woods. Even more fun are the tributes to three inventions made by Daytonians: the cash register, the ice cube tray, and the pop-top can.

But, one day, there just has to be a sculpture down here commemorating FutureFest, the Dayton Playhouse's annual celebration of new plays that just marked its 12th anniversary. Each year, Nancy Campbell, Harvey Damaser, and plenty of others plow through new scripts -- 377 this year -- and decide which are worth producing at the festival that takes place at Dayton's community theater each July. Three of the winning shows get staged readings, while three others get full productions -- one performance each.

The plays are finally unfurled in front of five judges. Helen Sneed, Eleanor Speert, and my Theatermania colleague David Finkle were back this year along with me, and we were joined by newcomer Kirsten Childs, author of the terrific The Bubbly Black Girl Sheds Her Chameleon Skin. (I'd never met her before, and was anxious to. On April 1, she and I had made arrangements by phone to meet on April 8; but my mother died on April 7, so I was off to Boston and forgot all about the appointment. When I returned to town and realized my gaffe, I called Kirsten, got her machine, and apologized. The next day, flowers arrived -- from Kirsten Childs. Some friends I've known for 20, 30, even 40 years didn't send anything, but this extraordinary woman I'd never even met sure did.)

FutureFest began on Friday night with Jim Gustafson's Too Good to Say Good-Bye, about a pulp novelist whose characters are so alive to him that they live in his apartment with him. All worry about their creator, for he's been in a funk since his wife died some years ago and none of their stories have been finished, so they're stuck in the room -- at least until their master meets a fan who not only falls in love with him but starts seeing his characters, too.

Saturday brought Linda Escalera Baggs' Silent Heroes, in which six Marine wives hear that one of their husbands has been killed in a plane crash and each waits to see which man won't return; Marsha Estell's Heat, wherein three generations of women in an African-American family compare their experiences; and Robert Koon's Vintage Red and the Dust of the Road, in which a successful photographer (marvelously played by Ray Geiger) returns to the Napa Valley and the wine business he left, to the fury of his neglected family.

Sunday introduced The Rocker, Adrienne Earle Pender's new take on King Lear, in which Ginny and Rachel wind up betraying multi-millionaire Owen to cash in on his cash while daughter Del is cut out of the will because she won't tell him what he wants to hear. Finally, there was Dave Bates' Easy Prey, in which Gloria Archer, a once-famous Broadway actress now relegated to Off-Off-Broadway believes this new play by Sally Jo Jenkins will take her back to the top. Part of the fun for Gloria is making sure that she intimidates her producer, director, and -- of course -- her playwright, whom she assumes will be "easy prey." Not at all, especially in the way Jenkins was played by Annie Pesch, who's quickly become one of my favorite actresses in the country. She's only 20, but I've seen her for the last few years do splendidly with adolescent parts; now she's playing adults, and doing equally worthy work.

Annie's mother Fran Pesch, magnificently played one of the Marine wives in Silent Heroes, but they're not the only family members working at FutureFest. Saul Caplan directed Vintage Red; his daughter Sarah assisted him and stage-managed all the shows. Is the moral of this story that "the family that does plays together stays together?" Not necessarily, but even divorce doesn't rend some people asunder. Once-married Jim and Dodie Lockwood still act at the playhouse; each did superbly in (respectively) Easy Prey and Silent Heroes. Ditto their daughter Jennifer in Vintage Red.

If there's any doubt that Daytonians behind the scenes go the extra mile: In Easy Prey there was a reference to "an all-nude production of Our Town" and a musical version of The Brothers Karamazov, so the FutureFesters had posters designed, drawn, and printed for both mythical productions. ("Our Town: All Singing! All Dancing! All Gay!" read a hot pink window card.) The troupe also created T-shirts celebrating the festival, with each playwright's play and name emblazoned on them.

FutureFest audience are extremely appreciative: the house, with its 200-plus seats, sells out. (One Floridian travels hundreds of miles to spend some of her vacation at FutureFest each year.) And the audience is amazingly attentive. Even when a show encounters a dry patch where theatergoers could not be faulted for losing interest, these people are listening keenly, as is proved by their sudden laughter en masse at a joke that comes out of the blue. They applaud most every blackout, too.

And the winner was... Silent Heroes, which had one of the more startling scenes I'd seen in months. Soon after Patsy, whose husband was physically abusing her, found that he had survived -- to our dismay -- only two women were left. June had already been widowed once by Marine activities and knew that she might face the same fate again. "I don't want to hear 'Taps' again! I don't want another flag!" she roared; then she ran over to the American and Marine flags that were standing on poles, yanked them out of their holders, and threw them on the ground in fury.

Baggs received a $1,000 prize. (The other playwrights didn't go home empty-handed, but received $100 each). I was glad for Baggs for another reason: She's the daughter of a Marine colonel who attended a reading of this play eight months ago, was offended by what he perceived to be anti-American sentiments, and stopped talking to his daughter. The two still haven't reconciled, but I hope word gets to him so he can see how wrong he is. And I hope that the play gets out there so you, too, can feel its power.

As Helen Sneed told the crowd at the end of FutureFest, "Someone here asked me if my brain was tired and I told her, 'No, because what I use most here is my heart.'" Playwrights are the greatest beneficiaries of the festival, though. When I met Adrienne Earle Pender at Dayton International Airport's baggage claim on Friday afternoon, I told her, "You are about to be treated as a queen." On Sunday night, she told me that's exactly how she felt.

Okay, playwrights: You have until October 31 to submit one or more of your original bound scripts that have never before been produced anywhere (readings don't count against you, though). Include a title page containing the play's name, your name, mailing address, phone number, and e-mail address. Also include a résumé and send it all to Dayton Playhouse, FutureFest 2003, 1301 E. Siebenthaler Ave., Dayton, OH 45414. Next May, you just might hear that you're one of the six lucky playwrights who'll get free air fare and hotel accommodations, be greeted as a celebrity, and see your work performed by a talented cast. Make it happen!



New Play Festival's 'Silent Heroes' speaks volumes about love, life, death
Saturday,February 09, 2002
By John Hayes, Post-Gazette Staff Writer

I'm on record as the "dramatic action" guy. I rant and rant about the essential role that physical movement plays in theater, that words without action are just "a script that's being read out loud."

To be fair, there are several sub-genres that rely almost entirely on words without action. In film, one style is pejoratively referred to as the "chick flick," a drama in which a bunch of women talk, talk, talk about themselves and others, inevitably ending in a tragedy and a group hug. "Steel Magnolias" and "Little Women" are good examples of that kind of word-intensive story done well, on stage and screen.

With a few nips and tucks, Linda Escalera Baggs' "Silent Heroes" could join that short list of dramas that transcend the needs of their intended audience. The story unfolds in 1975 on a military base in a stand-by room where the wives of six Marine aviators have gathered in the night after hearing that one of the base's jet fighters has crashed. The Corps has offered no comfort or information, but the women know that one of their husbands isn't coming home.

Baggs is unusually good at crafting definable characters who personify disparate aspects of the changing times. "Silent Heroes" isn't only about the brave women who hold their families and the Corps together while their husbands fly the jets and fight the wars. It's about race relations, women's rights, war, peace, family, infidelity, spousal abuse, desperate loneliness and a tenuous social structure that enables military wives to cope with the constant fear that their husbands' lives and their futures could end violently and suddenly.

With little physical drama to work with, director Leonarda Obarski keeps the conversation crisp and moves her characters, and the story, back and forth across the stage. Act 1 ends with the sound of an F-4 passing overhead -- one of the husbands has come home. The tension rises slowly through the second act as, one at a time, four more powerful jets roar over the building, and one at a time, a woman leaves the room to meet her husband on the tarmac. The anguish is palpable when two remaining wives hear the thunder of the final jet's return. The silent look they exchange is breathtaking.

Heidi Brush, Naomi Grodin and Connie Culbertson are outstanding in difficult roles. Mary Rose Thomas overplays the production's only action sequence, and Dee Panza is effective as a character who displays little change. Lynneise N. Joseph is less convincing.

Men in the crowd may shift uncomfortably during long periods of gossiping and cat fighting. But in "Silent Heroes," Gemini Theater's Pittsburgh New Play Festival has discovered a script that's too poignant, too compelling to end here. Baggs should go back to the word processor, continue refining and take her project to the next level.


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If you would like to know more please contact me at ABaggLady@BaggStage.com