HOME PAGE SITE GUIDE SEARCH REVIEWS REVIEW ARCHIVES ADVERTISING AT CURTAINUP FEATURES NEWS Etcetera and Short Term Listings LISTINGS Broadway Off-Broadway NYC Restaurants BOOKS and CDs OTHER PLACES Berkshires London California New Jersey DC Connecticut Philadelphia Elsewhere QUOTES TKTS PLAYWRIGHTS' ALBUMS LETTERS TO EDITOR FILM LINKS MISCELLANEOUS Free Updates Masthead Writing for Us |
A CurtainUp London Review
Bakersfield Mist
by Tim Sealey
Maude (Kathleen Turner) a recently unemployed bartender has found a painting in the skip near her trailer park home in suburban America. Believing it to be a Jackson Pollock worth millions, she employs the professional services of an art expert Lionel Percy (Ian McDiarmid) to prove to the world that she really has found a masterpiece. However, it isn't just the truth of the painting that is revealed and although Maude and Lionel are from very different worlds, their tragic pasts prove they are alike in more ways than one. The story is indeed as simple as that and at a delightful 80 minutes long it really is a short but sweet evening of thought provoking drama. Both Turner and McDiarmid are extremely charming to watch and enjoy. Turner's comic timing is in great form and she constantly lingers on the cliff edges of deadpan making you not sure whether to laugh or cry. Her husky voice and nervous disposition both suit the role well and she is successful in purporting there is actually much more than meets the eye with this naive 'country bumpkin'. McDiarmid creates in Lionel a person we feel is sympathetic and understanding. His past is catching up with him and with essences of alcoholism and loveless marriages, this character is quite heart warming to watch. These superb performances are played out on Tom Piper's wonderful and realistic set design. The higgledy-piggledy home of Maude is created with huge authenticity and the complexities of this character are brought even more to the forefront by clever and idiosyncratic props. Stephen Sachs' play is not one that will blow your mind but that is its charm. It floats along simply enough whilst inadvertently planting in your mind important questions about art. With so much garbage being created on stage, on film and on canvas to the cost of millions are the questions that really need answering. It also highlights a huge problem of snobbery in the art world and emphasises the point - what makes someone qualified to decide when art is art? Also, can such a question be answered by guidelines and boundaries - isn't my concept of art going to be different to yours? Isn't art ultimately in the eye of the beholder? This is a poignant piece that may ultimately leave you with the depressing thought that actually nobody really knows.
|
|