Razzle Dazzle: A Saroyan Circus

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

In a time when our culture celebrates Big Things: Easter, Passover, American Idol, Dancing With The Stars, and celebrities of all types, it is jarring and rich that Germinal Stage Denver would schedule Razzle Dazzle: A Saroyan Circus.

Marc K. Moran, Sallie Diamond, Suzanna Wellens, and Kristina Denise Pitt in Germinal Stage Denver’s production of Razzle Dazzle: A Saroyan Circus.

Unabashedly proud to be an American, captivated by common every day things and people, Playwright William Saroyan celebrated life, as he knew it, growing up in Fresno, California during the Great Depression.

In 1940 he wrote several dramatic pieces and radio plays called Razzle Dazzle where common people in everyday situations take the spotlight.

Razzle Dazzle: A Saroyan Circus, arranged by Lou Florimonte, directed and designed by Ed Baierlein features Travis W. Boswell, Sallie Diamond, Mike McCuen, Marc K. Moran, Kristina Denise Pitt, Eric Victor, and Suzanna Wellens in an exciting ensemble giving to and feeding off of each other.

With a large red neon sign above the stage blinking On The Air accompanied with radio sounds in unison with static, the cast strolls onto to the stage casually chatting.

Dressed in a black suit, a black overcoat around his shoulders and a black hat, McCuen joins the group announcing he is Bill Saroyan. He casually asks about writing a play revolving around why do you like the United States of America.

Pointing to different cast members, he sets them up for particular scenes. If they indicate they’re not sure what to say, Saroyan confidently tells them with a sly smile “you’ll know.”

Razzle Dazzle weaves four sharply tuned settings: The People With Light Coming Out of Them, Hello Out There, The Ping Pong Players, and The Hungerers.

Throughout the delightful evening, the four dove tail into and through each other, coming together as a breath of fresh air.

Victor in the People With Light Coming Out of Them, paints a verbal picture of a city block, emphasizing it could be any block in any American city. He points out elements people see every day, sometimes forgetting to notice. There’s an old man (Moran) and his wife (Diamond) dancing and singing the Dolly Day Song. Pitt becomes their granddaughter who goes to work every day looking like a princess. Victor becomes a painter of seven years. The granddaughter wants to know if he paints houses. Yes, he can do that too, but he started painting things, and then began painting the light that comes out of them. Laughing, the granddaughter tells him he sounds like a preacher. His response: everyone is a preacher.

Chains locking around Boswell’s ankles, while he sits in a chair, calls hello out there to anyone, to no one. In jail, “lonesome as a coyote,” he repeats his greeting until a girl, a cook, (Wellens) responds. Shy, withdrawn, uneasy, she wants to know whom he is talking to. She does what she is told to do, cooks what she is told to cook, having become more of an ingrown puppet than a person. He’s been accused of rape and is in a lot of trouble, but he thinks she’s the prettiest thing he has ever seen. He’s going to marry her. He’s going to be the richest man. Living in a fantasy world? Wrongly accused, but staunchly optimistic? She’s unnerved by his attention, at the same time captivated, admitting she’s as lonely as a coyote too. Two isolated individuals, reaching out to each other, with bravado mixed with fearful anxiety.

The Ping Pong Players Saroyan says was written on a train, and he never liked trains. He assigns Victor and Wellens to play the game. She wants to win once, and never has. He hates the game thinking she liked it. She hates it, thinking he liked it. Something’s wrong, Saroyan brings in Boswell and Pitt to make the sound of the ball being hit. Making assumptions about each other, wanting to disagree, uncertain how the other will respond they tip toe through words. There’s something more. Her mother (Diamond) enters upset. She has reason. Two people in competition who play around with not knowing each other, not knowing themselves, hiding behind a cracking faŤade attempting to reach out, attempting to be honest; not quite knowing how.

Melding back to Hello Out There, the two still with their guard up, are at least willing to pursue with trepidation further conversation.

Saroyan interrupts saying it’s time for The Hungerers. No, not hungry for bread, but rather immortality. He picks out Victor and Moran whose name is John selling Saturday Evening Posts. There’s an old woman (Diamond) with a cane, and a young girl (Pitt). It’s hot. There’s death, a sweeping away of the bodies, and someone says: “New York is far away even when you’re there.”

The painter appears commenting on everyone on the block being just like them as he continues to look for the light in them, musing “that is American.”

Razzle Dazzle: A Saroyan Circus may not contain 3-rings, may not get the heart to pumping wildly with excitement, may not have the blood racing through the veins. It’s a quiet piece, a thoughtful piece, and a provocative piece well put together, executed by a cast who understands exactly what they are doing.

What it does do is make you think, spreading out a layer of strong appreciation for the common things, the common people who live on every American city block. Heightening awareness, it will be difficult to not look for the light in everyone and everything as the painter learned to do. That may be a quiet thing, but a very big thing.

Razzle Dazzle: A Saroyan Circus officially opened Friday night, and you can be certain all of the screws are now tightened down, with lines and characters securely in place. GSD’s production should definitely be placed on the “go see” list. Across the decades it speaks with a gentle reminder of wedded seriousness and humor about appreciation witnessed every day.