A Touch of the Poet

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

Right up front where it counts most, Germinal Stage Denver’s production of Eugene O’Neill’s A Touch of the Poet should not be missed. This classic piece of theatre from one of America’s greatest playwrights, a Pulitzer Prize winner four times, and the Nobel Prize for American literature, is a masterpiece. O’Neill’s innate perception to put the American Dream, and failure to achieve such, into flesh and blood human nature remains legendary. His eyesight goes far beyond the eyes in his head. Matched only by his masterful wording.

Trina Magness as Deborah Harford in Germinal Stage Denver’s production of A Touch of the Poet.

Originally intended to be a part of a nine-play cycle, A Touch of the Poet set outside Boston in 1828, zeroes in on Major Cornelius Melody, a once- upon-a-time war hero in Wellington’s army who fought in Spain against Napoleon at Talavera, reduced to running a lowly Inn outside Boston, living in the past, subjecting his wife, Nora, and daughter Sara to his self-indulged bravado, drunken fits, and cruel behavior until nearly beaten to a pulp, Con redefines himself through a touch of a poet.

Gripping, exhaustive, mesmerizing, Ed Baierlein gives a performance of a lifetime as Con, who would object immensely. That’s Major Cornelius Melody to you, thank you just the same.

Living in pretense, walled in by regretful bitterness, Con (and though he would object, the nickname serves him well) treats his wife Nora nothing more than a floor-scrubbing-cook-pay-the-bills-slave in servitude after he has squandered what little money he has on liquor and his prized thoroughbred mare.

Born in a castle to wealth, Con married Nora, a servant because she was the prettiest girl around.

The extreme difficult life and hard work robbed Nora of her beauty leaving her once beautiful hair smelling like onions, garlic and kitchen smells.

Lori Hansen wraps herself in Nora’s persona playing her like a queen in spite of her tattered clothing, scarved hair, and worried demeanor over bills she can’t pay. Something there is about Nora that completely understands Con loving him unconditionally, absorbing his cruel insults and doting on his every demand. Aside from her physical appearance, and haggard beaten down faŤade, Hansen’s eyes reveal a spark of something. She knows the man. She knows his hated for living in poverty. Hating the fact he takes better care of his prized mare then he does his family, she understands why. In spite of her strengthened frailty, she shows no fear of standing up to him. Hansen’s entire being gives this Nora in one glance.

As Baierlein commands stage center attention as Con, Hansen commands attention with a hidden strength she lends to Nora, or Nora lends to her. The performance is so smashing it is difficult to tell which.

With fire in her mouth, and burning embers feeding her spirit, L. Corwin Christie brings daughter Sara to life. Filling herself with pride, Sara has no problem standing up to her father’s grave insults, willing to say things Nora bites her tongue to speak.

Nursing Simon in an upstairs room, a poet living in a cabin on the edge of the wild rejecting his family’s wealth, Sara digs deep into her soul determined she and Simon will marry allowing nothing or no one to stand in her way.

Although Con frequently refers to her as a slut, he digs at her she can be better then her mother. Walking side by side in her spit and fire, Sara clings to an idealistic romanticism insisting it matters little Simon comes from a wealthy family. She would gladly sleep on the ground without a roof over her head to marry her poet.

Mickey runs the bar for Con with simple cool confidence even though according to Sara addition does not happen to be one of his strong suits. He too understands Con as a once upon a time heroic handsome dashing womanizing soldier living in a dream world crushed by drunken stupors. Leroy Leonard projects Mickey’s simplistic sensibility with wisdom almost beyond his cognitive comprehension. Cousin and army buddy to Con needed for moral support, Arthur Goodman portrays Jamie Cregan with the jovial happy-go-lucky tempered with a serious bent concern for Con. Through the war together, a bond connects them. It has been 19 years since the war ended. Jamie arrives for a celebration of the triumphant success willing to allow Con to relive the faded gloried moments.

John W. B. Green, Luke Terry and John Seifert play three bar dogs eager and happy to get a drink whenever they can as Paddy O’Dowd, Dan Roche, and Patch Riley. The three claim for their characters the stereotypical Irish immigrant bar fixtures.

The elegant mysterious lady waltzing into the Tavern with a strange light in her eyes captivates Con’s womanizing nature. Without finding out who she is, he makes a clumsy play for her in his half drunken state. At first embarrassing himself, his desperate ego turns the story into his favor. Half-crazy, living in a far away land no one else can visit, Trina Magness plays Simon’s mother, Deborah Harford with a stylish, graceful out of her mind protective, sliced with vindication, mother. With sarcasm slipping between her words, aware of the possible marriage between her son and Sara, she clings to a scheme of her own. Magness takes the breath away from Sara, Nora, Con, and everyone else.

Baierlein takes center stage with Con no matter where he is or what kind of a stupor Con is in. At the same time every member of the cast stands straight and tall next to him no matter how stooped over they may be.

Germinal’s stage forges into the background as the dining room of the run down inn takes over. Three rough-hewn wooden tables depict the dining room with a “railinged” landing pointing toward the upstairs, an exit upper stage center to the bar area and the main entrance to the Inn. The walls carefully covered with wooden planks. The stage itself bows to the setting.

Sallie Diamond designed the period costumes to perfection for actors and characters including Con’s brilliant uniform that once fit a dashing army Major, and still fits, sort of, and yet a brutal reminder of what once was and no longer is.

The cast has mastered the rich Irish brogue tailoring it to their specific characters, as part of the whole picture completing the portrait of Irish immigrants on the eastern seaboard.

Not at all happy his daughter has fallen in love with a poet, Con prepares his mind for the deal Simon’s father will undoubtedly set forth. Of course, a dowry will be expected. He doesn’t know where the money will come from, but he knows something can be worked out.

When Nicholas Gadsby, saunters in dressed to the hilt, elegant in all respects, representing the father’s legalities. Con is ready. Steven Kramer as Gadsby knocks the wind out of Con’s sails with his rigid posture, perfected speech, and no-nonsense let’s-get-down-to-business confused glances when Con babbles his way through his predicament.

What Gadsby has to offer isn’t what Con expects, sending him into an uncontrollable rage defending Simon and Sara’s determined marriage. Something happens to Con. Skepticism regarding Sara and Simon melt at his feet. With Jamie, his determination takes him to the Father’s castle to confront, even though he doesn’t have a prayer of a chance, the man face to face.

Frequently quoting poetry, Con often repeats with all too honest awareness “I have not loved the world, nor the world loved me”, allowing his voice to fade. Deep inside the arrogant cold heart lies knowledge of appreciated poetry even through obvious bitterness; he knows Simon walked away from his father’s fortune.

Something happens to Con in the beating he gets, returning home unable to stand, declaring the Major is dead.

Although O’Neill regularly dealt with social stigmas, disillusionment, destructive social relationships with detailed insight, a strange twist plays into Con. When a gunshot is heard, Nora and Sara freeze in their tracks, but a different man walks back into their lives because of an intense touch of a poet.

Breathtaking from the moment the house lights dim to the moment the house lights return permanently, the emotional roller coaster play leaves one stunned, exhausted, awed, and mesmerized.

It is little wonder A Touch of the Poet is rarely done. Few theatres could pull it off maintaining its demands and high quality. As far as anyone can determine the sequel More Stately Mansions has never been performed in conjunction with A Touch of the Poet. Germinal has arranged to immediately follow Poet with its sequel sending Simon Harford, Sara Melody, and Deborah Harford into a scheming mysterious conflicted world.