Amy’s View

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

There are several plays that write in actors to be on stage who don’t really do anything except maybe add contrasting colors to a splashing portrait. Sometimes they’re noticed. Sometimes not. Sometimes they are not supposed to be noticed, but if they weren’t present, the portrait would definitely hang lopsided.

I. Corwin Christie as Amy and Paige Larson as Esme Allen in Amy’s View.

To have an actor on stage for 40 minutes sitting in a wheelchair, doing nothing because the character can’t due to age, loss of memory with the possible onset of Alzheimer’s and steal scenes is a whole different matter.

It’s happening right now at Miners Alley Playhouse in Golden with the production of David Hare’s awe-grabbing play Amy’s View in association with Everyman Theatre Company. Directed by Richard Pegg, Amy’s View is a masterpiece of ingenious creative heart-rending truth, couched in biting words, wrapped in a cloak of tenderness.

In the beginning Marion Rex endows Evelyn Thomas with quick wit on an elderly bent as theatre diva Esme Allen’s aging mother in law. Evelyn knows her age speaks first and foremost and she can get away with just about anything. She does with a smirk and left jabs of verbs and adverbs.

The play spans 16 years between 1979 and 1995. By 1993 Evelyn is confined to the wheelchair, unable to speak. In a corner of the stage, she sits. For 40 minutes she sits in a breath-taking exhibit of an actor absorbed by the character pretending she doesn’t know what is going on, leaving one to wonder where the mind of Evelyn really is. She’s going to change positions. She’s going to forget and cross her legs. It doesn’t happen. Rex doesn’t flinch once. Subtle moves are made all in character. Eyes dart to her frequently, but there she is subdued in this character who can’t speak. It’s a marvel of a performance. She’s so believable she’s scary. She’s going to rub her nose. Something is going to cause her to forget for a nano moment, and she’s going to look where she shouldn’t be looking so you keep looking to catch the uncatchable. It never happens. Rex gives an amazing performance doing nothing, a trapped spirit in a collapsed body.

Amy’s View isn’t about Evelyn. It’s about Amy’s view. The daughter of a British theatre diva, Esme Allen, (Paige Larson) Amy returns to her mother’s house in 1979 after a very long absence. Bringing her boyfriend with her Dominic Tyghe (Jake Mechling) a tabloid writer and film critic. Beautifully played by I. Corwin Christie, Amy’s view is simple. No matter what the conflicts, no matter who does what to whom, no matter the how’s and why’s, love conquers all. For her there is no reason why everyone just can’t get along. Christie gives this to Amy in full regalia. The moment she steps on stage as Amy, her eyes shine her beliefs. You wait for someone to say it because you know someone is going to even if they dispute the reality, which is what happens.

Bringing Dominic in contact with Esme is much like pouring water onto an oil spatting fire already lashing out from the stovetop.

Dominic wants to make his own films. He doesn’t bother with theatre crackling Esme’s nerves instantly. Sparks fly separating them by a thousand universes. In the middle stands Amy with another agenda. She needs to borrow $5,000 from Esme, but she won’t give her mother the reason why. The secret slides into place. Amy reminds her mother that she once told her if anything ever came up, no questions would be asked. Esme remembers and writes the check.

Larson gives the performance of her life as the arrogant, diva infested British actress who never learned to drive, who misses her late husband, who treats her mother in law as a servant in slave chains, who loves her daughter but doesn’t know how to express it, who loathes Dominic because he doesn’t and can’t honor her for who she thinks she is, who cloaks herself in British wit tightly as a slicker hanging too long fitting too snugly.

Larson gives eyes to Esme. If there were such an award for the most expressive eyes, Larson would grab it hands down.

In the beginning the eyes pop reflecting the sharp wit, reflecting the biting emotion, reflecting the words even before they are spoken. Expressive is hardly the word for it. They dart, they smile, they play games, they shout loneliness, they roll in memory, they remember the greatness, they smite thunderbolts at Dominic, and they ache for Amy’s truth and closeness.

Over the 16-year period space of time, the eyes change, dramatically. They age, they lose expression, they become too tired to speak, they hold themselves in and then at the very end, they die. Not created by slick lighting, or image hiding make-up, it is Larson who gives the power to Esme who feels she lost everything. The miraculous aging process dries up her smirk, crinkles the lines, tightens her lips, hunches her shoulders into a an old woman where once stood as a smart mouthed British theatre diva who lived above everyone. It is one of the most amazing performances I have ever witnessed, and I have witnessed skillions.

Esme needs Frank Oddie (Verl Hite). She doesn’t love him, but she needs him. Slick to the core, he bilks her of all her money. He managed her portfolio. She ends up owing $500,000, which means a giant financial problem. She throws it over her shoulder like salt for good luck. “Why pretend it is real. I don’t have it so what can I do?” Frank works for Lloyds of London. He could be at fault, but solidly convinced he acted ethically. Now he lives in her house. Esme can’t and won’t blame Frank. Amy suggests she sue her agent, but that’s Frank, and they are engaged to be married. Amy pleads with her mother to take control of her life; all the while hers begins to unravel. Amy sticks to her view “everyone should try to get along.”

Even when Amy’s heart is breaking, when life throws her too many fast curved balls, Christie plays her with the delicacy of a fine violin. Even when Dominic catches the confidence Amy plies him with, he throws it back into her face; Mechling provides the sharp edges for Dominic to hide behind. As the production continues no doubt the edges will grow sharper, the stance slightly more caustic. Hite has his character wrapped in Lloyds of London ethics; he just needs to look into the mirror to acknowledge the truth.

Separation, disappointment, failure creep into the lives of the characters throughout the 16 years as they stumble, grow apart, ache for connection, experience loss, bite and chew on each others heels, Amy’s view comes to fruition in a strange miraculous way that is real, that is touching, that lifts humanity to a healthy point of hope, despair and enchantment.

In no production, have I been so struck by eyes and an old woman in a wheel chair who can’t speak demanding attention, all the while engaged in the frantic lives of characters juxtapositioning themselves miles apart from each other.

Amy’s View is a gorgeous play filled with heart-strung emotion, dreams that fly away returning in different forms, beliefs that survive unscathed although covered with tar paper making them difficult to recognize, with love and respect living just out of reach, but live even though the messenger cannot.

The eyes speak.

The wheelchair doesn’t move.

Amy’s View needs not to be seen. It needs to be experienced. Whatever the cost, don’t miss it!!!