Voice of the Prairie

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

She’s alive and well, and it is a very good thing.

With spit, polish, and some very careful planning Wade and Lorraine Wood brought the Denver Victorian Theatre back to life with John Olive’s enchanting delicious play The Voice of the Prairie.

As a Grand Dame of Denver’s theatre community, George Swartz built the wonderful Victorian house in 1911 on 42nd & Hooker Street. With a penchant for Shakespeare clamoring inside of him, he built a theatre in the basement to accommodate a fascinated audience over his love of The Bard. Named The Bungalow Theatre, the house and theatre served the needs of several organizations after his death in 1937. During the early 1980s it was re-named The Denver Victorian passing through a variety of owners, until 2000 when its doors were forced to close.

Wade could not forget the many productions he played and directed on that small stage. He continued his acting and directing career with Rick Bernstein at the Morrison Theatre and recently at Miners Alley Playhouse in Golden, but that grand old lady on Hooker Street gnawed away in his imagination with the how’s and why’s and what if’s. As many fine, grand old ladies have the capacity to do, she had her clutches deep inside with no intent of letting go. There was only one solution. Buy her letting her do what she does best: theatre.

In the process of opening her doors, he brought to life the art of storytelling with The Voice of the Prairie directed by one of Denver’s top-flight directors, Terry Dodd.

Compressing time on the small stage, Prairie smoothly flips back and forth between 1895 and 1923. The storytelling of Poppy entrances his young grandson, Davey. Vagabonds as they are, they are happy traipsing around, sleeping under the stars, collecting coins for the mesmerizing stories with the twinkle of con artists tweaking their eyes. Davey is deaf, Poppy informs. He forgets and pawns him off for being blind, until Davey reminds him. Arthur Goodman wears the mantle of Poppy with a snug fit. He brings the old man so much to life, one could listen to his storytelling and his con artist antics for a very long time as he sits on the edge of the stage remembering. Cherry Creek High School student, Alex Hill plays Davey with heart, soul, and innocence. When he discovers Poppy has died in the middle of the night in his sleep, Davey runs, and you run with him. He hides and you hide with him.

The source of life and breath and purpose has been drained with the life-blood of Poppy. Hiding in a shed, the frightened, hungry boy is discovered by a young blind girl, Frankie, turned into a real life remembrance by another Cherry Creek High School student, Katie Paxton. In spite of her eyes not working, Frankie develops all of her senses and sees more, feels more, senses more than most people with sight. So believable is Paxton in this role, you want to hug her and take her home away from her drunken, abusive father, abruptly played by John Rael. Full of vim and vinegar, Frankie convinces Davey to let her travel with him. Their bond is rich.

On a stage, aptly designed to suggest the various times and places the play travels to: backroom of a hardware store, farm, cliff, backyard, expensive suite at Kansas City’s Muellbach Hotel, parlor, train platform, jail cell, and a shed. Each act opens with several slides of that period of history bringing the stage suggestions even more to life. Karalyn Pytel’s animated lighting design, and El Armstrong’s playful sound effects underscores the mystery, and wonderment of these engaging characters speaking from the past.

Out of a desperate situation, Davey and Frankie loose each other, although neither one can get the other out of their mind.

Celebrating the fledgling technology of radio, an early pioneer, and hell bent-for-leather entrepreneur with the social graces of a small town hick, Leon Schwab bungles his way in a makeshift radio station. He hangs onto the vision of what radio can be, with the tenacity of a plow horse on rocky ground combined with erratic mannerisms of a squirrel without a tree. Harry Cruzan takes Schwab apart and puts him back together with a staccato rhythm shattering the mood and sensitivity of the rest of the play. One wants to put him on hold, tell him to take a deep breath, slow down, maintain his wild and wooly enthusiasm, and find a more comfortable cadence to match the character. His result is an over zealous off the top of his head imitation of Broadway’s legendary funny man, Nathan Lane. It doesn’t work, leaving one to wonder why David Quinn, a laid back shy farmer with a gift for story telling would be enticed by such an over-priced clown.

James Nantz wears the farmer’s overalls, shy demeanor, and dreamer’s wings with style as Quinn. He learns Poppy’s art of storytelling lives within him. He longs for a connection with Frankie again so much so he begins to think she was only a figment of his imagination.

Some of the most rewarding scenes in this production transforms time into space with Quinn and Frances Reed remembering times past with Davey and Frankie acting out those memories.

Terry Ann Watts shows her mettle as an accomplished actor playing Susie, a scatter brained giggling star-struck young woman and the elegant, Frances Reed, living a new life with a memory of Davey she can’t forget.

Rael displays a chameleon actor’s skill by not only playing Frankie’s Father, but also a Watermelon Man, Reed’s controlling asthmatic fiancé, James, and a jailer. Rael attacks each character with their delectable demands and expectations.

The Denver Victorian is very much alive and well. This production is a result of high ingenuity, creativity and expertise, and should not be missed. It is a shame the run cannot be extended. Perhaps The Vic would consider remounting it in the not too distant future.