Baby, of Abaddon Mountain
by JAMES VANCE 06/24/1995
Baby, of Abaddon Mountain,'' the first work by new playwright John Cruncleton, opened Friday at the A.D.A.M.S. Theater in an earnest and generally well-mounted production which -- though at times a primer in the excesses of beginner work -- also contains plenty of evidence of the writer's genuine talent. One can quibble with Cruncleton's ordering of scenes, point of attack and other choices, but the main problem with the play at present is that there's simply too much of it. The first act alone is as long as many complete plays, and the entire evening runs well over three hours. Comprised of a series of scenes that don't always contribute directly to the storyline, ``Baby'' at times seems to be not so much a play as an entire theater festival.
There's a danger in being both talented and inexperienced, and in the case of a writer, that usually takes the form of not knowing when to shut up. There's much lovely writing to be found in the current script, but as William Faulkner put it, the time comes when a writer has to shake off his self-hypnotized state and "kill his darlings." Cutting to the chase wouldn't hurt some of these lengthy scenes, either.
A case in point occurs during the first act. Following an interminable monologue, the play shifts into a flashback scene which is for the most part well written, and which offers one of the show's strongest performances, Dale Sams as the sardonic King Crow. It's too bad that Cruncleton didn't cut some of his nonstop lyricizing and trust the actors to bring the static material of the preceding monologue to life; ultimately, it's all pointless anyway, for this otherwise compelling moment has little do with the rest of the play, as though a dramatic duet intended for high school speech contests had been inserted just because it had been fun to write.
Duets, in fact, are the order of the day in "Baby," which consists largely of two-character scenes in which actors take turns hanging in the background and listening intently as their partner delivers long poetic speeches while gazing wistfully into the distance.
As a director, Cruncleton has only begun to work out the delicate balance between interesting composition and dynamic movement, but there are, nevertheless, moments of wit and charm in his staging. His acting, however, is quite good, combining an assured presence with a real grace in movement and delivery.
He's been fortunate in much of his casting. Christina Monroe, Jocelynne Weathers and Megan McCollan provide some appreciated, roughhewn comic relief as a trio of hillbilly witches; Dwayne Jones contributes a couple of striking moments as Thomas O'Bedlam, a raving lunatic filled to the brim with Fundamentalist mania; and Dewitt Summar puts in an entertaining if uneven turn as Monkey Juju. Tiffany Jones as Mama is the least dynamic (and hardest to hear), but her performance as the only completely realistic human being on stage earns her extra points.
The burden of the evening falls on Kimberly Anne Cruncleton as Baby and Samuel Peery as John Barleycorn, and both wrestle gamely with the hurdles erected by the overripe script. Peery, as a scarecrow brought to life, fares best with his interpretation of the ultimate naif. Given that his character is asked to engage the audience's time and patience with such matters as confusion over the use of double negatives and the rules of hide-and-seek -- neither as gripping or amusing as Cruncleton seems to think -- Peery's overall success in the role is downright admirable. Kimberly Cruncleton, on the other hand, has remarkably little to do. Her announced search for "beauty" is inexplicably if mercifully abandoned early on, which leaves us with a title character whose primary function for most of the play is to react petulantly to what more interesting characters are doing around her. The fact that virtually every character has been written with the same speech pattern doesn't exactly help her stand out in the crowd.
The production's lighting is prosaic and utilitarian, but the set design is ingeniously simple and effective, and nearly versatile enough to justify the long blackouts required to shift the units between scenes.
Though the promise reflected in this piece merits your attendance, it would be irresponsible not to warn the public about the venue: the A.D.A.M.S. has suffered a serious deterioration since its heyday as Theater Tulsa's Delaware Playhouse, and the stench is hideous. The company of ``Baby'' have done their best to clean the place up, but this historic building has been the victim of near-criminal neglect. It's not the play that stinks; it's the theater.
It's to be hoped that Cruncleton takes the lessons learned from this experience to heart, for he has the makings of a fine writer. Without your support when he needs it, you may deprive yourself of the better plays he will write. Take a deep breath, wear comfortable clothes, and give ``Baby'' your support as an investment in your future.
"Baby, of Abaddon Mountain" will be performed again tonight at 7 pm. Admission is $6 at the door of the A.D.A.M.S. Theater, 1511 S. Delaware Ave.