The stage is a runway, a railroad track set about twice as long as it is wide and divided by an off-centered bed with red and brown sheets. The stage is bookended by hints of backdrop, two pop-up walls with mustard yellow base and red floral print: one belonging to Brick, with a television set, record player, and liquor cabinet, the other Maggie’s, with perfumes and two mirrors. The audiences on either side face each other.
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is the story of a wealthy Southern family in crisis on the evening of the patriarch’s, Big Daddy’s, birthday. He is dying of cancer. His older son, Gooper, is scheming for his estate and his younger son, Brick, is an alcoholic who refuses to have a child with his wife, Maggie, because he is in mourning of his best friend, and perhaps lover, Skipper.
The Stanford Theater Laboratory’s production of Tennessee Williams’s iconic play is prologued by a processional: a pre-dialogue, pre-stage direction entrance of the recently injured and currently toweled Brick, played by Max Walker-Silverman (’15), as he crutches to his liquor cabinet and pours himself a drink. While the audience seats itself, Walker-Silverman hobbles to the bed and lies, watching Disney cartoons. He exits after turning on the record player, which plays loudly and discordantly over the sound of the cartoons and the stage is dark except for the light of the black and white television.
The moment is beautiful and immersive, and a sign of the strength and control of the director. Director Michael Hunter uses the unorthodox set to construct magnificent stage pictures, physical portraits of the splintering family. He utilizes moments outside of the play’s text to create dreamlike, jarring interludes. His actors are restrained and use space and distance to build thick, palpable tension even, and perhaps especially, in moments of silence.
Walker-Silverman’s performance as Brick is terse and tortured. His focus on acquiring his next drink and forgetting himself fills his frequent silence with intent, and his outbursts or actions with great weight. Brick rarely wastes a movement or a word, and his progressive ladder to drunkenness is well-imagined. It’s difficult to avoid caricature with a boozy character, but Walker-Silverman is a realistic drunk. I wondered what was really in that prop decanter.
Brick’s role is pivotal and elicits the excellent performances by Safiya Nygaard (’14), playing his wife Maggie, and James Everett (’14), as Big Daddy. Nygaard drives the beginning of the performance, essentially monologuing to her sullen husband as she navigates various stages of dress and undress. An older man sitting in the front row averted his eyes at many occasions. Maggie compensates for Brick’s drunken reservation with a flitty, undaunted composure despite a deep comprehension of their collective sadness. As a result, the majority of Maggie’s movements are large and constant, occasionally feeling like noise in comparison to her quiet counterpart, but Nygaard’s subtle facial expressions and reactions are her true strength, moments of dropped guard that tenderly break or squeeze our hearts and lungs.
James Everett’s Big Daddy is grand, cruel and masculine and fills the space physically, vocally, and emotionally. Everett has a large beard and well-groomed hair, as a mid-century plantation owner might. His entrance, after being lied to and told that his cancer was benign, is magnificent and attention-grabbing – it makes the audience almost forget about the previous conflict between Brick and Maggie. The long scene of questioning and attempted reconciliation between Everett and Walker-Silverman highlights their incredible chemistry. Big Daddy seizes and cedes power to Brick, who refutes it with subversive one-liners and disinterest. Everett’s exit, upon learning that he is indeed dying, is explosive and excellent and the best moment of the production.
The accent work was occasionally inconsistent. It’s difficult to learn the intricacies of the Delta accent, especially with a short rehearsal period, and I quickly put it out of mind as a make-or-break aspect of the production. The accent work of Allison Valentine (who played Brick’s conniving sister-in-law, Mae), however, was particularly consistent. Her character felt authentic and true as a result.
The Stanford Theater Lab’s production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is excellently directed with strong acting performances, especially from its starring roles. The unique set is fully and diversely utilized and creates a wonderful performance that is certainly worth your evening.
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof opens tonight at 8p in Prosser Theater. For tickets and more info, click here.
(‘14, History/Creative Writing, Editor-at-Large) is from Cleveland, Ohio and writes fiction.