Highs and lows in Seattle Public Theater, Reboot’s ‘110 in the Shade’

Theater review

By intermission of Seattle Public Theater and Reboot Theatre Company’s coproduction of “110 in the Shade” (through April 9), something felt off. The first act was filled with exquisite singing, some clever directorial choices and earnest performances. Or at least, that’s what I thought. But toward the end of the act, as our central character, Lizzie, is bombarded with insults being spat by her brother — calling her plain, saying she should accept the reality that she’ll end up alone and an old maid — the audience was dotted with laughs. As I paced around outside the theater at intermission, I kept wondering if I’d missed something, if perhaps my reading of the show as being aimed at earnestness was taking the work too seriously. As the second act played out, and oddly timed laughs continued, the reality took shape that maybe, in the search for new meanings from an old musical, the emotional weight had simply dissipated.

Based on N. Richard Nash’s 1954 play “The Rainmaker,” “110 in the Shade” premiered on Broadway in 1963, with a book by Nash, music by Harvey Schmidt and lyrics by Tom Jones. Taking place in a drought-stricken town, the story centers on Lizzie Curry, who is faced with pressure from family and friends alike to find a husband, even if that means sacrificing being true to herself in favor of succumbing to traditional gender roles. In true old-school musical fashion, she’s placed between two (arguably mediocre) men — the lonely, divorced Sheriff File and Starbuck, a con man who sweeps into town bearing instruments and false promises like he’s Harold Hill plucked from “The Music Man.”

Here’s where Reboot’s style, its penchant for taking these classic musicals and mining them for new, deeper and potentially more interesting meanings, becomes both a blessing and a curse. Taking the already present themes of society pressuring Lizzie to behave a certain way, this Scot Charles Anderson-directed production morphs a stereotypical love triangle into a fascinating internal journey of growth for Lizzie. In fact, the combination of Anderson’s direction and Paris Manzanares’ portrayal of Lizzie so heightens the personal growth of Lizzie that, arguably, the musical’s climactic decision of which of these two men she chooses to be with becomes inconsequential, if not entirely irrelevant. If you ask me, by the time the choice comes around, neither deserves Lizzie and Lizzie doesn’t need either of them.

Reflecting on the show more, similar dichotomies start to arise. For instance, the staging, with a set designed by Jeff Church, features a central circular platform. Throughout most of the musical, the major action takes place on the platform while the cast members who aren’t in the scene sit toward the outskirts of the stage near the audience, facing that platform. It’s a dynamic choice that allows these other actors to fade into the background when not actively in a scene, occasionally providing sound effects like the hooting of an owl or the chugging of an oncoming train. Or, as they quietly sit, passively observing conversations about Lizzie’s future, they become this unspoken pressure from the town, or society, watching and waiting for Lizzie to succumb to expectations.

But the flip side is just how limiting the stage becomes to the blocking. With only one platform to which most major moments are confined, performers like Manzanares return to repetitive motions and moments in song after song. Manzanares is a phenomenal singer (her “Love, Don’t Turn Away” gave me chills), but on numerous occasions she was blocked to sing upstage, straight at a wall. It’s an odd choice, at least until you put that against the fact that the other blocking option available in this restricted space is turning and simply emoting directly to the audience instead. Manzanares wasn’t alone, with many of the solos and duets in the show feeling like the theatrical equivalent of actors twiddling their thumbs.

I wish I was coming to the end of this review with a simple thought of, “Oh, this didn’t make sense and thus the show didn’t quite work.” There’s so much to love in this production, especially if it’s your first time experiencing the music from a composing team that created one of my favorite (if problematic) musicals in 1960’s “The Fantasticks.” There are solid performances throughout, particularly from Ricky Spaulding (Sheriff File) and June Apollo Johns (Starbuck); lighting designer Carolina Johnson’s night scenes are spectacular; and music director and conductor Mark Rabe leads a talented four-member band. But for every brilliant choice there seemed to be a resulting piece of the show that didn’t quite fit anymore. Perhaps that’s how the show loses its grounding in earnestness, perhaps that’s why we fall short of Lizzie’s climactic decision bearing enough weight. I wish I knew. But honestly, I’m still scratching my head.