Following rhythms in ‘Shenandoah’

Maggie Lawrence / Culpeper Star Exponent
Published: May 10, 2007

There are many among the dinner theatre crowd, myself included, who fondly remember Jimmy Stewart as Charlie Anderson standing over his beloved Martha's grave talking about the farm, the family, and the war. "Shenandoah," the 1965 movie set during the Civil War, was tailor made for the homespun charisma of the great Stewart. It is less common to have plays derived from movies than vice versa, but the 1975 introduction of the musical "Shenandoah" on Broadway made a respectable, if not record-breaking showing, and earned a Tony for its star, who wisely refrained from a Jimmy Stewart impersonation.

The key to its appeal lies in the emotionally accessible theme - a Virginia widower struggles to keep his family together and resist the demands of the war swelling around them. But love, marriage, and birth happen with or without his consent; death and violent change find him whether he wants them or not. And that idea - that being against something doesn't stop it from happening - seems to be far better illustrated than the anti-war position that "Shenandoah" is traditionally associated with.

Riverside Dinner Theatre's newly opened production puts its emphasis where it matters most - first in a Charlie Anderson of strong stage presence and versatile emotional appeal. John Hollinger's performance pivots on a combination of blunt, hardscrabble energy, unexpected tenderness, and a rich, powerful tenor, most notably in the song "Meditation."

Surrounded by his six sons, daughter, and daughter-in-law, he manages an ease of authority seasoned with the kind of humor that only a close observation of life can bestow.

"Shenandoah" will never be classified among the "great" musicals, but it is a compelling story, and the combination of everyday whimsy and life-sized tragedy gives it the ebb and flow we need to stay interested. Charlie Anderson's uncomplicated views on life and the world provide the humor, but the world's unrelenting and disinterested assault on him put him squarely at the center of a classic man versus fate struggle.

The songs in "Shenandoah, while serviceable and pleasant are not always up to the task of the story. Nevertheless, the blended vocals of Anne (Emily Perkins) and Jenny (Kristin Morris) in "We Make A Beautiful Pair" are worth hearing, and Jenny's comic song "Over the Hill" shows off the crystalline quality of her voice, though an unnatural twang is occasionally allowed to creep in. None of the songs carry any particular flavor of the Civil War period, but the waltz, "Violets and Silverbells," is as lovely as a Victorian valentine, especially when sung at the wedding of Jenny and her handsome Confederate groom, Sam (Josh Kidd). Repeated in Act II, this song gives us one shot at hearing the extraordinarily beautiful voice of James (Todd Evan Pristas).

My all-time favorite routine of the play is that swashbuckling anthem to the reason we have wars in the first place, "Next to Lovin' (I Like Fightin')." The Anderson sons, joined by their sister, do a rollicking caper across the stage, though occasional imbalances in the sound system made it difficult to catch all the lyrics. I do know, however, that next to poetry and prose, they like punching someone's nose.

Though I generally avoid reviewing children, Robbie Gutzwiller as Robert (the boy) gets a special mention for his precocious stage presence and naturalism. "Why Am I Me-" performed by Robert and Gabriel (Steven King) aims at the problems of racial identity supposedly from a child's view, but comes off more as the requisite consciousness raising of the 1970s. Gabriel, too, has an endearingly awkward charm on stage in spite of the improbable song and dance with Anne, "Freedom."

Stephen Hayes directs with a tight hand, keeping the scenes moving fluidly, and performs as both a Confederate sergeant and a marauder, a bad guy character that he plays disturbingly well. Aaron Mastin's quick changing scene design creates multiple views of the Anderson farm - from the close vantage point of Martha's grave overlooking the house in the valley, to the front porch of the house itself. Atmospheric scenes of the search in the woods for the lost son easily convert to the interior of the church where Charlie Anderson leads his brood, but only because he promised Martha he would. The most powerful thematic image, however, is the grand drape comprised of a Union and a Confederate flag, merging from faint greys into blood reds.

Phil Carlucci's lighting design closely follows the scenic color schemes and moods, and Debbie Olson's costumes, but for a few nits I could pick, are nicely attentive to time and place.

"Shenandoah" may like to think of itself as an anti-war story for all seasons, but the result is far more subtle. As the story of a man who stubbornly refuses to acknowledge or accede to the irresistible forces around him, it is not the forces but the man who is changed.
 
Margaret Lawrence is a member of the American Theatre Critics Association. She teaches drama at CCHS.