Fire on the Mountain
Randal
Myler & Dan Wheetman
With
relatively few spoken words but instead with three dozen songs and several
score of projected, vintage photographs, Fire
on the Mountain tells
a moving, powerful story of the Appalachian coal miner. The might of the media used in this
timeline history that covers much of the twentieth century is felt in every
minute of the ninety as large black-and-white, Dorthea-Lange-like images
illustrate the lyrics being belted across the stage. We see in the faces, mountain scenes, and blaring headlines
what we are also feeling in the bluegrass tunes that find roots in Celtic,
country, gospel, early American, and spiritual music. These are songs and melodies with beats and notes that grab
and do not let go. We experience
viscerally what it must have meant to live to the mines six days a week before
dawn until after sunset, to breathe and cough (and then die from) the black
dust, to stand in water all day, or to be a young teen who grows into a
prematurely old man wedded to the mines for life.
The
photographs and the music are enhanced and brought to life by a cast of nine that
looks and acts in every moment like they are of the poor, close-knit mining
community. We see in their eyes,
their wrinkled faces, their gingham dresses and worn-out overalls, and their
often-labored steps lives full of hard work and struggle but also of dignity
and devotion to friends and family.
The knowing smiles, the intense listening and nodding, the sighs and
shrugs of background cast members watching others who are singing a song are as
much of the telling of this story as those in the spotlight of the moment. Kudos to Leslie Martinson for her
casting brilliance, to Jill Bowers for such authentic yet simple costuming, and
especially to Joe Ragey for a multi-level set that evokes outside a mining
shaft, inside a shanty home, and the heart of the community in its meeting
hall/church. And the excellent,
tightly paced but never rushed direction of co-creator Randal Myler is what
holds everything together.
The music
certainly reigns and stimulates not only much audience emotion but also
plentiful toe-tapping and even humming along. Each ensemble member is outstanding, with many both singing
and playing an instrument native to these mountain and mining parts. Particularly stunning in authenticity
of sound, look, and manner is Molly Andrews, herself a daughter of coal miners
and a direct Mayflower descendent.
All that history contributes to her soul-touching songs of the heart,
delivered with head raised, closed eyes, and hands tightly clasped at her
breast. There is nothing acted here. It feels and looks like we are there
with her in West Virginia, Kentucky or Pennsylvania.
Equally
powerful is the singing, string playing, and dancing of Tony Marcus and of
David Lutken. Harvy Blanks teaches
us by his presence on the stage and by his deeply moving songs rooted in
Southern African American history that mining communities were integrated and
that inside the mine, all skin was the same darkness. All other singers and musicians step forward to moments of
excellence as they portray wives, miners, a son, and community members.
This is a
history of heroes and villains as told by Messrs. Myler and Wheetman. Clearly, the heroes are the folks
themselves, the men of mines and the women around them, who courageously keep
moving forward in a life most of us could not fathom. Union organizers and strikers for health and safety purposes
are given their due. The beautiful
mountains, the wildlife, and the sense of real community and caring all also
shine throughout. The big villains
are the coal companies and their executives. One picture tells it all. A miner’s monthly pay stub details not only his meager
overall salary but also how most of what was earned went back to the mining
company itself in the company-owned town (for rent, medical, food, utilities,
etc.). Any improvements to life,
health, and safety are hard-fought through the decades; protests are usually met
by armed guards and scab miners.
The ultimate tragedy is seen in images and heard in mournful tunes as
the coal companies rape and level the beautiful mountains in their final acts
of strip mining. As mines shut
permanently, communities are left still poor but now also terribly ugly and
polluted.
While
many of us may already know much of this story through past, newspaper
headlines of our earlier lives, to see the history march across the stage in
sight and sound from beginning to end (much like a life Ken Burns documentary)
leaves impressions that will long be remembered. Once again, live theatre accomplishes what no other media
can do in quite the same way in telling a story that we all really need to
hear.
Rating: 5 E's
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