How I Learned to Drive
Paula Vogel
Amanda Farbstein & Eric Reid |
“That day was the last day I lived in my body.
I retreated into my head and lived there ever since.”
A night at the theatre is not always an easy, enjoyable
experience, even when the production is first-rate. When the play’s subjects include pedophilia,
incest, and misogyny, one cannot expect to walk out laughing or smiling. One leaves a bit stunned with something like
a bad taste in the mouth and a stomach feeling a bit queasy. The first reaction is to retreat to wash
one’s hands; the second is to wonder how many in the audience have had
locked-away memories jolted awake by this play.
After it premiered in 1997, Paula Vogel’s How I Learned to Drive won the Pulitzer
Prize and almost every Off-Broadway award for Best Play. When Artistic Director Brian Katz introduced
Custom Made Theatre’s eighteenth season opener by saying, “This is a play I
have been so wanting to do for years,” we realize that something possibly
important is about to happen, even if the story may be at times repugnant in
nature. In a production marked by
meticulously timed direction, a superb cast, and an intriguing scenic design,
Custom Made brings to the stage Paula Vogel’s How I Learned to Drive where we soon learn that “sometimes to tell
a story, you have to learn a lesson” – especially if that lesson is half a
lifetime in the making.
Amanda Farbstein |
How could the thirty-something woman, our prime storyteller
standing before us, ever have acquired a name like “Li’l Bit”? Actually, coming from a family where
genitalia are the prime inspirations for names (Cousin “Blue Balls,”
Grandfather “Big Papa, ” and Grandma “Titless Wonder”), being named as a baby
for your small vagina is a no-brainer.
But when we learn from her that “even with my family background, I was
sixteen or so before I realized pedophilia did not mean ‘people who loved to
bicycle’,” we realize that Li’l Bit has come from a clan where holiday
gatherings might not be full of the kind of family love most of us would
desire.
Paula Vogel structures her play as a series of memory
playbacks -- mostly recalled in chronological sequence – in which Li’l Bit
tells of her ongoing relationship with her Uncle Peck, a man about twenty years
her senior. Beginning with a scene in
which he one-handedly unhooks through the seventeen-year-old’s blouse her
brassiere while they both sit in the front seats of his car, we hear and see
played out a number of equally disturbing episodes. These events go all the way back to when she
was eleven as the now thirty-seven-year-old relates in mostly conversational,
matter-of-fact manner her story. Often
the context is in her Uncle’s car, as he entices her from an early age to be
with him in order for him to teach her to drive – something he seems to do with
much care in explicit, step-by-step details.
That concern for her health and well-being is in sharp contrast to his
sick, sleazy motives to see and touch (and possibly more) her young, developing
body.
Both Amanda Farbstein and Eric Reid give wonderfully under-played
performances as Li’l Bit and Uncle Peck, each full of subtle nuance and each
all too believable. Li’l Bit lives with
a family she increasingly cannot stand to be around (as we see in a number of
scenes where dining-table discussions center on her much-developed breasts or
on details of having an orgasm). Ms.
Farbstein convincingly erupts into teenage anger and revulsion as a grandfather
continues to insult her breast while a mother and a granny just listen and
smirk.
The only one who seems to understand her and to encourage
her to break away and go to college is her Uncle Peck. The soft, understanding tones that Eric Reid
uses to soothe Li’l Bit as well as the big, friendly smile and gentle touches
to her arm or shoulder would probably appease any pissed-off niece who at the
moment hates the rest of her family. The
icky yet totally seducing part of Mr. Reid’s performance is how much we almost
want to like him, just as Li’l Bit herself struggles for years in her own
approach-avoidance battle regarding the man.
After all, he never pounces on her or seems to force himself, often
saying something like, “You wanna stop?
I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
Mr. Reid is masterful in his portrayal of this Uncle whose
magnetism is both attractive and repulsive.
Equally impressive is Ms. Farbstein as we cannot help but understand and
empathize how what she allows to happen time and again here on the stage could
in fact have happened in someone’s real life – and probably does happen to many
equally vulnerable kids and young adults every day.
Peering eyes from a corner of the stage are often watching
and reacting in various intensely yucky expressions to the memories of Li’l Bit
with her Uncle Peck. Besides their
silent, leering observances, a “Greek Chorus” of three plays a wide range of
roles – everything from the bizarre set of relatives worthy of much loathing to
the unseen singers of the radio harmonies of the 1960’s (“In the Still of the
Night,” “Surfer Girl,” etc.) that Li’l Bit likes to tune into while driving
along with her Uncle on the back roads where he lures her.
Valerie Fachman, Amanda Farbstein & Gianna DiGregorio Rivera |
Among other roles, David Schiller is the abhorrent “Big
Papa,” using his gravelly voice and slurping tongue to full advantage as the
old geezer we hate in a moment’s meeting.
Valerie Fachman plays Li’l Bit’s mother as well as the Aunt Mary who
gives a sad defense of her husband Peck that sounds too convincingly real not
to be similar to what many family members often say as they sweep under the rug
pedophilia incidents that they want to hide, ignore, and forget. Gianna DiGregorio Rivera takes on a mirror
image of Li’l Bit at one point, suggesting the out-of-body experience we all
have sometimes in seeing ourselves in incidents that are just too unreal really
to be us. All three are also too
reminiscent of the teenagers that plagued many of us as they tease and torture
Li’l Bit over her well-endowed breasts.
Katja Rivera masterfully directs the series of difficult
memories with a flow of recollections that comes in wave after wave, seamlessly. At the same time, there are moments for both
Li’l Bit and us to breathe more easily as director and playwright join forces as
the young woman describes idyllic, pastoral scenes of rural Maryland – offering
quiet pictures of the surrounding beauty Li’l Bit still remembers in great
detail even after all that was so ugly has occurred to her in those very locations.
Tom O’Brien has created in the small setting a sweeping set
design that creates on one side a monument to the automobile and the open road
as well cordons off in an opposite corner a space where Chorus and Family can
play out their roles. Maxx Kurzunki’s
lighting and Ryan Lee Short’s sound designs along with Kathleen Qiu’s costumes
round out a production team’s efforts where each has contributed to a Custom Made
production tough to watch but important to see.
Rating: 4 E
How I Learned to Drive
continues through October 7, 2017 at Custom Made Theatre, 533 Sutter Street,
San Francisco. Tickets are available
online at www.custommade.org or by
calling 415-789-2682 (CMTC).
Photos by Jay Yamada
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