Theatre in Review: Dear Jack, Dear Louise (Penguin Rep Theatr and Shadowland Stages at 59E59)I've always thought of Ken Ludwig as the theatre's chief carpenter, a solid constructionist of farces like Lend Me a Tenor, and musicals like Crazy for You. (I'm not being patronizing; you try building an airy, carefree entertainment like one of the above and you'll see how difficult it is.) Since his last new offering on Broadway in 2004, a revised version of the vintage comedy Twentieth Century, the prolific playwright has kept the regional theatre scene supplied with a steady stream of comedies and thrillers. Which is why Dear Jack, Dear Louise is such a charming surprise: Drawing on his parents' history, he has penned a funny, heartfelt epistolary romance that supplies the boost of warmth and decency I suspect audiences are craving right now. It's also a moving account of love in wartime -- when the call to shared sacrifice puts personal joy on seemingly perpetual hold. It's a time-travel trip we can all benefit from taking. In the playwright's telling, Jack Ludwig is the shy, studious son of a tailor from Coatesville, Pennsylvania. Armed with his new medical degree, he is a captain in the army, stationed in Medford, Oregon, where he tends to gravely wounded soldiers returning from the Pacific. Louise Rabiner is a Brooklyn go-getter, alternately winsome and brassy, bent on conquering Broadway; until that day arrives, she makes the standard unemployed actress rounds of subsistence jobs and endless auditions. Their parents, looking to make a match, urge them to write; since neither has anything going on in the romance department, why not? As it happens, Jack requires a certain amount of drawing out; his early letters have all the charm of encyclopedia entries. But Louise is not to be denied and soon they have fallen into the kind of written courtship that could never happen today. Maybe it is easier to share your deepest thoughts with a semi-stranger: In any case, they are several letters into their correspondence before photos are exchanged, and they are deeply involved long before they can meet. Indeed, for much of Dear Jack, Dear Louise, it's not clear they ever will come face to face. His furloughs are constantly postponed by one crisis or another; when he finally gets a five-day leave, she lands a national tour of the Olsen and Johnson revue Hellzapoppin', sending her out of town. His disappointment is palpable, but in an especially touching sequence, he urges her to follow her dream, noting that they'll catch up some other time. But it looks as if this longed-for meeting might never happen when Jack is sent to France and, later, is reported missing in action. It's a mark of the play's effectiveness that even though it is obvious they will meet -- otherwise, there will be no Ken Ludwig and no play at 59E59 -- this turn of events generates considerable suspense and concern. One of Dear Jack, Dear Louise's strongest qualities is its poignant awareness of ordinary happiness overruled by crises unfolding half a world away. It's also a measure of Stephen Nachamie's delicately handled, smartly cast production that Jack and Louise soon seem like old friends. Michael Liebhauser captures Jack's earnest, slightly stolid manner, mining it for laughter and real feeling. Especially amusing is his panic at the thought of Louise visiting his family in Coatesville, where, lying in wait, are the dozen or so aunts who have thoroughly shredded his previous girlfriends. He is graceful when confessing to a brief fling with a nurse, undertaken as a salve from the pains and loneliness of war. And wait for the catch in his voice as he describes the broken men he attends to every day; it's a tiny pause that contains a world of heartbreak. This is Liebhauser's Off-Broadway debut, and he makes the most of it. Alexandra Fortin's Louise is chatty, candid, and, when aroused, capable of calling up furies, whether draping herself on a chaise longue to demonstrate the correct way of playing a lady of the evening or delivering a juicy excerpt from a coveted role in Arsenic and Old Lace. She will also cheerfully admit that aiming for a high B-flat in a singing audition, she sounded "like a chainsaw trying to cut through aluminum," and behold her rage when referring to the roommate who deftly thieves the job she was certain was hers. In a softer mood, she explains her gig as a USO hostess, most notably the conversational rules she must follow lest she upset her war-scarred dancing partners. When she learns that Jack may be lost forever, the crushing of her spirit feels utterly real. Even in their lightest moments, neither actor loses sight of the war that casts a long shadow over their romance. The production benefits from a set, by Christian Fleming, that neatly divides the stage into the two worlds of Jack's barracks and Louise's bedroom; lighting designer Keith A. Truax adds to the contrast by casting Jack's room in white light while washing Louise's area in a light violet. Fleming's costumes are precisely rendered, whether in matters of military detail or the seamed stockings that defined the era's fashions. Jeff Knapp's sound design blends a playlist of period hits ("The Hut Sut Song," by Sammy Kaye," "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy") with disturbing bursts of gunfire and explosions. Dear Jack, Dear Louise climaxes in Times Square on V-E Day. (Check the look of dismay on Liebhauser's face, as Jack realizes this might not be the ideal spot to meet someone for the first time.) I have no idea if this is how Ludwig's family romance played out. Even if it is a pure theatrical invention, it is what should have happened. And it brings a thoroughly beguiling evening to exactly the right conclusion. Ken Ludwig has done his parents proud. --David Barbour 
|
