David Lavine plays a figure skater and Julie Leedes is a shrewd starlet in 'Kiss and Cry.'
A Theater Ten Ten presentation of a play in two acts by Tom Rowan. Directed by Kevin Newbury.
Fiona - Julie Leedes
Stacy - David Lavine
Lauren - Nell Gwynn
Trent - Timothy Dunn
Ethan - Reed Prescott
Brittany - Elizabeth Cooke
It's hard to tell by looking, but "Kiss and Cry" has some serious goals. The surface of Tom Rowan's play -- which premiered at 2004's New York Intl. Fringe Festival -- is all about concept: A gay figure skater and a lesbian actress face the consequences of fame after they pretend to be a heterosexual couple. That set-up welcomes a thousand campy possibilities, but aside from some glitter-fabulous skating costumes, this show is utterly sincere. Instead of comic types, the characters are meant to be facets of a debate on gay survival in America.
And mostly, the debate enthralls. At its best, Rowan's writing strikes an elusive balance between plot and ideology so that his arguments arise naturally from the actions of his characters. We can care about these detailed, recognizable people, and that makes them sound like more than some playwright's mouthpiece.
This strategy works especially well for the women, shrewd starlet Fiona (Julie Leedes) and her out-and-proud lover, Lauren (Nell Gwynn). They have a simple conflict -- Fiona thinks her faux relationship is necessary for success; Lauren says success requires honesty -- but it explodes into confrontations tangled by politics and bruised feelings.
Rowan lets these women endure complex changes of heart and mind, which are exciting to watch because Leedes and Gwynn play them so well. The interaction between Fiona's carefully managed cheer and Lauren's impulsive sarcasm feels spontaneous, as though the lovers were inventing their words on the spot. Detailed and committed, the perfs make you want the actors back as soon as they exit the stage.
As figure skater Stacy, David Lavine doesn't fare quite so well. But his character isn't meant to electrify.
Stacy's the symbol of repression, a people-pleaser who does what he's told to avoid facing himself. Though intriguing, he's been designed to avoid conflict, and his total passivity makes him the antithesis of drama. Even a glimmer of resistance, say, to his teenage skating partner Brittany (rescued from caricature by a likeable Elizabeth Cooke) would lend urgency both to the character and Lavine's work.
Director Kevin Newbury moves things swiftly enough to mitigate Stacy's blandness, but the long delay before the skater actually does something is still a limitation. Without the elegant pacing given to Fiona and Lauren, his evolution gets undeservedly rushed into the final scenes.
Other fumbles cry out for a dramaturg's intervention. Brittany's Fundamentalist faith teeters awfully close to cliche, and the superfluous final scene both undercuts the emotional heft of the one before it and sends the play on its one descent into didacticism.
These infelicitous moments are frustrating, but that's only because there's so much in "Kiss and Cry" that works. The play is almost terrific. Here's hoping it gets one more rewrite that finishes the job.
Set, Robert Monaco; costumes, Joanne Haas; lights, Diana Kesselschmidt; sound, Robert Gould; production stage manager, Taylor Hansen. Opened Feb. 13, 2006. Reviewed Feb. 12. Running time: 2 HOURS, 20 MIN.
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Date in print: Tue., Feb. 14, 2006