It’s easy to miss the aptly named Hideaway Performing Arts Center. Not only is the sizable theatre located out of my usual neck of the woods and even outside of the Orlando area proper, but in the far corner of a Eustis shopping center—easy to miss if not for a sign. But as a long-time Tennesee Williams fan, the chance to see Cat On A Hot Tin Roof onstage for the first time seemed worth making the trek.
Like Williams’ other best-known works, Cat On A Hot Tin Roof is a rich, character driven piece that centers on a dysfunctional Southern family. The cat of the title is actually a woman named Maggie, who has become a part of this wealthy family by marrying Brick, an athletic golden-child turned depressed alcoholic.
Brick’s father, Big Daddy, is in poor health and nearing his end, something he and his wife Big Mama are purposely kept in the dark about—not only by their own machinations but by those of everyone around them.
Ostensibly, the extended family has gathered to celebrate Big Daddy’s birthday. In reality, Brick’s brother Cooper and his conniving wife Mae are there to vie for more than their fair share of his estate—and hoping to squeeze Brick and Maggie out of the will.
Mae’s strongest ammunition is the fact of Maggie and Brick’s childlessness, which is in part a consequence of a profound sexual disconnect that has emerged between them in the wake of the suicide of Brick’s close friend Skipper.
We learn all this mostly via a series of extended monologues by Maggie, which takes up most of Act 1 and gives actress Hadley Reyes the burden of carrying the show until intermission. Reyes creates a captivating character, imbuing Maggie with a sensual energy and amusing set of affectations.
And while her strong Southern drawl was a perfect atmospheric choice that goes a long way towards establishing the play’s setting, her accent was at times so thick that I had trouble understanding her.
Luckily, my ears adjusted in time for me to take note of some absolutely beautiful dialogue peppered throughout her desperate soliloquies.
“Living with someone you love can be lonelier–than living entirely alone!–if the one that y’ love doesn’t love you…” she notes in one of the play’s most poignant lines.
Mostly, what Maggie’s desperate to do is to seduce Brick, and reignite the physical spark that once existed between them. When this proves impossible, she takes to describing herself as a cat on a hot tin roof, trapped in an uncomfortable situation that has her constantly on edge.
A more dynamic Act 2 is also both more engaging and more uneven than its predecessor. It’s also twice as long, so I would advise making sure your intermission includes a bathroom break!
Where Act 1 was dominated by Reyes’ Maggie, Act 2 is more ensemble driven, though actor Jeff Ryan proves the cast standout with his portrayal of Brick. In Ryan’s hands, Brick’s battles with overpowering emotions and refuge in alcoholism feel entirely realistic, and become one of the most moving parts of the play.
His meatiest scene, a lengthy and charged conversation between Brick’s Ryan and Kirk Klemash’s Big Daddy, is some of the best work in the entire production. Klemash’s deep voice and commanding presence went a long way towards establishing his character Big Daddy as the family’s authoritative patriarch, but he’s clearly at his best with Ryan, pulling equal weight in the scene as a concerned father and rambling southerner.
Klemash also deserves accolades for handling his Southern accent better than any of the other actors who attempted one. And I’d be remiss not to mention Ryan’s physicality as impressive as well, considering his character is saddled with crutches due to a sports injury. He spends the entire play hobbling about on one foot, but still manages to lunge, hop, and crawl towards other characters throughout, and to make his violent gestures genuinely frightening.
As far as the supporting characters, Angel Allen as Big Mama gets some of the most stage time as her family tiptoes around the truth of her husband’s terminal illness. She is a joy to watch during the play’s lighter moments, and appropriately histrionic when the shit starts to hit the fan.
In this case, the bearer of bad news is Gooper, Brick’s oft-overshadowed brother, and Clinton Hughes’ awkward demeanor makes him well-suited to the role. Diana Arca is a similarly good fit for the role of Gooper’s uptight wife Mae, who also happens to be heavily pregnant with her sixth little monster—to borrow some of Maggie’s terminology.
Arca provides comic relief at times, although her jokey antics skewed a bit too broad in the play’s more grounded scenes.
Rounding out the central family are child actors Isabell Colon, Brendon Lindler, and Georgia Hughes, who make the most of a brief but adorable appearance as monsters 1, 2, and 3. Last but not least, John Lucey and Eva Brown give serviceable performances as two additional party guests, a wine-drinking priest and a somber family doctor.
Director Brandon Boruch does a remarkable job of calibrating the cast’s performances to incorporate nuance and avoid stagnancy. This is particularly impressive given Williams’ distinct writing style, which is full of long, flowery speeches that could easily grow stale in less capable hands.
But while Boruch’s staging of Act 1 is relatively effective, the unbalanced blocking that he created for Act 2’s ensemble scenes frequently allowed actors to upstage themselves and made little intuitive sense.
Also uneven is the use of the set designed by John Lucey (also credited as technical director), with a full half of the stage sitting unused for the entirety of Act One. The design largely feels like an overcomplication that strains the productions’ capacities, which may have been better suited by a more stripped down approach.
This sentiment also applies to a few technical elements that become an unnecessary distraction—a bizarre video interlude, an awkwardly spotlit soliloquy, inconsistent and oddly timed musical underscoring, and the use of clearly pre-recorded voiceover where an actor speaking offstage would have sufficed.
It all only takes focus from a story that is strong enough to withstand many of these imperfections, or at least thought-provoking enough that I’m still pondering its themes days later. I’m definitely glad to have expanded my theatrical horizons by making my way to the Hideaway, and I encourage any interested theatregoers to check out Cat on A Hot Tin Roof during the next two weekends of its run!
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