Queens of the Stage

Theater Review

A truly magnificent piece of theater has to connect with its audience on a visceral, emotional, level while taking into account the sensitivities and sentiments of the assemblage. A truly callous heel, a man who aspires to be crowned with the title (in modern-day parlance) of a "player," needs to be a shallow, cold-hearted cad who cares not a whit for the feelings of those he uses and abuses. Rarely do the two go together, but the Stern College Dramatics Society's production of "King of Four Hearts" managed to pull off the feat - a phenomenal play about four women and the conniving man who plays them all.

Student written, produced and performed, the production was part of the annual "Sternbucks" and highlighted the theatrical talent contained within the student body of SCW. Written by S. Kim Glassman, "King of Four Hearts" was a one-act play comprised mostly of one constantly interrupted monologue directed toward the audience by four different twenty-something women in various phases of the exact same relationship. Only one woman speaks at a time, each picking up the where the preceding left off while the rest of the cast freezes, leaving the viewer with the impression that only the speaker inhabits the stage. What becomes immediately apparent is that they are all in love with, and being strung along by, the same man, who is consistently using the same lines on each gullible female. The method never changes, only the victim. We never get to meet this Lothario, but his personality and actions influence each of the ladies being jerked about on his emotional puppet-strings.

Adrianne Segal played the tempestuous Joan, the fatalistic femme who has finally seen our hero for what he truly is, but can't get over him. She carries herself with the bitter knowledge of the junkie who knows the habit is killing her, but still needs the fix. "I came to the conclusion that I was over him," she says. "I was pleased." But then comes the capitulation to the inevitable. "And then I suddenly realized that my need to say that I'm over him only announces how much I'm not." Her bitter tone serves a foil for the other women still enamored of, and deeply in love with, Mr. Slick Dog. Even though she knows he has moved on to other conquests, "speed dial number thirty-seven or something," she still cannot refrain from obsessively sitting by the phone waiting for him to call. As she puts it, "Chalk up one more on the Joan-was-stupid-again chart."

In contrast to Joan's jaded manner is that of Jenny, played with flighty aplomb by Shifra Chana Rothstein. Jenny has just fallen under Sir Bedroom's charming wiles, and is still in the first stages of love, when the world looks brighter, flowers smell sweeter, and all the bells in heaven ring at the sound of his voice. She brings a ditzy, love-struck vitality to the stage that is all the more touching knowing that she is ultimately fated to end up with her heart shredded into hamburger by his emotional meat-grinder. Jenny is every girl who swears not to act like a giddy twelve year-old, but when the thunderbolt strikes, proceeds to act exactly like the "swooning moron" she promised herself never to be. Rothstein's performance hit home with her audience, with many nodding their heads in identification or recognition as she said her lines.

The third woman in this four-part passion puzzle is Joanne, the thoughtful law student slash bank teller. Portrayed by the soft-spoken Marina Klochan, Joanne seems to be a down-to-earth, sensible-shoe-wearing type of gal. Yet Joanne, despondent over her loneliness, is sucked in by our protagonist's pickup lines as well. "I know, I know," she murmurs,"he's not the best for me, the greatest, the most supportive or attentive in the world, but he makes me 'two,' which keeps me from being 'one.' It's awful being 'one,'" she says plaintively, even as she hopes for the best.

Sipporah Weissman and Susan Wohlgelernter distinguished themselves in their respective supporting roles as Michelle and Melanie, those in the know who attempt to counsel their friends against their emotionally self-destructive behavior. Coming from opposite viewpoints - Michelle with her long-term (read: life sentence) and adoring (read: whipped) boyfriend, and Melanie, with her serial dating lifestyle ("That's the great part about being single. Every new guy you go out with, boom, instant new beginning!") - the two actresses provided depth in the script and serve as barometers of their friends' love-struck desperation.

But the real star role of the show is that of June, as played by Sarah Harris. June is torn by her indecision and doubts. She already has the premonition that something is seriously amiss, but she still finds herself drawn to this man, even while trying to break free of his specter. "A part of him follows me wherever I go," she says, "but where am I going? Back to him?!! This indecision is driving me crazy, and I hate it. I hate not knowing."

In the most memorable monologue of the play, June compares a girl's heart to a fine glass vase placed right in the very center of a basketball court for all to trample upon come game time. And what do you know, there is almost always a game going on. The vase gets trampled and kicked, smashed and shattered. Repair after repair, sloppy glue job after sloppy glue job, and still, the vase takes its place once more at center court. All it wants if for a player to stop, see its "inner brilliance and beauty," pick it up and take it home (and maybe buy it an engagement ring). All she wants is her "basketball man."

The plot built up to the fated climax, and as the story reached its denouement, the viewer could not help but watch, mesmerized, as it all came together. Dramatically, the script did exactly what a good play should - it reached into the hearts of its audience, grabbed the emotions that they are intimately familiar with, and displayed them on stage for all to see.

Glassman's script was beautifully directed by Eric Parness, a recent graduate of Brandeis University and a student director here in New York. Parness' minimalistic stage settings gracefully complemented the script by imparting a shared sense of space, alluding to the women sharing the same man. "King of Four Hearts" was co-produced by Devorah Cenker and Celia Sporer, while Liz Renna served as stage manager.

Overall, the production truly was a magnificent piece of theater, while the fellow it was written about (wherever you are, there are some boys here who would like to shake your hand) must truly be a rolling stone like no other, a real down-home, game-playing, bird-chasing hound. As the lights fell, the audience gave the actresses a standing ovation (while the fifteen or so men in attendance eyed the exits, ready for a quick getaway should the need arise). "King of Four Hearts" was a smashing success, and a tribute to the talents of all the students involved.