Opening-night review of *Sylvia*

At the Civic’s Studio Theater through Feb. 21

You’ll be reminded of some simple truths and learn a few lessons during director Brooke Kiener’s production of A.R. Gurney’s romantic-doggy-triangle of a love-comedy, Sylvia. Sharing and self-sacrifice are important, for instance. Naysayers are no fun, but fun-lovers are lots of … fun, for a couple of others.
In a good but not-as-good-as-it-could-be production, pacing and tonal shifts are a problem. But the dog lovers’ fantasy -- a show with an actress playing a talking dog -- creates a lot of infectious energy, love and fun. There’s even some marital counseling and lessons in self-determination along the way.
Sylvia is a lovable mutt of a play, a mix of comedy and seriousness -- something to return to for reassurance and reminders.
And it’s a script that’s being served here by two exceptionally good performances — by Beth Carey as the dog and by Bill Forant as Greg, the man who finds Sylvia wandering one day in Central Park.
When called upon, Carey scurries and scampers and sniffs as Sylvia -- leaping into arms, hopping up and down, hugging Greg’s knees, nearly dry-humping a house guest. (She feels bad about that. She went overboard. Her features darken, she bows her head.)
Carey’s adoring eyes laser in on the man who saved her life; she kneels on command, but only resentfully. Her performance ranges from insecurity to mysteriousness, from sexy to resentful, from horny to child-like. Carey has a tomboy vocal quality, full of angry rumbles, that makes the show’s funniest sequence — Sylvia’s getting livid at the sight of a filthy stinkin’ cat — even funnier. For the comedy, Carey has clearly done her doggy homework; for the serious advice scenes, she relies on her own personal assertiveness. It‘s a performance with many facets, and it’s fun to watch. (Full disclosure: Carey formerly worked at The Inlander as a sales rep.)

In his Civic debut, Forant displayed the kind of puppy-dog, boyish energy and wonderment that you want to see in a guy who’s having a midlife crisis and just wants to get back to natural basics. He has a kind of hemming-and-hawing Ray Romano quality -- the self-deprecating drawl, the disbelief injected into conversational pauses and restarts.
Forant allowed the sentiment of the final scene to overwhelm him for a moment -- but he also carefully calibrated how to build up the sadness in the scene when Greg is forced to decide between his dog and his wife: with hunched back, eyes glistening, voice breaking, he presented a strong contrast to his earlier, puppyish, new-dog-owner self.

As Kate — Greg’s wife, who’s starting a new career and doesn’t really have time to have a dog running underfoot — Anne Lillian Mitchell has a thankless killjoy of a role. (You can just feel viewers’ sense of fun and anticipation when man and are running around and learning new tricks — and then The Voice of No enters the room.) But Mitchell breaks through the harridan’s shell and shows us a rounded character during at least two sequences, both involving the possibility of Sylvia’s departure or demise. Kate strides purposefully through this serio-comedy, intent on pursuing her academic dreams; but Mitchell, at times, softens the harsh exterior nicely.
Jerry Sciarrio contributes three small roles, and while his macho New Yorker and sexually ambiguous marriage counselor were well observed, he didn’t create much vocal differentiation at all for his Freudian-slipping socialite. Particularly on entrances and exits, however, Sciarrio shares a lot of well-observed characterizing details about the three figures he portrays. And watch for how much comedy Sciarrio extracts from such little things as a well-timed purse snap and a grimacing refusal to drink a glass of water.

From a directing standpoint, too many scene-changes dawdled; the dialogue often had dead spots. Switches from comic to serious need to be more seamless — and the energy of the physical comedy scenes, which are quite good, could afford to show up in the more lecture-like episodes. Greg trying to figure out the meaning of life, Kate planning for her new career — the onstage dog should yawn (and does), but we shouldn’t: Attack those with more intensity, and both the pace and joie de vivre will pick up. In addition, the final scene, full of nostalgia, sadness, and gratitude for the love of a dog, was handled with a bit too much back-slappy self-congratulation: The audience needs time to register all that’s just happened.
In at least one thrust-stage scene, director Kiener kept husband and wife rooted to the couch long enough for some playgoers to become over-familiar with the backs of heads. But she also directs Sylvia’s rambunctious scenes with verve, and she gets mileage out of a bit when Greg expresses his preference for manufacturing over trading currencies, for things over abstractions, and reaches out to touch someone who, for him, is as real as it gets: Sylvia.

Set and lighting designer Peter Hardie has created a lovely NYC skyline as backdrop for the Cole Porter love-longing of “Every Time We Say Goodbye.”
I don’t want to say goodbye to my memories of Gurney’s script any more than I ever want to say goodbye to my own dogs.

*Sylvia* at the Civic

A.R. Gurney's comedy about a man, his wife and his dog opens this Friday at the Civic's Studio Theater and runs through Feb. 21.
Directed by Brooke Kiener
with Beth Carey as Sylvia (the dog), Bill Forant as Greg, Anne Mitchell as Kate, and Jerry Sciarrio in multiple roles

Our video preview of Sylvia is here.

Video preview: *Sylvia*

A.R._Gurney's comedy opens at the Civic's Studio Theater on Friday, Jan. 29.

The three-minute video includes a chat with director Brooke Kiener and with actress Beth Carey, plus rehearsal footage.

[ photo: from puppydogweb.com ]

cast list for *Sylvia*

Jan. 29-Feb. 21 at the Civic's Studio Theater
by Albert Ramsdell ("Pete") Gurney
directed by Brooke Kiener

starring Beth Carey as Sylvia, the dog
Bill Forant as Greg, the dog-loving husband
Anne Mitchell as Kate, the dog-hating wife
and Jerry Sciarrio as Tom, Phyllis and Leslie
(two of which are drag roles, so after *South Pacific* and that Egyptian thing at the Masonic Temple and goodness knows what else ... I'm just saying that Mr. Sciarrio's sexual orientation is clearly muddled and that perhaps therapy might ... oh, Leslie IS a therapist, you say? Well, then. Let the sexually confused physician counsel himself.)

*Sylvia* is a play for dog-lovers. Bobo saw productions at Interplayers in '97 and at NIC (in 2001?) and has read it a couple of times, and gotta say, the final scene makes me cry every time.
There are people who let dogs lick their faces and people who are grossed out by the very thought of dogs licking their faces.
Me, I wanna roll around on the ground in the "dead bug" position (on my back, legs and arms wiggling in the air) and have about three dogs licking my face, sniffing my ...
You get the picture.
That's a slice of canine heaven right there.
Looking forward to it, panting.

*Sylvia* premiered at the Manhattan Theater Club in 1995 in a production featuring Sarah Jessica Parker, Charles Kimbrough (*Murphy Brown*) and Blythe Danner (among many other accomplishments, mother of Gwyneth Paltrow).


[ photo: Cathy Rigby (yes, the gymnast) as Sylvia in an date-unknown production at southern California's La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts; from StageSceneLA.com ]