SHAFTED!
There’s a story to be mined in “them thar” hills of West Ver-ginny but unfortunately The Burnt Part Boys, making its west coast premiere at the Third Street Theatre, doesn’t dig deep enough to unearth it. The West Coast Ensemble Theater has ventured below ground before with their award-winning production of Floyd Collins back in 1995. That production, also directed by Richard Israel, was a brilliantly staged, emotionally gripping, and beautifully realized night of theater. Or in other words, everything The Burnt Part Boys is not.
The major problem is the story (book by Mariana Elder) or lack of story as is the case here. The plot, what there is of it, centers around two brothers, fourteen year old Pete (Daniel David Stewart) and his older sibling Jake (Aaron Scheff). A decade earlier the boys lost their Dad in a coal mining accident. The tragedy happened in a place called the “burnt part” which has been left undisturbed since the disaster. When the mining company announces they are going to reopen the area, Pete hatches a farfetched plan to insure his father’s grave site remains sacred ground. Along with his best friends Dusty (Adam Dingeman) and Frances (Lauren Patten) he sets out on the long trek to carry out the dastardly deed. When Jake, a company man, discovers what is afoot he sets out to stop him.
For the next 90 minutes everyone meanders aimlessly around the stage singing songs (music by Chris Miller with lyrics by Nathan Tysen) that are uncannily similar to one another and utterly forgettable. I kept hoping they would break out into a chorus of “Heigh Ho!” to break up the monotony. (And forget trying to understand many of the lyrics, even though the actors are miked).
For some mysterious and unexplained reason along the way, Pete has ghostly visitations from Sam Houston, Davy Crockett (his favorite movie is The Alamo) and dear ole Dad among others. They all meet up at the “burnt part” for the not-so-thrilling conclusion which Mr. Israel has set in complete darkness. Believe me when I tell you, if the action wasn’t riveting in the light it sure as heck didn’t get any better in the pitch black.
After all is said and done, what have we learned? When choosing a path for yourself in life it is not required to follow in the footsteps of your father. Really? Where did that come from? Evidently in a desperate attempt to make the show actually about something, the author pulled that theme seemingly out of thin air in the last two minutes.
There is no question Mr. Israel is an accomplished director. While it’s true he has won many awards, had great triumphs and plied his trade for many of Southern California’s most noted theaters and theater companies, he totally drops the ball here. What he delivers is little more than creative walking as he moves the actors and the story along in a repetitive, trance-inducing series of scenes that amount to stylized serpentine strolling.
In addition there is no consistent tone in the acting and each cast member appears to be in a show of their very own. Mr. Stewart fares the best out of the group giving a performance which is grounded and capable of, at times, true and believable emotion. Mr. Dingeman is fine, if not a bit overblown, as the comic relief and Ms. Patten tries her best to imbue Frances with some sense of humanity but is too often undone by her fluctuating accent. The rest of the cast rises at best to a level of mediocrity.
The set design by Will Pelligrini is a patchwork of platforms, hinged ramps and steps that neither add nor detract to the overall viewing experience. The four piece orchestra is split in the wings on either side of the stage and musical director Gregory Nabours does an admirable job of corralling them. It really is a shame that they don’t have more interesting notes to play. The show’s singers–although clearly capable–are all over the map when it comes to authentic blue grass vocals, and the sound is uneven.
A blue grass infused musical set in West Virginia coal mining country sure sounded promising but The Burnt Part Boys fails to deliver on all fronts. Instead of hitting the mother lode, the audience simply gets the shaft.
photos by Elizabeth Mercer
The Burnt Part Boys
West Coast Ensemble Theatre
Third Street in Los Angeles
scheduled to end on October 20, 2013
for tickets, call (323) 655-9232
or visit http://www.thirdstreettheatre.org
