Sordid Lives – Southern Comedy With A Side of Substance

John Killeen (pictured). Photo by Alicia Turvin

By Tina Arth

Twilight Theater Company is offering up a heapin’ helpin’ of Southern comedy for the opening of its 2020 season with playwright Del Shores’ Sordid Lives, but unlike many such farces, this one uses broadly comic characters and situations to express some important truths.  Director Meghan Daaboul allows her cast to have a lot of fun with a fundamentally absurd (and heartbreaking) story, but somehow restrains them from going so far over the top that we lose sight of key characters as real people with real feelings.

Let us begin with absurd: deep in the heart of Texas the kinfolk are gathering to mourn the passing of beloved mother/sister/grandmother Peggy Ingram. Peggy’s death was both unexpected and tawdry – she met her maker in a seedy motel room, having tripped over her lover’s two wooden legs and hit her head on the edge of the bureau. An already tacky situation is made even worse by the fact that her legless lover, G. W. Nethercott, is the husband of Peggy’s good friend Noleta. To add an additional note of bizarre levity, Peggy’s daughters LaVonda and Latrelle disagree violently about whether their momma should be buried in her fur stole, and Peggy’s sister Sissy is unable to mediate effectively while trying to quit smoking by snapping a rubber band against her wrist.  

Moving on to heartbreaking, Peggy’s grandson Ty, a gay New York actor, agonizes about whether to go home for the funeral, since he has never come out to his family and they are notoriously closed-minded about non-standard gender issues. His reticence is well-founded - Peggy had her son Brother Boy committed to a mental institution, where he has spent the past twenty years, for being a Tammy Wynette-obsessed transvestite. Continuing the heartbreaking/absurd dichotomy, each scene (“chapter”) is introduced by brief monologues by Ty as he bares his soul (and delivers some much-needed exposition) to his latest therapist, and tacky country music performed by Peggy’s lowlife girl friend, ex-con Bitsy Mae Harling. In the end, despite its broad comic surface, at its root the play conforms nicely with Twilight’s 2020 theme of “encounters.” As Daaboul says in her director’s note, the play “clearly sends a deeper, more profound message of tolerance and acceptance,” and this is what moves it beyond the hollow farce of some superficially similar Southern comedies.

Among a generally strong cast, four actors particularly stood out for me – two for their quiet, attention-grabbing subtlety and two for their almost over-the-top but still controlled performances. Jonathan Miles (as grandson Ty Williamson), in multiple brief monologues, anchors the entire show with his quiet delivery that forces the audience to repeatedly refocus on the pain that underlies much of the comedy.  The other impressively subtle performance comes from Raven Jazper-Hawke as Peggy’s sister Sissy. Surrounded by the swirling small-town drama of her clan and neighbors, finally driven back to smoking by the incessant bickering of her two nieces, Jazper-Hawke manages to express the dignity and strength of a very special kind of Southern woman rising above the chaos, refusing to take sides or be drawn into the fray and accepting all around her without judgment.

Despite a hefty dose of farce in Act I, Sordid Lives still started out a bit slowly for me – I was on the fence about the show. However, the appearance of John Killeen’s “Brother Boy” in Act II instantly resolved my doubts. Killeen delivers a brilliant combination of comedy and tragedy as the institutionalized transvestite, and his presence lights up the stage – the quintessence of “I laugh that I may not weep.”  The final killer performance (another Act II brightener) comes from the director, who with less than two weeks’ notice stepped into the role of Brother Boy’s nemesis Dr. Eve Bollinger. Daaboul is simultaneously hysterically funny and horrifying as a psychiatrist intent on getting an Oprah appearance by de-homosexualizing Brother Boy (she figures since he’s the gayest patient she’s ever encountered, “curing” him will cement her place in history).  I generally frown on directors taking roles in their own shows, but necessity in this case was a godsend – the bizarre chemistry between Killeen and Daaboul is truly memorable.

Steve Koeppen’s set design provides a solid backdrop for the action – in particular, the Star of Texas-adorned wallpaper (note the subtle pink coloration of the stars), and Kelcey Weaver’s costumes are as varied as the characters themselves, providing visual support for the full range from button-down to a nice dose of white trash glamour. Perhaps most impressive is Killeen’s final costume, when he goes full-on Tammy Wynette and somehow manages to balance on his huge red heels.

Due to language and mature themes, Sordid Lives is not appropriate for younger audiences, but it provides a great evening for adults who appreciate a fine blend of solid content and comedy.

Twilight Theater Company’s Sordid Lives is playing at the Performing Arts Theater, 7515 N. Brandon Avenue, Portland through February 9th, with performances at 8 P.M. on Friday–Saturday, and 3:00 PM on Sunday.