Mitch Albom's wildly popular memoir "Tuesdays With Morrie" has been turned into a play by Albom and playwright Jeffrey Hatcher.
Once again, Curtain Call Theatre has taken a good, if not great, script, and given it a great production. I think back, for example, to an earlier offering in the 2005-2006 season, "Steel Magnolias," a solid play that is similarly funny and touching, and remember the boffo portrayals director Steve Fletcher elicited from his six-woman cast. He has done the same here with a two-man cast, Richard Lounello and Paul Richer.
Indeed, these two actors are giving bravura performances. I say the script is good because it satisfyingly delivers on its modest aspirations. Very quickly in the proceedings of this memory play, narrated by Mitch Albom (Richard Lounello), we know just about everything we will about the two characters' attitude towards life. We also learn early on that Morrie Schwartz (Paul Richer), Albom's sociology professor at Brandeis, is dying of ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease; thus, much of the rest of the play simply chronicles the deterioration of Schwartz's health and Albom's reaction to Schwartz's changing condition.
In short, the range of events that Albom explores is narrow, and the episodic nature of the numerous scenes doesn't always require us to get beneath the surface of the humor or the sorrow. But it is to the enormous credit of this acting duo (aided by Fletcher's sharp eye and firm hand) that they discover all of the emotional nuances in the script.
Lounello and Richer so beautifully calibrate their actions and reactions that each scene believably develops the relationship between the driven 37-year-old sportswriter and his "life coach," the 78-year-old prof. Lounello, who, by the way, fakes a mean piano, deftly shifts from telling us directly about these important experiences in Albom's life to reenacting them with Richer. His transitions are seamless.
Two moments of an outstanding performance stand out: a wild cellphone call that reveals Albom's lack of control when all the time he thinks that, as a young professional in the world, he is climbing towards unbridled success and happiness; and the scene by Morrie's bed near the end, when Albom gives into the grief over Schwartz's imminent demise, as well as the long-suppressed grief over a beloved uncle's death. So carefully has Lounello paced Albom's learning curve about the things in life that matter that Albom's catharsis is, as it should be, ours, too. We have been waiting for that moment all along.
Lounello is matched by Richer in his remarkable sense of timing. Richer, who was so good in Curtain Call's "Visiting Mr. Green," exposes the heart of each moment with a sly smile, a joke, a wise observation, a grimace, a shaking, a cough, a touch. And these aren't acting tricks. They are behaviors that emanate from the deepest part of this old man, Morrie Schwartz, who is desperate to teach one more lesson to an anointed student, one whom he is proud to call his third son.
Richer's finest moment? Two: the recollections of his beloved mother. The players' efforts are supported by first-rate technical features. Dee Mulford's multi-purpose set design is attractive and utilitarian. John E. Miller, CCT's resident lighting designer, ably focuses our attention on discrete parts of the stage, and his lighting of a scrim upstage right is especially effective.
Robbie Gonyo has imaginatively used piano jazz, "Clair de lune," "Fur Elise," and a lovely vocal by Maryhelen Lounello to underline the emotion of the moment. And stage manager Amy Durant has successfully kept everyone on his/her toes. It's evident that Albom was inspired to write his book because he thought that what Schwartz had to say to him about making healthy life choices, smelling the roses, and loving unconditionally was worth passing on to others. The folks at Curtain Call have done justice to both teacher and student, and we are the better for having had such an evening in the theater.
