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"What is there left for us that have seen the newly discovered
stability of things changed from enthusiasm to weariness but to rediscover
an art of the theatre, which shall be joyful, fantastic, extravagant,
whimsical, beautiful, resonant, and altogether RECKLESS?"
-- William Butler Yeats
1901 |
Kurt Schneiderman's Subversive Theatre Collective is presenting DROP HAMMER as the third installment in their "Workers' Power Play Series," and it is the first full-length production of the play ever in Buffalo. And this is a Buffalo blue-collar tale, a slice-of-life story that might still fester in the minds of some, the playwright among them. Fried has written a dozen or so plays, many about his union activist activities here and elsewhere, and DROP HAMMER -- so named after a large machine that pounds metal into shapes -- is again a scathing indictment of greedy corporations, FBI-planted "moles," hard work for low wages, and, to balance the books, unscrupulous behavior among the union membership. The drop hammer machine, loud and unsettling, can be heard as a noisy metaphor throughout the play. Metal it can shape; people, most likely not. The play, full of shout and curse and accusation, can be seen at the new Manny Fried Playhouse, a space on the third floor of the old and cavernous Great Arrow Building, and the intimacy of the room serves the story well. A theft from union coffers -- fees, dues, "cushion" money -- has the membership upset and pointing fingers at one Carl Morgan, a foreman of sorts, a good-time guy who seems cavalier about the missing cash. The missing fund is only the catalyst for other issues: the front office is threatening factory relocation; somebody in the rank-and-file is leaking union sentiment; there's talk of bribe-taking among the membership. The officer from the national union -- read Manny Fried into the character of Dave Sigmund -- is agitated and exasperated and faced with eroding trust among the union brothers. Local issues reach the boiling point; further divisions and union-busting loom. It is testimony to Fried's writing skill that he, while exposing the larger issues among crowds, still manages riveting mano a mano mini-dramas: Sigmund with Morgan or local president Stosh; Morgan and his wife or accuser Howie or accountant Frank Ryan. Great, enlightening minutes here. Schneiderman's direction is also skilled here, meetings boisterous but controlled, the individual personal battles torrid and often on the verge of violence. The plight of the American worker is extolled, and it is not pretty. Schneiderman has a large cast to work with, many from his Subversive company: Key roles are played by Tim Eimiller, quietly strong and solid as Sigmund; Victor Morales, David Hoffmann, Betsy Bittar, Marshall Maxwell and Jack Agugliaro, as no-nonsense but fair Ryan. DROP HAMMER is uneven here, rough there and some scenes are prolonged. Enjoy the night? Probably not. But you'll learn much from Fried's laser-like observations and experiences. Some months back, Fried starred in a one-man memoir titled BOILERMAKERS & MARTINIS. Just Manny being Manny, alone at a table, recollecting a Renaissance-man life. Someone asked if he has mellowed, forgiven slights, banished retribution from his vocabulary, looked at things through a different prism. There was a pause. Fried said he had indeed changed some, but then came the kicker: "Don't let the SOBs get you," advice that can be found in abundance in the powerful DROP HAMMER.
| Presented by Subversive Theatre through Dec. 14 at the Manny Fried Playhouse in the Great Arrow Building, 255 Great Arrow Avenue. For more information, call 408-0499 or visit www.subversivetheatre.org. |
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Copyright (c) 2002-11, Subversive Theatre Collective. All rights reserved. |
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