This story was originally published by ArtsATL.
Simplicity and presence are key in Mitch Albom and Jeffrey Hatcher’s “Tuesdays with Morrie,” a poignant play running through Oct. 15 at Stage Door Theatre.
Directed by Justin Ball, this production rests on the shoulders of two performers, one playing an ailing teacher and the other his disillusioned former student. It is that relationship that carries the entire play, and actors Dan Reichard and John Romanski do not disappoint.
The story, adapted from Albom’s 1997 memoir of the same name, focuses on Albom’s relationship with Morrie Schwartz, a professor of sociology who became his mentor at Brandeis University. The play introduces us to their relationship before fast-forwarding 16 years into Mitch’s adulthood, where he has become a jaded but successful sports reporter, rather than the passionate jazz musician he set out to be.
However, when he learns that Morrie has been diagnosed with ALS, he decides to reach out to his old mentor and ends up agreeing to visit him every Tuesday until he passes. Morrie is full of wisdom and insight about life, relationships, aging and death — and being given the opportunity to pass it along seems just as beneficial to him as it is to Mitch. However, despite his cheerful attitude, one cannot help but feel that Morrie is keeping his flame lit by sheer force of will as his illness degenerates.
Reichard is so natural in the role of Morrie, you’d think it was written for him. Morrie is a self-described giver, and Reichard is such a giving scene partner that he makes you feel welcome in his home. It is not difficult to believe that Mitch has found a home in their weekly meetings because we can feel his generosity. However, he is careful not to make the dynamic seem too one-sided, as Morrie delights in the opportunity to teach again.
Credit: Courtesy of City of Dunwoody
Credit: Courtesy of City of Dunwoody
Romanski, in turn, finds such layers in his performance, zeroing in on the places where Mitch softens, where he lets himself be vulnerable, where he is defensive versus where he allows himself to feel ashamed. When he and Morrie first reconnect, we can see the distance he tries to put between them and the discomfort he feels at seeing his old mentor’s health deteriorate. However, he opens up in degrees as the show continues, until the care he gives to Morrie feels like second nature.
It is a delicate piece that could easily collapse in on itself from sheer force of inertia. It is slow, but intentionally so, relying on the chemistry between Mitch and Morrie to keep the audience engaged. Despite Morrie’s impending death looming as an undeniable destination, Hatcher and Albom’s script moves leisurely, as if it has nowhere better to be. It is quiet and mostly understated, happy to just sit in the intimacy of two people talking. That intimacy draws you in, the way that a whispering voice invites you to lean in and listen more closely.
Immediately upon entering the theater, this intimacy is established by Sophie Im’s striking set design, all dark woods and mahogany tones accentuated by a vibrant Japanese maple in the background that gives the entire space an autumnal richness. David Reingold’s lighting hits the leaves in such a way as to make them bloom into impossibly rich shades of red and orange that stand out vividly against the black backdrop. The effect is strongest when you first walk in, before the show begins, when the lights are still dim and the leaves are all the color you can see, but it strikes a tone that lasts throughout the show.
Abby Bowers has less to do as costume designer but manages to find subtle ways of visually distinguishing Mitch’s optimistic young self from his more beleaguered adult self. Sound designer Lilly Baxley also gets some opportunities to create moving moments, particularly with her affecting use of “The Very Thought of You.”
The play very much feels like an adaptation, with several passages of narration included in the form of direct addresses. It also lacks any particularly dramatic pacing, but it still manages to justify itself as an adaptation by sheer virtue of its performances. Reichard and Romanski create such a palpable atmosphere that we feel we are part of their conversations, and, by the time the story comes to an end, we are just as grieved to say goodbye to Morrie as Mitch is.
There are a couple of moments that come across as outdated, such as when Morrie extols the universal virtues of parenthood, going as far as to imply that life is not worth living without children. The play’s intentions, however, are unimpeachable, and its insights are otherwise sound. It is a play that requires the audience to lean in and listen, and, if they are able to do so, they may gain something they can actually take with them when they leave.
THEATER REVIEW
“Tuesdays with Morrie”
Through Oct. 15. 2:30 p.m. Sundays. 7:30 p.m. Thursday-Saturday. $15-$28. Dunwoody Cultural Arts Center, 5339 Chamblee Dunwoody Road, Dunwoody. 770-396-1726, stagedoortheatrega.org.
::
Luke Evans is an Atlanta-based writer, critic and dramaturg. He covers theater for ArtsATL and Broadway World Atlanta and has worked with theaters such as the Alliance, Actor’s Express, Out Front Theatre and Woodstock Arts. He’s a graduate of Oglethorpe University, where he earned his bachelor’s degree, and the University of Houston, where he earned his master’s.
Credit: ArtsATL
Credit: ArtsATL
MEET OUR PARTNER
ArtsATL (www.artsatl.org), is a nonprofit organization that plays a critical role in educating and informing audiences about metro Atlanta’s arts and culture. Founded in 2009, ArtsATL’s goal is to help build a sustainable arts community contributing to the economic and cultural health of the city.If you have any questions about this partnership or others, please contact Senior Manager of Partnerships Nicole Williams at nicole.williams@ajc.com.
About the Author
