Hughie
Open Fist Theatre – Los Angeles, California November 14 -
December 13, 2012
Director: Martha
Demson
Producer: Andrew Schlessinger
Stage Manager: Hannah Kruger
Scenic Designer: Bruce Dickinson
Costume Designer:
A. Jeffrey Schoenberg
Lighting Designer:
Dan Reed Sound
Designer:
Peter Carlstedt
Erie
- Andrew Schlessinger Night Clerk - Joe Hulser
As one of a handful of plays Eugene O’Neill left behind at
the time of his death, “Hughie” is something of a grace note to an extraordinary
body of work. Though it’s a two-hander, the one-act is essentially a monologue
delivered by Erie Smith, punctuated by a few comments from Charles Hughes. As if
to underscore the relative unimportance of this secondary character, he’s listed
in the program only as “Night Clerk.” In Martha Demson’s spare but compelling
staging, it becomes clear that this is a deceptively simple play about complex
subjects such as karma and redemption.
Raconteur and gamblin’ man Erie (Andrew Schlessinger) has been on a four-day
bender ever since the death of the previous night clerk at the New York fleabag
hotel Erie calls home, a man he called Hughie. As soon as Hughie became fatally
ill, Erie lost his confidence and mojo, and he’s desperate to get them back. Two
things become strikingly clear from this production. First, Erie’s kidding
himself if he thinks that he has only been jinxed of late; he all but admits
that he’s nothing but a bum, blessed only with the gift of gab. Second, Erie
believes that he has only to find someone to replace Hughie and all will be
right again, but it becomes increasingly obvious to us that there is no
replacing Hughie. Hard as Erie might try, it’s a role that stubbornly refuses to
fit Charles. As Erie rhapsodizes about himself and his exploits, the clerk
stares politely into space. By doing this, Joe Hulser is both taking care not to
pull focus from Schlessinger while also reacting as the clerk would, his face a
bland mask devoid of expression or emotion. Even when Erie thinks he has gotten
through to Charles, it’s a lost cause: When Erie tells a joke, the man laughs in
the wrong place. He hasn’t a clue what Erie expects from him.
Demson and Schlessinger ensure that we experience Erie’s arc, from cheerful,
gravel-voiced chatterbox to lost soul desperate for validation. His need is for
someone to worship at his feet, to live vicariously through him so that he can
see himself as worthwhile. In that, the chunky, pugnacious Schlessinger
succeeds. With his stubbly beard, missing upper front teeth, and shapeless
worn-out tan suit, the actor delivers Erie’s restlessness and self-loathing
papered over in braggadocio, his cracking voice shot through with sorrow.
Hulser’s high cheekbones and sober demeanor are in perfect counterpoint to his
co-star’s disheveled look.
A. Jeffrey Schoenberg’s costumes and the gin-soaked 1920s jazz pre-show music
fix the time and place for us, and sound designer Peter Carlstedt provides a
steady stream of street noise to filter into the hotel lobby. “Hughie,” though,
leaves us wanting more, something harsh, stark, and unforgiving, a universe in
which Hughie’s death was not merely days but years ago and has exacted a
terrible price from the one person who needed him but could never admit this to
anyone, most of all to himself.
