"Steel Magnolias" was a bad movie.
Sentimental and manipulative, the strength of its central characters and the depth of their relationships were glossed over in true Hollywood style. The conflicts came across as contrived, the resolutions too cloying and easy. It was a good story gone terribly awry, an honest portrayal of human connection and tragedy that collapsed under the weight of self-conscious over-production and a surfeit of melodrama.
In spite of this, there is more to "Steel Magnolias" than a demographic-pandering homage to soft lighting and star power. Originally written by Robert Harling for the stage, this comedic drama has roots that run deeper than the sandy topsoil of Hollywood.
As a play, "Steel Magnolias" succeeds in ways the movie never could, and Village Theatre's current production in Issaquah, which features Magnolia resident and actor Ellen McLain, is a testament to that success. The show runs now through Feb. 27 (and from March 4-20 in Everett).
Set in the late 1980s in the beauty salon of Chinquapin, La., it focuses on the subtleties of the powerful bond between six passionate women as they help one another come to terms with the realities of happiness and hardship.
While the movie made the mistake of dissipating the essence of the narrative by expanding it into the outside world, the action onstage is intimate and immediate, taking place wholly within the feminine sanctum of Truvy's Beauty Spot.
This is a story entirely about the lives and relationships of Southern women, who through their commitment to each other explore the complexities of the indomitable female character. Men exist in this space only as topics of conversation, sometimes-lovable yet infuriatingly simple creatures who can be heard discharging firearms in the distance but would never dare set foot inside a beauty parlor.
It is the strength of the performances that gives depth and profundity to this production, even and especially during its most comic moments. Onstage, the actresses create a markedly real sensation of camaraderie and support. They take sincere joy in each other's company, and their fierce commitment to one another is palpable as they gossip and commiserate over new hairdos and manicures.
There are no leads or supporting roles in this ensemble of characters; each performance is as necessary and striking as the next. Truvy, the worldly proprietor of the Beauty Spot, is deftly played with matter-of-fact stoicism by Jayne Muirhead, and Anelle, the Beauty Spot's new "glamour technician" is portrayed with haunted naivety by Susanna Wilson.
The role of Clairee, the widowed ex-First Lady of Chinquapin, is played with genteel devilishness by Ellen McLain and her best friend, the wealthy, old town curmudgeon Ouiser, is lent just the right amount of growling, deadpan humor by Laura Kenny.
Shelby, portrayed with an exuberant, giddy willfulness by Kathryn Van Meter, is the young bride whose wedding and subsequent health problems are the dramatic crux of the play. The role of Shelby's mother, M'Lynn, is currently being played by understudy Bobbi Kotula. During the performance I attended, she stumbled over a few lines during the first act, but subsequently regained the confidence that so defines her character.
There is a sincere, individual sweetness underlying each and every one of these characters that is neither forced nor overly sentimental. It is a sweetness entwined with a deep understanding of suffering.
Where the movie version reveals too much and errs on the side of melodrama, the Village Theatre cast is able to convey the weight of the pain carried by their characters in a strikingly nuanced fashion. The performances truly speak for themselves. Because the actresses never resort to cheap emotional manipulation, they honestly earn their moments of intense dramatic tragedy as well as side-splitting comedy.
The range of emotions expressed is wide, but what really speaks to the talent of this cast is how convincingly they are able to juxtapose disparate, often opposite, feelings in practically the same breath. As Truvy says, "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."
Both the humor and folksy wisdom of "Steel Magnolias" come primarily from well-timed one-liners (such as "I'm not crazy. I've just been in a very bad mood for 40 years!" or, "Well, you know what they say: if you don't have anything nice to say about anybody, come sit by me."). It is interesting to note that much of the dialogue was used verbatim in the film version, but the change in context made it feel trite and flat by comparison.
The set, costumes and hairstyles are all straight out of the 1980s. A radio on the counter plays country and soft '80s ballads, Shelby is fashionably attired in stirrup tights and oversized sweatshirts, and all the women have appropriately expansive hairdos.
Since real hair is being styled in real time over the course of the play, the actresses had to learn the fundamentals of cutting hair, which results in a quiet, understated reality that lends legitimacy to the performances.
Truvy's catchphrase is "There's no such thing as natural beauty," but it is the natural, everyday quality of her shop that is compelling. The absolute believability of the women's relationships is what makes this production a success.[[In-content Ad]]
