‘The Night Alive’ Explores Grief, Hopelessness at Altarena

Leo Tolstoy is responsible for the wonderful oversimplification that “All great literature is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town.” The newest play being offered at the Altarena Playhouse , Conor McPherson’s The Night Alive , begins with the latter and ends, well, let’s not spoil the ending.

Named Best Play of 2013-2014 by the New York Drama Critics Circle, The Night Alive is now directed by Katina Psihos Letheule at the Altarena, and stars five strong actors. It is a story that is familiar in many ways, not all of them easy or pleasant. All of the characters—good guy Tommy (John Tranchitella), his troubled pal Doc (Dan Kolodny), Maurice (Geoffrey Colton) who owns the house they live in, Aimee (Sarah Jiang) who moves in, and her friend Kenneth (Jonathan Covey)—are not in great places. They’re down on their luck, have been kicked to the curb, are living on the mean streets, and yet the writing, acting, and directing compel us to pay attention to these folks and open our hearts to them (or at least four out of five of the above).

The play feels like David Mamet or Sam Shepard in tone, language, and theme. In this case they’re poor Dubliners contending with loss, divorce, poverty, domestic abuse, and despair. At the core are Tommy and Doc, a modern George and Lennie, looking out for each other in a mostly symbiotic way. Into their lives arrives Aimee with a broken nose and spirit. They accommodate her in a loving way and the three share moments of generosity and humor. But then another character shows up—Aimee’s boyfriend Kenneth—and brings tension to the play, so much so that there are signs in the lobby warning the audience about what they’re about to see.

As the story moves forward, the friction of interaction reveals who these people are. We learn about Tommy’s ex-wife and children, about Maurice’s grief, what Tommy and Doc do for work, and about Aimee’s woeful circumstances. We also learn about these characters, in ways both fascinating and authentic, from the seemingly insignificant things they do for and to one another. They’re Irish, so they offer and have tea. They bring home chips to share. Tommy thoughtfully gives Aimee a coat because she’s without. How and where they live also is informative—their immediate surroundings are helter-skelter. There are trash bags but no trash can; there are no dressers so cardboard boxes hold clothing; the beds are unmade; and there’s no fridge.

The actors go about their business with intention, and there’s a kind of artful clumsiness to them all. Tranchitella and Kolodny have a terrific pals-y way about them that’s really quite beautiful. Their buddy connection grows and warms from lights to curtain. Colton as Maurice is really good as his grumpiness shifts to care. As for Kenneth, let’s just say Covey is terrific at portraying him as a menacingly horrible person, so much so that I wanted to hiss him during bows and applause, but I couldn’t because he’s so good. It is Jiang, however, who plays Aimee with such focus and nuance, who vibrates most powerfully. I could write at length about how she holds her tea mug, caressing it like a last friend, all while her body is collapsed inward. Her look—attractive yet disheveled—is curated with costume and hair, but it’s really about gesture, how she averts her eyes, keeps her distance. Her performance is riveting.

The sets at the Altarena have been terrific this season, and the one here, designed by director/artistic director Letheule, is terrific. It’s kind of gross—shabby wallpaper, stains on the walls, and stuff stowed haphazardly under the beds—but it matches these people and their lives. More than a few times a character uses or reuses a brown paper sack and in some ways that object comes to represent the three core characters. They’re utilitarian, simple in design and function, and decidedly worn, but the handles are still attached so they work just fine. There’s grace and glory in that, and in this play. Earlier I used cliches to describe their status, so I’ll leave with one more: These folks are all doing the best they can. This is a play about real people who struggle day to day more than they should have to. But in their struggle there is heroism from being kind, decent, and fair. And from sharing chips.

The Night Alive runs Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 2 p.m., through September 22, at the Altarena Playhouse, 1409 High Street. Tickets may be purchased online at the Altarena Playhouse website.

Gene Kahane is the founder of the Foodbank Players , a lifelong teacher, and former Poet Laureate for the City of Alameda. Reach him at gene@alamedapost.com . His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Gene-Kahane .

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