The first appearance of Kathleen Turner on a St. Louis stage brought a note of magic to the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis last night, but neither Turner's hard-charging style nor her lengthy appeal to a higher power was able to bring much sustained life to "High," a new play by Matthew Lombardo which will continue what is a hoped-for pre-Broadway run through Nov. 7. The drama had its premiere in Hartford, CN, in July, and spent much of September in Cincinnati.
Rob Ruggiero, whose past direction at the Rep has been outstanding, scores again with "High," a word with all the necessary meanings, and a few spares, too. Ruggiero's work is extremely clean, heightened by John Lasiter's bright lighting design. David Gallo's set uses only part of the Rep's main stage, with a couple of pieces of furniture and two doors. Actors use them, of course, but not always, as they sometimes just disappear into darkness. The search for truth, either man's or God's, needs more than just two entrances and exists, and also needs both bright light and Stygian darkness.
Turner, a native of Springfield, Mo., became a star after her first movie, the steamy James M. Cain-style crime drama, "Body Heat," (1981) in which her figure and her husky voice provided a marvelous overdose of sex appeal. She also has utilized that voice as Jessica Rabbit in the fine series of cartoons. It's a little lower now, closing in on bass-baritone and more rumbly than husky, but it's still effective, and so is she, showing strength and passion for her work and her religion.
She's Sister Jamison Connelly, a recovering alcoholic, a nun and an addiction counselor who uses a lot of bad language, a habit that constantly titillates a certain portion of the audience. Mostly, it shows a limited vocabulary and a tendency on Lombardo's part to seek the cheap laugh. He does that a lot, and in between, he piles one repulsive act on top of another. In two hours, we are exposed to rape, murder, suicide, child molestation, prostitution, procuring, pimping, drunkenness and more drugs than Walgreen's, in addition to Evan Jonigkeit's genitals.
Jonigkeit portrays Cody Randall, a 19-year-old junkie brought to the site where Sister Jamison and Father Michael Delpapp (Michael Berresse) work and live. Lombardo never tells us exactly what it is, but it seems to be part prison, part hospital, part rehab center, part church, part convent and perhaps other things as well.
Jonigkeit is quite effective, and since on-stage junkies have overacted at least since Ben Gazzara in "A Hatful of Rain" 55 years ago, his writhing and falling works properly. He's a lost soul, with never even a 50-50 chance at the dice table of life, and Lombardo depicts him very well. To me, Lombardo creates a beautifully understated dramatic high spot, and deeper understanding, arrives when we realize that in addition to all the other problems he has faced, he's illiterate.
Father Michael is a priest, but he's also a man without a spine, a wimp in the deepest sense of the word. He allows a 19-year-old boy to play him like a five-dollar guitar; he lies and cheats, and also bullies Sister Jamison, or tries to. His relationship to his church is shown in another outstanding piece of writing by Lombardo, and the visual effect belongs as much to Jess Goldstein, the costume designer, who has brought forth a rich and resplendent brocade chasuble. Watching Berresse caress it as if it were forbidden fruit–or a forbidden woman, or man–shows exactly who he is.
Sadly, there are not enough moments like that.
Turner is, of course, strong as steel, powerful as dirt. Like Cody Randall, she grew out of a difficult childhood, with over-Catholic parents who burdened her with more guilt than homework. She rebelled, ran away, found herself on the streets, succumbed to the kind of idol that can be found in a bottle. But we never learn what caused her to break the addiction chain, what epiphany arrived.
But there are too many religious moments, so many prayers and enough appeals to God to make the irreligious person wonder what day it is, or whether he has wandered into the wrong building.
High opened last night as a production of the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis at the Loretto-Hilton Center, and will run through Nov. 7
—Joe