University of Virginia Library

Va. Players Review

'Water's Running'—And So Are The Laughs

By Steve Wells
Cavalier Daily Staff Writer

The fact that the Virginia
Players have chosen Robert Anderson's
"You Know I Can't Hear You
When the Water's Running" as their
fourth production of the season
pleases me for two reasons. First,
I'm glad they made the decision —
belated as it was — to include at
least one American play in their
season's repertoire. Second, having
seen this play twice during its
Broadway run, I am familiar with it
and consider it a superior piece of
contemporary comedy writing.

And the Minor Hall residents
have given it a strong college
production. Under the sturdy
direction of E. Roger Boyle, it is a
thoroughly entertaining evening.
On occasion, the acting isn't all of
what we'd expect or wish it to be,
but, in the main, there is little call
for critical disparagement.

Mr. Anderson's play consists of
four one-act comedies which are
tied together by the theme of sex.
All of them are quite funny and
treat the subject with much
maturity of thought and purpose.
Underneath the plentiful laugh
there is a great deal of substance.

This is the real value of "You
Know I Can't Hear You When the
Water's Running;" the humor i
natural, the laughs are genuine. Mr.
Anderson writes about recognizable
people and does so with a myriad
of human compassion and understanding.
In at least two of the
playlets, there is an undercurrent of
drama which emphasizes the
sadness, the irony, the heartache,
and the inevitability of life's
profound straits. Mr. Anderson
does not make fun of his
characters, he sympathizes with
them, and, in so doing, reveals the
humor that is always on the other
side of the coin if only we take the
time to look for it. In short — and
this is true of Mr. Anderson's other
plays as well — there is an
unmistakable sincerity in his
writing about everyday people
which adds warmth to the hilarity.

The evening's curtain raiser is
entitled "The Shock of Recognition"
(this could serve as an
appropriate sub-title for the entire
project) and it concerns a playwright
who wants to put a nude
man on stage for the sake of reality.
His producer does not feel that
theatre audiences want to see male
genitalia and, in an attempt to
persuade the determined playwright
to alter the scene, he calls in an
actor for an audition. Enter an
cager and unemployed mummer
who will do anything for a part
and, well, you can guess the rest.

This is still a funny piece,
although it's amazing how dated it
has become since 1967, when the
play was first produced. The
concept of stage nulty is no longer
unique or daring. Three years ago —
before "Oh! Calcutta!" et al — it
was considered a major point of
controversy. But not today. We
have been brought to accept it.

Eric Singerman plays the usually
conventional writer and Peter Webb
is the harried producer. Both do
commendable jobs, but it is Paul
Kuritz, complete with a hair piece
and a hole in his left sock, as the
anxious actor who deservedly draws
the biggest laughs. Mr. Kuritz once
more proves his exceptional comic
ability.

"The Footsteps of Doves" is
next on the program, and it
presents us with a middle-aged
couple who are customers in a
bedding store. She feels it's time
they graduated to twin beds while
her husband is perfectly content
with the double they have slept in
for twenty-five years. This explodes
into a minor crisis, and, strangely
enough, it is an attractive young
girl, who has come to look at beds
even though she can't afford to buy
one, who finally solves the
problem.

This is a fine little play, full of
dramatic irony, and it is well acted
by Russell Guslson as the husband
and, to a slightly lesser extent,
Eleanor Sweatt as the single girl
with few inhibitions. Diane Catron
seems too young for the wife and
her acting is a bit of a disappointment.

The third and quite probably
the best of the lot is "I'll Be Home
For Christmas," in which a couple
discusses the sexual development of
their children. The wife thinks they
should assist their offsprings in this
area by telling their young son that
masturbation is normal and by
providing contraceptives for their
college-bound daughter. The husband,
however, feels that such
parental interference is unnecessary
and perhaps even harmful.

This is a very poignant work and
one in which, at the end, the
comedy gives way to a moving
dramatic orgasm (to use one of Mr.
Anderson's own terms). W. Simpers
offers a refined portrayal of the
husband, a bit different approach
from the previous two I have seen,
but effective nonetheless. Dana
Levy's shrill voice is somewhat
irritating to the cars, but her
performance as his worried spouse
is acceptable.

The shortest and last playlet is
"I'm Herbert." Here we are shown
an elderly couple sitting in rocking
chairs on a side porch remembering
their pasts and trying to remember
each other's names. Each has been
married previously and they have
much difficulty recollecting which
mate was connected with which
experience.

This humorous nonsense is
beautifully performed by John
James and Elizabeth Mochel. Both
are believably aged in both appearance
and voice. The verbal rapport
of the two never lets up, and Mr.
James and Miss Mochel make them
delightful, absent-minded people.

So, that about covers it. The
Players deserve congratulations
once again. The production does
have some flaws — in a couple of
cases I noticed a line didn't have
the comic bounce it should — but
then if you are looking for
professional theatre, go to New
York. If you want a pleasure-filled
evening here in Charlottesville, this
is it.

If I were you, I'd start running
to Minor Hall, where laughter is the
thing that's running fastest.

— Ed.)