A Fleeting Feeling at Fun Home

Late last year, a dear friend of mine approached me with tickets to a show she was unable to see. Being the budding artist that I am, I am not one to reject free theatre. I didn’t do any research on the show prior to reading the program. I like to be surprised. I was more than pleasantly surprised with the story of Fun Home. I was enraptured, I was crying, I was confused, and I was feeling all of the things a great piece of theatre should make you feel. If you know me, you know Fun Home has become an utter favorite of mine. If you don’t know me, well now you know. Lucky for me, I had the opportunity to enrich and round out my response to Alison Bechdel’s life at The Phoenix Theatre; you should grab hold of the opportunity as well.

Fun Home takes place in a small town in Pennsylvania, but at the Phoenix, it takes place in a very intimate proscenium. The wings can clearly be seen anywhere in the house, allowing the actors to showcase their involvement on the show in every level. I can understand how this could distract some audience members, but I personally appreciate when the fourth wall is smudged. One of the challenges of seating a musical in a small theatre is incorporating the music. You can really only have two of the following: great acoustics, lots odf patrons, or lots of space. The Phoenix circumvented this issue in a clever way. The orchestra can be seen upstage, but up above the stage. The acoustics were clear in the small house, they maximized the number of people in the audience, and had plenty of stage space. I look forward to seeing how they reinvent this orientation in their new theatre space.

Despite navigating and reinventing certain issues, some concerns about the staging remain. From where I was seated in the front row, quite literally in a folding chair in the aisle, portions of the stage were nearly invisible. It is impossible to see any action happening upstage of center, especially when you want to see Small Alison interacting with a body at the funeral home; or, it becomes awkward to crane your neck around your neighbor to see where Medium Alison may or may not be headed into what is presumably the gay union. Key turning points of Alison’s life were simply lost in the staging. However, the use of the stage in close proximity to the audience was very striking in other cases, such as Bruce’s supposed suicide. Unfortunately, this was not the case for many moments that were lacking intent. There is no conventional reason for you to be planting a tree on stage, let alone doing it upstage. Theatre is understanding something and interpreting it, not faking planting a tree.

In my personal opinion, the most vital version of Bechdel in this story is Medium Alison. The mean between two extremes, her minimal presence on the stage means she has to make up for it in fire power. Ivy Moody, a senior at Ball State University, gives it her all in a very challenging vulnerable role. Not many college students want to get their professional start playing a gay woman who sing in her underwear. Ms. Moody is not one of those students. Medium Alison is a perfect example of a college student in the midst of exploring life, the possibilities of the future, missing home, etc. At the same time, Ms. Moody’s approach to Medium Alison acknowledges the “stereotype” of the college freshman. It’s a time to explore and reinvent yourself without the pressures of familiar eyes. This is a perfect production for first-year university students to see. It reminds students, families, and exploring youth that they aren’t in this alone, and that effect is primarily achieved through Medium Alison. Ms. Moody carries distinct mannerisms throughout the production that remind us of the awkward transitions of life, and again, that we have all gone or will go through. Oh, and her voice is absolutely killer.

In a production designed for eight actors, every single detail is seen and remembered. This can be advantageous, but at the Phoenix, it backfired on one of their key players, Emily Ristine. Ms. Ristine plays the role of Helen, a wife seemingly clueless of her husband’s sexuality. Helen has the challenge of living in two different worlds, which we see collide in her ballad “Days and Days.” Unfortunately for Ms. Ristine, she could not fully commit to either reality. All throughout the first act, her choices lacked support, and her presence on stage was thin. It takes Medium Alison’s confession and her husband’s lunacy in the second act to develop her character, far too long for the audience to become interested. Ms. Ristine eventually redeems herself on stage with her tremendous voice…but it would be nice to see her many layers right off the bat. The same critiques could be said of Brandon Alstott, who’s primary role is Roy. In his attempts to portray a high school junior and a blue collar working man, Mr. Alstott is not the best choice to play either age. Either his interactions with the Bechdel children seem forced, or being preyed on by a closeted gay man becomes nearly laughable. These scenarios should be played out with all the tension that is written and deserved for them, and Mr. Alstott cannot to them justice, not because of his talent (which is prevalent in “Raincoat of Love”), but simply because of his age. The Phoenix has the ability to control casting decisions better than this.

At the same time, the small casting allows brilliant actors to shine through. No one could have played Bruce better than Eric J. Olson. Right of the bat, the hints of Bruce’s homosexuality were so subtle. Looking for his bronzer, ogling over himself in the mirror, and arguing outfits with Small Alison were the prime examples of Mr. Olson’s ability to play up what Bruce is trying to play down. At the same time, the more serious consequences of suppressing one’s identity are also seen. Bruce spends the entire show compensating for his sexuality through his daughter, a dangerous action for both characters. No matter what he does, however, Bruce ends up being ashamed of himself and putting himself at risk, as evidenced by the end of the show. Mr. Olson does an excellent job of embodying this multi-faceted relationship with his Alisons. The irony of the writing is the Alison that Bruce influences the most is the one he never truly sees, Alison played by Cynthia Collins. Her unwavering presence on stage shows the audience how her father has created the woman she has become. Whether that is good or bad is up to the audience to decide. Ms. Collins may not be the best performer on her own, but when she spends an entire production developing the central relationship of a plot, her talent comes through. She plays well both the humorous moments of her past and the fearful moments of the present, leaving the audience wondering what Alison Bechdel will truly be like in the future.

There is an inherent danger in casting children in a show. The danger is that the audience thinks they’re “good” because they are overcome with empathy for their efforts. That is not the case at the Phoenix. Amelia Ray, Aiden Shurr, and Jacob McVay play their character’s quite transparently, and it is clear to see the talent they possess and the effort they put into their work. Ms. Ray’s task is a difficult one, portraying a budding butch at the ripe old age of twelve. Small Alison may idolize “the old school butch” on a very literal level, but Ms. Ray idolizes the same character very clearly in her role. However, she does the best with what she knows. She knows how to stay present in any level of scene-work, she knows how to command attention, and she knows how to sing her heart out. Add in an emotionally diverse script, liquid-smooth melodies, and a diverse cast, and you’ve got a recipe for a working and learning experience.

The show was tastefully designed with the backgrounds of the characters put into consideration. Bruce is an architecture fiend, which was evident in the design of the structured columns and the selection of the furniture on stage. Jim Ream took the small budget of the Phoenix Theatre and created a practical yet elegant set. This is fairly easy to accomplish in a more contemporary setting across multiple facets of theatre, especially in the costume department. Stephen R. Hollenbeck had the challenge of costuming actors across different time periods. Though we see three different stages of Alison’s character, it is clear when any Alison is on stage. The continuity of her Converse conveys the quirkiness she has always possessed. Bruce may be wearing a button down and a tie to a party, but he has to wear pink to compensate for his repressed sexuality. Then, when he travels to New York and the pressures of small-town Pennsylvania are off, his buttons come down in a mustard yellow top that screams “closeted gay” in the most appropriate way. Even Helen undergoes a subtle change in dress as her character finally develops. As soon as Medium Alison announces her discovery to her family, Helen, feeling she has failed as a mother, is more reserved and modest in her 70’s dress.

All the same praise could be given to lighting designer Jeffery Martin. This show comes with a lot of strong statements that can only be enhanced by effective lighting. Once Alison reached Medium age, and announces her sexuality to her family, she is isolated in a vulnerable yet powerful wash of light. The lighting reflects the emotions she is feeling: “I’m scared and I don’t know what I’m doing, but it’s my life and I’m embracing it.” In a similar moment of release, Bruce is bathed in multiple styles of light. The “sunlight on the parlor walls” evokes a sense of calm and a promise of new beginnings juxtaposed against the chaos of his unraveling life. Not two minutes later, Bruce takes on the exact embodiment of a deer in headlights, downstage center, cut in his last window of light. Such sharp contrasts of emotion can be mitigated for the audience by using the right tools. Technical aspects of theatre are the most intriguing to me when they challenge or shock me, and this trio of designers captivated my attention.

Fun Home feels like it has no distinct end, leaving the audience wondering what happens to this very real person as she soars through her complicated life. I believe this could be the case for several reasons. Alison Bechdel is still living, so the story of her life should have no distinct end; or maybe because the conversations about accepting the LGBTQ+ community are still happening, but there is so much progress to be made. Fun Home reminds us that despite the darkness and fear in the world, but we must remember to take the time to fly into something so sublime that we forget where we are.

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Fun Home

Phoenix Theatre

Phoenix Theatre is currently moving locations

More information at www.phoenixtheatre.org