REVIEW: Where The Mountain Meets The Sea (Signature Theatre)

The two shows running at Signature right now could not be any different.

There’s the very good production of Hair running through July: it’s as loud and disruptive as you can get without blowing a fuse in the building. It’s frenetic, quaking the foundations nightly with every “Donna”, “Aquarius”, and “Electric Blues” it puts on.

Moving in as its neighbor in the much smaller Ark theatre this week is Where The Mountain Meets The Sea, a new play by Jeff Augustin. Not only much longer in the title word count department, it’s a non-integrated slow-burn play with diasporic folk music and only four people in the cast. If anything, this proves that Signature is for the people: two vastly different experiences occupying one house, yet both providing poignant insights into the American cultural machine and our interactions in society.

Book/Music

As the lights dim we’re introduced directly to the cast who then briefly meditate before the opening cue. The running thread in the piece is family, and director Timothy Douglas does not waste any time in establishing it. What does take some time to establish is the narrative direction, though the payoff works.

Mountain is a play with music, and the five or so songs that occur in the 80-minute event are often repeated as motifs but do not necessarily move things along. Nonetheless, the score by The Bengsons is a loosely cozy array of acoustic instrumentation. Each of the achingly grounded folk-inspired songs are brilliantly directed by music director/performer Rob Morrison, including several polyrhythmic numbers that are sublimely toe-tappy as well as emotional yearnings. (It could be said the songs are characters themselves, not unlike other recent shows in this space; more on that later.) It draws the tunes out long over the 80-minute runtime, making the six invidual tracks hum through ambiently.

The book is arguably its most unstable element. It’s not bad, inherently, following the paths of a Haitian immigrant father (Jean) and his gay, American son (Jonah) from opposing corners, framed by the twilight of the Jean’s life. Its flaw lies in the static presentation of these profundities. It’s presented as a series of monologues passed between the two like batons, which is a format that loses its sense of self as a piece of live theatre. A shame, too, given how developed these characters are. Jean is complex, a clearly loving father who wanted a better life for him and his family, but is also quite the womanizer and never truly came to terms with his son’s gayness. Meanwhile, Jonah struggles with a lifelong detachment from Jean, and embarks on a replica road trip that his parents went on before his birth to reconnect. One point of view could argue that due to the ephemral nature of the production (how the voices are detached and the music seems to permeate the show instead of push it along), this all takes place in each character’s head. I doubt it, even though Douglas has a reputation for solid work. It’s poignant and heartfelt — I only wish there was more engagement. 5/10

Acting

Rob Morrison and Awa Sal Secka (a bit odd seeing her in such a background role, but she does sing) act as the backing musicians that introduce compositions as characters which metaphorically invite the audience into the play’s word. They don’t do much besides provide the vibes….which are useful, if not redundant. Meanwhile, I’m so excited to see Deacon Izzy back on stage; it feels like forever since his sensational run as Stew in Passing Strange more than a year ago. He picks up where he left off with a rocksteady, frustrated performance as Jonah, at times blurring the line between character and person. Robert Cornelius is unstoppable as Jean, however, with his affable kreyol accent and slights of hand, he reminds me of every immigrant dad I’ve ever met: cold, imposing, but deep down a jolly person who cares about the well-being of those around him, even if his choices in other arenas say different. 8/10

Production

Tony Cisek’s intimate staging is barebones on a floor-level, featuring only some instruments in the rear and a center stage. But, the primary visual focus is on the cerulean jagged tear that carves around the room’s wooden perimeter, somehow representing mountains, roads, and the sea at the same time. Thanks to Harold Burgess’ clever lighting designs, this gash often takes different forms, such as bleeding, lush greenery, murky channels, or pristine bays, and it frames the action beautifully. And I would be remiss to not mention Moyenda Kulemeka’s breezy costumes, evocative of summertime island comfort and humility. 8/10

Viz

If you told me that the Ark had remained unchanged from Penelope, I would have believed you. A small thrust with some insrtruments and wooden paneling is basicaly how they did it! Guess it saves some money, but the back gash does make it stand out. Additionally, the program art combining a wistful figure with road trip and nature imagery makes things feel serene and introspective. 5/10

Verdict

Mountain may feel like a workshop at times, but it’s no emotional imposter; its vivid characters and meditative direction create a slow-burn story of connection brought together by death. 26/40