Misery @ Lakeside Community Theatre
—Sam Lisman
If you only know writer William Goldman from The Princess Bride (not to be that guy, but the book is so much better than the movie), you might be surprised to learn that it was he who adapted Stephen King’s Misery—first for the screen, later for the stage. However, once you learn that Goldman also wrote the screenplay for Marathon Man, which has perhaps the most squirm-inducing torture scene in all of film (and it was tame, compared to the book), the choice perhaps makes much more sense.
I never read King’s novel, nor have I seen the full movie. I’ve seen parts, though, including That Scene. Everyone who’s aware of Misery knows all about That Scene; no more description is needed—so I approached Lakeside Community Theatre’s production with some trepidation.
For those who passed on the story or need a refresher, Paul Sheldon (David J. Wallis), the author of a series of books about a 19th-century pioneer woman, Misery Chastain, is staying at a Colorado resort, finishing his latest book. Failing to check the weather before departing, his car goes off the road in a blizzard. Luckily for him, his number-one fan Annie Wilkes (Kiani Stone), a former nurse, has been stalking him. She rescues Paul from his car (where he would have frozen to death) and takes him to her isolated farm, since the roads through the pass are closed. Isn’t he lucky?
I enjoyed this window into madness and captivity far more than I expected to, largely because of the performances of the two main actors. (Shane Alexander Morgan also was fine as the laid-back, perhaps somewhat slow-witted Sheriff, but his role in the play is rather limited.) Wallis convincingly portrays a man in desperate circumstances: first, he’s in unrelieved pain from his broken legs and dislocated shoulder; later, he’s in credible fear for his life (while still in pain). All of this—plus his attempts to manipulate Annie—was believable.
But it was Stone who captured the evening with her (mostly) controlled lunacy. To be clear, I’m not using that word in the fun Bugs Bunny sense: she scared the bejesus out of me. This was a woman who was not, as they used to say, all there. And she conveyed this in so many small, natural, and subtle ways: her mannerisms, her sighs, the looks she sent.
The most incredible moments, oddly, felt unscripted (but I suspect were planned for). Just after intermission, an audience member was loudly crinkling the bag of candy or chips she had purchased from the concession stand, while Annie was speaking with the Sheriff. Later, while she was in a heated discussion with Paul, a cell phone rang. In both cases, Stone paused in the scene to turn and glare hideously at the offending patron. She played this off beautifully as part of her character’s psychosis, but the look she shot those people…think Vincent D’Onofrio in his final scene in Full Metal Jacket, then turn it up to 11. I didn’t know that a coldly simmering homicidal rage could be expressed so readily.
Keegan Arnold, the director (with assistance from Aaron Schultz), also designed the effective lighting. I had mixed feeling about his set design, however. The actual set was terrific: sprawled across the theater, the bedroom dominated the room, while the rustic kitchen stood in the far corner, and the front door was well placed to allow scenes on either side. He should have stopped there. Instead, for reasons that elude me, he plastered the area with individual pages from King’s novel; pages hanging everywhere, both on the exterior and interior of the house’s walls. The characters ignored them, but the audience couldn’t. It was only slightly less jarring than if Annie had been wearing a tee shirt proclaiming, “I’m your #1 fan!” or if Paul were wearing a Stephen King fan club shirt.
Equally distracting was Sydney Tripp’s sound design. While the effects were well done and well timed, the incidental music that was piped in failed to serve any purpose, besides drowning out the actors. Background music can be helpful in keeping a film audience engaged, but it’s often unnecessary and disruptive during an intimate stage performance.
Happily, the skillful acting—and the tension of the plot—overcame these problems. I found myself invested in the action. I wanted Paul to escape safely, I wanted Annie to relent, but most of all, I just didn’t want Stone to cast her malevolent glare in my direction.
When: Through March 11
Where: Lakeside Community Theatre, 6303 Main Street, The Colony
Web: lctthecolony.com
