THE SNOWSTORM COMETH

The time is 1977, that glorious era of disco, of “(Shake, Shake, Shake) Shake Your Booty” and other classics that have aged about as well as orange shag carpeting. The setting is a bar room in Buffalo, New York, in January, where instead of swine flu, the Pazinski family is worrying about a blizzard, which has trapped them together in an uneasy reunion.

But the Pazinkis have much more to worry about than snow. The bar, Chet’s Bar & Grill, belongs to Ellen, a widow and the matriarch of the family. With its dark wood, vinyl and chrome bar stools, old photographs, and tin signs, Chet’s Bar & Grill is obviously past its prime. In fact, Ellen has sold the bar to a Vietnamese family, who plan to open a restaurant, and she intends to move to a condo outside the old neighborhood. There are other changes afoot: old buildings are either being demolished or abandoned, and St. Casimir’s, the church that has been the center of the Pazinskis’ life, is about to celebrate its last mass. This last mass is ostensibly why Ellen and her children have gotten together, why even the youngest, the roving Rudy who lives in New York City, has come back to Buffalo. But, in reality, it is Georgie who has brought the siblings together. Annie, the only daughter, is worried about her brother, who is developmentally disabled, and, even though he is only in his thirties, is going through a serious decline. Annie recognizes that her mother is no longer young and that she probably isn’t up to the ongoing challenges of taking care of Georgie. Annie has come to the painful but realistic decision that Georgie should go into an institution, and she earnestly tries to convince her other two brothers, the efficient but dismissive Eddie, and the aforementioned Rudy, an aspiring writer and inveterate jokester. As is usually the case with families, childhood roles have solidified into full-fledged adult habits, and Annie’s role is to be nervous and neurotic, a complainer who is not to be taken seriously, not by her brothers, not even by her mother.

But trapped by the blizzard, Eddie and Rudy not only get to reenact old rivalries and resentments as well as discuss such weighty topics as religion, but they also have the chance to see just how ill Georgie has become. Gradually they realize that Annie just might be right. Ellen, their mother, is harder to convince, and she actively hides signs of Georgie’s deterioration, how he has begun to wet his pants and how he has run away from her at the grocery store. Yet is clear that Ellen is motivated by love for her son; he is very dear to her, and she wants to take care of him. It is also clear that Annie, Eddie, and Rudy love Georgie and are concerned for his safety and well-being. This affection binds the family, forcing them to rise above their own concerns and neuroses, to focus on something besides themselves.

Will Ellen listen to Annie, let go of Georgie, and do what’s right for him? Will Georgie inadvertently hurt himself or others? Will the blizzard let up so that the Pazinskis can go to the last mass? These are issues that might occupy any family, and they are certainly worthy of being explored.

The play’s success in conveying these issues rests equally with the five actors who all, at various times, take center stage. There are no minor roles, and even one weak or misguided performance has the ability to knock the play off balance, and unfortunately, this is what happened on opening night at the Public Theatre’s recent production of The Last Mass at St. Casimir’s.

And what a pity, because four out of the five performances were strong indeed. Especially impressive was David Mason, as Georgie, who played the disabled man with empathy and authenticity. My husband, who has worked with developmentally disabled adults, thought Mason’s performance was completely realistic, capturing the mannerisms and endearing openness that often come with such a disability. Matthew Delamater, as the practical but exasperated Eddie, was just macho enough to portray a regular guy but not so macho as to make Eddie’s artistic abilities seem unbelievable. Andrew Cruse brought a wonderful, quick timing to the joking Rudy and also conveyed the frustration that goes with being an aspiring writer. Incredibly, Cruse actually made old, rather stale jokes seem funny. Maura O’Brien is perhaps a little too young and spry to play Ellen, yet her down-to-earth performance was so sympathetic that this could easily be overlooked. Unfortunately, where this production stumbled was with Annie’s character, played with screeching silliness by Sara Schabach, whose performance was so over-the-top that the audience might be forgiven for wondering if there were perhaps two disabled children in the Pazinski family. Yes, Annie is a neurotic worrywart, but she is not a fool, and moreover, she is the moral center of the play. This is a tricky combination to get right, but without it, the play just doesn’t work as well as it should. Schabach’s Annie, for the most part, seemed more like a hysterical fifteen year old than an adult woman and mother with the vision to see what her family needs. From time to time, Schabach toned down her performance so that the audience got a sense of what the role might have been. However, the times were too infrequent, and the shrieks took over the part.

Even so, the Public Theatre’s production, with its excellent set, did a solid job with a play that examines change and loss and the sadness that comes with these things. While The Last Mass at St. Casimir’s might seem like a modest family drama, it also has something to say about larger society. At one point in the play, Eddie wonders who is going to come to the new restaurant; apparently nobody was coming to the bar anymore. Professor Martin Andrucki, of Bates College in Maine, writes, “At its height in 1950, the population of New York’s second largest city was about 580 thousand. At the time of The Last Mass at St. Casimir’s, that number had shrunk to about 400 thousand, a decrease of more than 30%. The population would continue to plunge, sinking to an estimated 279 thousand in 2008-a drop of almost 50% in 58 years.”

The decline of a city is no cause for celebration, and what was happening in Buffalo was happening in other cities in the United States as well. The Last Mass at St. Casimir’s charts a societal trend-the abandonment of our great urban centers. The little family, with its love, tics, and flaws, can provide a buffer, but it can’t stop the inevitable. All it can do is hold on.

Written by Tom Dudzick; directed by Janet Mitchko; set design by Dan Bilodeau; costumes designed by Kathleen P. Brown; lighting design by Bart Garvey
With: Sara Schabach, Matthew Delamater, David Mason, Andrew Cruse, and Maura O’Brien
At the Public Theatre in Lewiston, Maine
From May 1 to May 10, 2009