Dear Sugar [a.k.a. Cheryl Strayed],
I need your advice.
I’m not going through a divorce, I’m not being bullied at school, I have a happy marriage, I’m not addicted to sex, drugs, or rock ‘n’ roll, my spouse doesn’t get turned on by Santa, I wasn’t abused by my psycho granddad, my children are devoted and loving, my parents are healthy, I like my life.
But I’ve just seen the stage adaptation of your book Tiny Beautiful Things, by actress/writer Nia Vardalos (My Big Fat Greek Wedding) at Stages, and I’m at a loss. Can you help, please.
The quartet of actors was superb, the direction was smooth and silky, the physical look was beyond reproach, so why was I unmoved? Is it me? Am I deeply disturbed and don’t realize it? What did I miss? What do I lack?
Signed, Critical in Houston
Dear Critical,
You are perfect as you are, sweet pea. I don’t think your reaction to the play is unwarranted. I did hear one wayward sob from far off in the audience, although one guy fell asleep through most of it, but you stayed awake, and that is a good thing.
But you must realize I wrote my online advice column, “Dear Sugar,” for the Rumpus website from 2010-2012, and perhaps the sentiments are a bit out of date now. You have to know that the column was all about me, Me, ME. The letter writers were just a gimmick, a tease as it were, so I could vent my failings and connect with them on a more personal level. My empathy is eclectic. That my ultimate advice veers closer to Hallmark sentiments should be perfectly understood. I have to tell my story, my agency, be my authentic self, then I can help those who are flailing to find theirs.
Remember the phenomenal bestselling self-help book from the ‘60s, I’m OK, You’re OK by Thomas A. Harris, a primer on getting your “inner you” healthy? I certainly haven’t forgotten it. His transactional analysis was pretty simple, too. Be nice, be your best, learn from your past, and don’t do that again! My advice to all those lost souls out there is pretty much the same., once I have regaled them with stories from MY past. See, I empathize: drugs, family childhood abuse, divorce, a distant alcoholic mother. The Santa fixation is out of my wheelhouse, but I know how to cure it. Don that Santa suit and go, go, go, fat man.
As you said, and I heartily agree, the four actors were magnificent. Who could better portray ME than the wordly Callina Anderson, who exudes confidence when she thinks she has none, who is strong, maternal, knowing, caring. She fits this part like a tailored glove. Magnificent in every way. The Letter Writers #1, #2, and #3 represent multiple correspondents: they switch genders and ages with stylish aplomb. No one seems to be acting, they just are. Perfect.
#1, Gabriel Regojo, at the finale, gets perhaps the best role as a desperate father dealing with the death of his son. He lists his soul-searing grief as a list, and I respond in kind. Healing will take time, perhaps forever, but his love for his son is eternal, and he must go on to prove that love, even though his loss is ever-present. Good advice, I think, don’t you?
Is there anyone on a Houston stage who is a more natural performer, more believable, more relatable than Sarah Sachi, as #2? She can do no wrong, whatever persona she plays. She’s got it all, and I couldn’t ask for a better interpreter of my letters. Ricardo Enrique, a theater multi-hyphenate, is new to me although he has credits from the Alley and Stages, but more of him, please. He subtly commands the stage and is a pleasure to see. He should be added to your Houston Press’s “One’s to Watch.”
The in-the-round production moves swiftly thanks to Ash Love’s mobile direction, never allowing any actor to face away from us no matter where we’re seated. But (they/she) piles up telling little details – the folding of laundry, the switching of chairs, the actors’ reactions – and ultimately renders them under a poetry of motion. Just lovely. Brandi Alexander’s set is utilitarian and smart; while Krystal Uchem’s everyday mufti reads exceptionally well. Especially fetching is Sachi’s red little toque and Anderson’s pumpkin and orange outfit. The color scheme is heightened under Christina Giannelli’s crisp and knowing lighting.
I don’t know why you weren’t moved so, sweet pea. I was. Is it too much of ME? Or, maybe, the structure that endlessly repeats with Read a Letter, Respond, Read a Letter, Respond. Vardalos knows how to vary the pace from a bullied student’s plea, to the silly Santa situation, to the heart-gut punch of abuse. My play has a lovely flow, though, don’t you think? It’s OK. Your reaction is yours and yours alone. Live with it. And learn.
Yours,
Sugar
Tiny Beautiful Things continues through April 19 at 7 p.m. Wednesdays through Saturdays and 2 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays at Stages at The Gordy, 800 Rosine. For more information, call 713-527-0123 or visit stageshouston.com. $74-$95.
