A CHRISTMAS MEMORY

My holiday season got off to a lovely start. The night after Thanksgiving, Mr. X and I attended the opening night of A Christmas Memory at the Sierra Madre Playhouse. That entire cute town is enough to put you in a holiday mood to begin with, but we also became fans of this production.

Mr. X was particularly fond of it, stating, “The show is light and charming throughout most of the evening, and in the end, unexpectedly moving.” He added, “Solid performances from a confident and prepared cast made the audience comfortable and anxious for what was to come.” He also made the wonderful point, “The show offers a respite to the numbing barrage of today’s headlines.”

Even though it’s based on a short story by Truman Capote, which should make it famous to literary-inclined peeps such as myself, I was not aware of what the story is about. So, it was all new to me. And it’s a musical, to boot.

You know what? In the spirit of the holidays, I’m actually going to dispense with my usual critical analysis of the show, and basically give you some more of Mr. X’s sentiments on it. Halfway through the first act, he leaned over to me and whispered, “In a world of bombing and horror, this is a gentle diversion.”

Yes, some cast members can sing better than others, and I had a few other picayune notes, but all in all, it’s the nostalgic, bittersweet story that counts. Most of the execution is excellent, as well.

And even though parts of the set were too noisy when moved, it was just right for that stage, and set the mood perfectly. Mr. X remarked, “It’s difficult to make a small space expansive, but that’s what was accomplished.” We both took note of, and loved, that the trio of excellent musicians was on-stage for the duration, at the back, surrounded by the reeds of the terrain of Monroe, Alabama. Cute touch. (Mr. X noted that the three “fine musicians” were “obvious but not obtrusive.” Right on.)

And though several of the musical numbers seemed a bit under-rehearsed, at least we could make out almost every lyric, which are, for the most part, clever.

A Christmas Memory is a tale of a period in the life of Truman Capote as a young boy. His parents had left him in the care of three elderly relatives in Alabama, in the 1930s. He bonded with one woman, and were best friends. Some people may think that’s a bit of a stretch in real life, but I had a similar experience, so the whole thing got to me a bit. (Mine is more of a Peter Pan story, and I’ll tell it at the end of this review.) The only thing is that the way the actress (Diane Kelber) portrayed her character of the fun relative, or was directed to, we weren’t sure if she was supposed to be mentally-challenged or she was just Southern. I think it was that she was at least slow. But we could see their bond right away. And the boy who played the role on opening night (Ian Branch) was pretty good. [Note: Some of the parts are double-cast because of the busy season. ]

You’ll be lucky if you go when Theresa Ford is performing as the housekeeper. We loved her! I also really enjoyed Christopher Showerman, as the two most comedic characters, while Mr. X was also a fan of Jeff Scot Carey, who plays the grown-up version of the kid character, and was especially moved by a second act number performed by Jean Kauffman.

The whole thing was pretty effective. Mr. X pointed-out that the show was “moving,” and I must agree because by the end, I was sobbing my guts out. Which is a good thing.

Mr. X He summed it up (much better than I can) thusly: “However cold the night, whatever the temperature of the theater, audiences will be warmed by this production.”

Speaking of this theatre, I have to remind you that I’m a fan. I love that they decorate the lobby with the theme of each show, and this time it was especially fun. Not only do they have a Christmas tree, but they’re selling mini fruitcakes at intermission, because the two best friends in the show always bake them at Christmas time. And make sure to read the blurbs on the wall that explain what really happened in Capote’s youth that prompted him to write this story. There’s also one on how author Harper Lee is probably the little girl portrayed in it! I actually went back after the party to read them fully!

Okay, here’s my story of when Ronnie Hazel, Jr., from Providence, Rhode Island, was my best friend, so I really understand this story: I met him the year he was born. His young parents were my friends. I didn’t see him again until he was two, and he was the most magical (and full-of-himself, but in a good way,) kid I’d ever seen! We bonded immediately and could not get enough time together.

I couldn’t make it to Rhode Island again for three years, so the next time I saw Ronnie, he was five. (And I was so much more than that!) But no lie, we both still remember that when the door opened and we saw each other, we became BFFs. Through the years he would describe it thusly: “The door opened, and there stood Karen, in a black sweater, black pants, and black boots.” With an eye for detail like that as a little kid, it’s still a shock to me that he’s becoming a chef and a scientist rather than a fashion designer!

For the next ten years, his mother was kind enough to welcome me into their home, to stay for a week or so, a couple of times a year, and Ronnie and I were in heaven. He loved having someone to boss around, and we acted like brother and sister. Sometimes he’d tell people that I was his auntie, or everyone would assume that I was a friend of one of his parents. I was, a little bit, but at that period in my life, we were usually a little bit at odds. No fooling around, it was Ronnie who was my friend, more than anybody else in the family.

He has two brothers around his same age, but they lived with their own mother, so he didn’t see them that often. But when I came to town, the four of us got to stay together a little bit, and always had the best time. I finally had people to play board games with! And I taught them some of my childhood stoop games, (like The Stagecoach Tipped Over,) which they loved. To this day, my favorite sound is that of those three little boys laughing. It was downright joyous!

Ronnie and I always baked, and cooked feasts for dinner, and we even went to afternoon tea. If I had had the twin I’ve always wanted, it seriously would’ve been Ronnie. And I had the most fun in the world taking Ronnie, and his brothers Alex and Terrence, to see Champions On Ice, and the Harlem Globetrotters, and How The Grinch Stole Christmas, and all kinds of cultural experiences like that. And, of course, Ronnie and I got to see every version of Peter Pan that we could find.

He even got to spend two summers with Mr. X, Clarence, and me, when he was eleven and twelve. The happiest of summers.

And then he grew up! I’ve gotten to see him a few more times in the decade since that last summer, but I don’t go to Rhode Island anymore, and he’s busy with college, the Army reserves, and friends his own age. We still talk occasionally, and I still absolutely adore that boy. But it’s not the same as having my carefree little buddy to get into mischief with. (I’m actually crying right now as I’m writing this.)

So I think that’s why the ending of A Christmas Memory got to me especially. I cried most of my eye make-up off, so much so that I couldn’t even stay at the after-party. And when you wear waterproof eye make-up like I do, that’s saying something.

A Christmas Memory running through December 27, 2015
Sierra Madre Playhouse, 87 W. Sierra Madre Blvd., Sierra Madre  626-355-4318  www.sierramadreplayhouse.org