By the end of this masterfully constructed and impeccably acted drama, we have observed an exceptional study of grief, pieced together a portrait of both a good person and a complicated community, and solved an unconventional murder mystery.
“Well, I’ll Let You Go” is what people say when they are the ones who want to end the conversation, and we get the strong feeling that the newly-widowed Maggie (portrayed by Quincy Tyler Bernstine) doesn’t even want to start any of the half dozen one-on-one conversations over the 100 minutes of Bubba Weiler’s engaging play. But we also realize right away that the retired schoolteacher is too polite, and too good a listener, to turn anybody away.
Wally (Will Dagger) is the first visitor to the house where she lived with her husband Marv for a quarter of a century. Wally, Marv’s cousin, probably meant this to be a condolence call, but he complains about an array of problems, largely self-inflicted or delusional, while she supplies him with coffee from her kitchen and tries to help him, as she and Marv did for many years.
Joanie (Constance Shulman), a stranger, is next to visit, arriving with an offering of purple balloons. (“It used to be flowers but: allergies.”)
She works at the local funeral, and is hilariously insensitive as she chatters on about arrangements, although she has shown up unannounced; the teenager who works the phones at the funeral home was supposed to call. She’s brought along a swatch of the new floral carpet they’ve installed in the parlor “so you can choose shoes that won’t clash.” It’s in this scene that we get the first clue that Marv’s death was not from natural causes, when Maggie says she’s not sure she wants to have a funeral, and Joanie says she must: “He’s a figure – now – your husband – a hero.”
We get further clues from the next two scenes. Amelia Workman as Julie, Maggie’s lifelong friend, is among the half of her neighbors who bring bouquets of flowers; the others bring casseroles. Julie is the one who introduced Maggie to Marv; she was dating his brother Jeff, who is now her troubled and troubling husband. Jeff (Danny McCarthy) is next, bringing a case of beer that Marv left at the club where they both hung out. (“No one felt comfortable drinking ‘em”) Jeff is a member of the local police department. What we learn from these scenes is that Marv was shot dead while trying to protect somebody, but what we learn above all, is that Maggie knows almost as little about what happened as the audience does. She and we both must wait for the mystery to unfold, as it does climactically through a riveting scene with a credibly exasperating character portrayed by Emily Davis, and a kind of coda by Cricket Brown.
All along, and from the get-go, we are guided by a narrator, portrayed by Michael Chernus, who fills us in details about Marv and Maggie, offers more general context about the community, and provides some poignant inside information, much of it commentary on the particulars and rituals of grief: Joanie began working at the funeral home after her toddler died, he says, “because she couldn’t stand how quickly after the funeral life returned to normal, and this is her way of staying there – at her boy’s funeral – forever.” Maggie resented the flowers that filled the house as “a stand in for some actually meaningful gesture her friends and neighbors couldn’t muster.”
To gush effusively about “Well, I’ll Let You Go” would feel like a violation of its restrained tone, which is such a crucial aspect of the enterprise that it feels like a deeply held ethos. Even Frank J. Oliva’s set design is largely simplicity itself, with a few noticeable props (those balloons, those bouquets; a wheelbarrow full of mulch) but mostly folding chairs and fold-out tables on an un-sanded wooden floor. So let me just briefly express astonishment that this is Bubba Weiler’s first produced play. A mere two years ago, he convincingly portrayed a troubled youth recently released from prison in Rebecca Gilman’s “Swing State.” Gilman’s play might have influenced Weiler’s; both offer a low-key look at loss and its effect on the interrelationships in a small town. Other influences are obvious, such as Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town.” But “Well, I’ll Let You Go” is no apprentice play. Weiler creates layers of meaning and drama, meticulously planting and nurturing details until they flower (I’d say explode, but: restraint.) And it is directed by Jack Serio, who previously showed his sensitivity in helming Samuel D. Hunter’s Grangeville, which has similar themes of loss, sorrow and the wavering of familial love. Serio has assembled an extraordinary eight-member cast to portray Weiler’s well-etched characters, led (until August 29) by Quincy Tyler Bernstine, who has been a versatile mainstay of New York theater for decades (I have said this before; it’s just a fact, not gushing.)
The acting is, indeed, so expressive that some of the narration inserted in the middle of scenes – offering biographical background, paraphrasing characters’ thoughts — feels unnecessary; not quite an affectation or an annoying intrusion, but just better to have been worked into the dialogue. If too much is spelled out in the narrative, I found too little attention paid in the production to a diverse audience’s needs for basic accessibility. There was something analogous in Serio’s direction of “Grangeville,” the first twenty minutes of which took place entirely in the dark – creating a dramatic effect that might have been achieved in a way that didn’t come at the expense of clarity and comfort for some of its audience members. (The lighting designer in that production, Stacey Derosier, has also designed the lighting here, and in both cases, enhances the dramatic moments.) This time, there is no blackout, but, in pursuit of a worthwhile dramatic effect — that we are overhearing intimate conversations between neighbors — those conversations are kept not just low-key, but often low-volume. This lack of projection is exacerbated by bad acoustics. (Why isn’t captioning – at least closed captioning – the default for plays in which words matter? This would take into account the reality that many New York theatergoers are roughly the age of most of the characters in this play — which is, perhaps relevantly, likely older than the ages of the playwright and director combined.)
Both of these reactions should be taken as suggestions for the future. “Well, I’ll Let You Go,” which sold out for its initial run, has just been extended. That’s only until September 12. But this is a play that should live on.
Well, I’ll Let You Go
The Space at Irondale through September 12
Running time: 100 minutes, no intermission
Tickets: $179 – $229
Written by Bubba Weiler
Directed by Jack Serio
Scenic design by Frank J. Oliva, costume design by Avery Reed, lighting design by Stacey Derosier, sound design by Brandon Bulls, original music by Avi Amon
Cast: Quincy Tyler Bernstine as Maggie (through August 29; then Marin Ireland), Cricket Brown as Ashley, Michael Chernus as the narrator, Will Dagger as Wally, Emily Davis as Angela, Danny McCarthy as Jeff, Constance Shulman as Joanie, Amelia Workman as Julie
