By LORNA CHEROT LITTLEWAY
CARY CRIM’S PLAY “The Islanders” is a poignant two-hander that poses the question: Can two broken people help each other heal? “The Islanders” receives its world premier at Shakespeare and Company, in Lenox, MA, in the intimate Tina Packer Playhouse and runs through August 25.
The play is set on Beaver Island, Michigan, where the year-round population shrinks to 600 after the tourists depart at summer’s end. It is a 13-mile community, where no one locks their doors, has one of any kind of business and $2 beers on Tuesday.
The play opens with Anna, a woman in her 40s, lying on a lawn with fallen leaves in front of her home, reveling in the coolness of the air, scents of the earth and the glorious starlight display.
Her reverie is disrupted by Dutch, a resident of Chicago, where the skyline blots out the Milky Way. Dutch seems to be a man at a loss of what to do with himself and he is clearly suffering from a breathing or cardiac condition.
Act I clearly sets out the differences between them. Dutch is guarded while Anna self describes as an “extroverted introvert.” She is garrulous. He is taciturn.
They immediately bond over the need to find “Dog,” a pet abandoned by previous renters of Anna’s adjacent guesthouse. Anna insists that Dutch find Dog despite the onset of inclement weather and Dutch being without transportation because his car ran out of gas. Anna offers Dutch her bicycle, a vintage 3-speed Huffy with a straw basket decorated in flower motifs on the handlebars. After a few precarious starts Dutch peddles off in search of Dog.
Throughout Act I the pair discover they do like each other. Dutch admits that being alone is “comfortable” while Anna counters that loneliness is equivalent to “smoking 15 cigarettes a day.” Nevertheless they agree to be friends who hangout together but with the caveat, “We can’t have sex,” says Anna.
Act II is revelatory. Dutch shares that his given name is Dale, named after a grandfather on his mother’s side; but that his father did not think the name “manly,” hence Dutch. His reason for leaving Chicago was feeling “disposable.” Dutch’s life was defined by his job with a tech corporation, which considered him “over the hill” when he reached age 50. Dutch was terminated after being released from a hospital following a traumatic street mugging. Dutch is perplexed why he did not fight back.
Anna confesses, “My daughter doesn’t like me.” She has cancelled Thanksgiving dinner plans to spend time with her father instead. Not to be defeated by the sudden change of plans Dutch and Anna celebrate Thanksgiving together and watch a found wedding home movie on a vintage projector that Anna found on one of many forays to the town’s transfer station. They, also, break the cardinal rule not to have sex.
The next morning finds Anna in a frenetic state of jubilation that turns to paranoia when Dutch begs off another round of lovemaking. Anna repeatedly shrieks, “Don’t touch me!” And flails at Dutch with a golf club.
The last scene occurs five months later. Dutch has returned to Beaver Island after an extended road trip. “I looked up a lot to see the stars.” He, also, has adopted a dog, Beau, who is being treated for worms and mange. They both share a laugh about Beau being “a mess.”
Dutch asks Anna how she feels now. “I wish I died in my sleep.” Anna explains that she is back on her meds and that Dutch “doesn’t need to take care of me.” He counters, “I like being in your orbit.” Anna warns, “My orbit is wobbly.”
Two character plays demand much of actors. Michelle Mountain as Anna and “ranney” (“Fences’” Troy Maxson from last season) as Dutch, rise to the occasion superbly hitting a range of emotions honestly. Mountain’s meltdown in Act II is scary, their reconciliation heartfelt and hopeful.
Reggie Life, who has directed other Crim plays, leads a masterful production. The set design by Christina Todesco is an eclectic visual masterpiece of Anna’s state of mind. Save the grass foreground the exterior of Anna’s “she-shed” home is framed, center stage, by a canoe hull; its sides crammed with wood pallets and suspended bicycle wheels; and flanked by all manner of transfer station goodies.
The shed cleverly opens to a daybed and stacks of books on shelves. The interior is crowned with rows of small colored light bulbs. In comparison the guesthouse is a sensible but staid small structure.
The lighting design by Beth Sullivan is appropriately bright and moody to reflect Anna’s state of mind. The exterior, too, is strung with rows of colored bulbs. The sound design by Brendan Doyle is outstanding with haunting loon calls, a cello and 50s Doo Wop music. The finale, a rendition of Carole King’s “You’ve Got a Friend” is especially effective.
Tickets can be ordered online, Shakespeare.org or by calling the box office 413 637-3353.