Show sews rich tapestry of lives of quilt makers
By SHERLI LEONARD
Special to The Press-Enterprise
On the surface, "Quilters," now playing at Performance Riverside, lauds the art of making quilts and the role that quilt-making played in the survival of pioneer women of the plains.
Looking deeper, "Quilters" uses the quiltmaking as a metaphor for life.
With every piece from each quilter, another piece of life falls into place, influenced and directed by its characters.
A complex, intelligent work, "Quilters" is not for the theater-goer who likes to be spoon-fed. It definitely appeals to those who enjoy using their imagination.
Throughout the play, the stage remains stark with an enormous quilt hanging as a backdrop. Behind it, imaginative lighting simulates a sunrise, then a tornado and then a fire.
With only a substantial windmill standing solitary at the side and a set of small stools, the stage becomes a schoolhouse, a storm cellar, a prairie field, a cabin. Not everything worked, however; the cabin of ropes seemed more gimmicky than creative.
But it's the ensemble of seven women that makes this production magical. This group of actors could have driven director Teri Ralston's spell-binding production without any set at all.
All of the actors smoothly handled the rapid transitions from narrator addressing the audience to one of many characters -- be it a tired old woman, a frightened child or a cowboy (Jennifer Pryor's surreal portrayal of a spoonin' cowboy was absolutely charming).
Except for Laurel Hatfield, who tended to be too cute as Jody, the actors remained genuine and authentic, neatly avoiding the potential for deadly over-acting. They mimed the piecin' and quiltin' with such finesse, you could swear they had needle and thread between their determined fingers.
Their sublime singing gives reason enough to see the play more than once. With clear and distinctly different voices, the women harmonized in a glistening blend.
At one point, Pryor started an unaccompanied solo, "Land Where We'll Never Grow Old," that evolved into tight six-part harmony with the other actors, and I wished they would never stop.
With a rich, warm, commanding voice, Brenda Cox as the earthy matriarch Sarah grounded the ensemble singing like the pioneer mother grounded her family.
You won't leave humming a particular song -- the music doesn't spin memorable tunes.
Rather, it masterfully creates an image of the travails and joys of the quilters, an image that sticks with you, like "The Needle's Eye" with all seven actors stitchin' together while they wrestle over the heart of one young man, and "Rocky Road" that tells of the covered wagon journey while the women simulate a prairie schooner undulating over the plains.
The tight, four-piece orchestra inconspicuously weaves in and out of the singing, integrally infused into the dialogue.
Rich in text, the production still demands (and receives) intense physicality from the actors, and amazingly balances the poignant with the pointed, the joyful with the troubling, like the making of a quilt, like the making of a life.
