'Danny' delivers a devestating emotional impact

By Nicole Diamond

Courtesy Maia Brewton

Clayton Binkley's, SM '99, set design is truly ambitious. Despite its solid construction, the constantly rotating platform, propelled by two men turning cranks at either end of the playing space, occasionally creaks and whines as it moves. While the effect is somewhat distracting at first, the action on stage almost immediately grabs the audience's full attention, and the turning of the platform works to the advantage of both actors and plot. J.J. Lind's, SM '98, direction is especially good at manipulating this unique space, and he takes "theater in the round" a step further without sacrificing clarity or content.

Both Roberta and Danny are self-destructive individuals, embittered by life and unable to trust others. As Danny explains, "I am alone wherever I am," to which Roberta replies, "Yeah, me too." But these two lost souls, who find their way into the same bar, are run-down and longing for solace. Danny, who has a habit of getting involved in knock-down fistfights (his hands are cut up from an altercation the night before), tells Roberta, "I am too fucking tired to fight anyone." Roberta, who has a 13-year-old son from a first marriage, is also in pain. "It ain't right to feel as much as I feel," she says, explaining how she cannot escape the thoughts inside her own head.

And so, these two solitary figures reach out to one another. In a sometimes timid, sometimes brazen, often pathetic dance of words and gestures, Roberta and Danny attempt to break down one another's walls, revealing their own secrets at the same time. But is this connection temporary, one that easily fades under the harsh light of day? Or have Roberta and Danny found a reason to face the morning?

Portraying Roberta as part bitter divorcée, part lost little girl, Brewton is more than capable. With her wide and expressive eyes, she is able to convey volumes in a single scorching glare. Hawkins, too, captures the powerful exterior and internal agony of Danny. His face flashes through numerous emotions in seconds, and we can see the hurt child behind the mask of maturity. Although both Brewton's and Hawkins's characters are portrayed as somewhat younger than the parts would suggest, this is perhaps intentional, and encourages empathy. The two actors work well together physically, and use the difficult playing space with ease.

The lighting design effectively emphasizes the transitions which occur throughout the show. Lighting changes are sharp and abrupt, and as the play switches from sorrowful to angry to sweet to violent, the lights follow with apt precision. Shining through the tattered plastic covering of the playing space, the lights are especially effective when playing over the folds of white cloth strewn on the stage, or splayed across Hawkins's beautifully-defined upper body (manipulated and used by Lind's direction almost as a set piece throughout the show).

Although the play, rife with tortured souls and Dante-esque suffering, could easily become a melodrama, trite in its explosive pain, Danny and the Deep Blue Sea escapes unscathed by romance novel tendencies. The story rings true, the characters are believable, and we can easily feel their pain. In the more tender moments, we find ourselves rooting for the success of this couple, and we want to believe in their fantasies of eventual marital bliss. But regardless of their hopes and ours, the morning must come.

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