Photo Source: Chelsea Sutton
In an ensemble populated by actors who, save one, give the sense this work was created as an improv in a TV and film acting workshop, Caan has written for himself the leading role of Jacob, a man mired in such uninteresting and uneventful dilemmas that within the first 10 minutes of the first overly long scene, one wants to shout, “Get over it!” Jacob may have gotten his friend-with-benefits paramour Holly (Robyn Cohen) pregnant, but because anything important that happens is only described and discussed through static expository conversations rather than acted out onstage, it’s difficult to really care.
Although infinitely watchable on film or the small screen, Caan doesn’t translate his talents to the stage, gesturing exaggeratedly with each whiny proclamation or bending forward and rotating from the axis of a stationary waist, as though some giant puppeteer is manipulating his movements. Partly this is surely attributable to the leadership of director Val Lauren, who seems to have passed on Caan’s Geppetto-itis to his other players—his own performance as Jacob’s best bud excepted. Instead of his ensemble’s uniformly unmotivated choreographed gesticulations, he wanders the stage with an ever-present toothpick, a character choice ensuring attention is riveted on him.
Cohen as the possibly pregnant Holly and Bre Blair as her best friend have taken a few swigs of the same Kool-Aid, once again reinforcing that film and television actors are often only able to act in short takes, forgetting—or never having to create—the through line and character arc necessary when telling a story in sequence.
Then there’s Melanie Griffith as Jacob’s mother, Lulu, who speaks so quietly that a lot of her dialogue is missed yet still is compelling to watch, especially while everyone else is doing a little dance around her. She seems to be in another play altogether or gravely embarrassed for getting herself stuck in this one, looking as mortified as Barbara Stanwyck playing the lesbian madam in “Walk on the Wild Side.” Griffith’s one chance to emote rather than comment dryly while crossing and recrossing her long legs happens offstage, everyone returning from the bathroom talking about Lulu sharing a good cry with Holly—though no one, when asked repeatedly, can say why.
Caan has the potential to be an interesting writer, but “No Way Around but Through” isn’t there yet. His characters are written with the same rhythms and vocal patterns as those of the playwright, whose pointlessly repetitious and indulgent Neil Simon–meets–Samuel Beckett dialogue foreshadows his own review: “I don’t have some grand statement that can sum everything up,” Jacob admits. “I know I keep saying this, but that’s because I have nothing to say.”
Presented by Falcon Theatre and the Mineral Theater Company at Falcon Theatre, 4252 Riverside Dr., Burbank. June 1–July 8. Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 4 and 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m. (818) 955-8101 or www.falcontheatre.com.
