What the Sparrow Said

Playwright Danny Mitarotondo begins "What the Sparrow Said" with a smiling young woman reciting a rushed litany of names and their familial interconnections as she arranges the show's set pieces. Initially, we struggle to keep up with her, until it becomes clear that such a thing is impossible and obviously not desired by the author. As if to confirm our suspicions, the young woman ends with a simple but forceful admonition: "Remember the people, not the names."

Mitarotondo's theater is a lyrical one of splintered poetry and inchoate longing that seems most interested in essences. "Sparrow" sprang out of four discrete one-acts that he has attempted to weave together into a single whole. It begins with Blaze, at the hospital deathbed of his mother, Hannah, desperately trying to ignore reality and unsure of how to proceed. Then there is Blaze's estranged younger brother, Dan, who has his own problems, having inherited a Park Avenue apartment he doesn't want from a man he barely knew. Also in the mix is Cynthia, the attractive, somewhat older woman showing Dan the apartment, and young and beautiful Amelia, who it seems is related to Hannah's incoming roommate. Oh, and that smiling young woman from up top turns out to be Hannah's no-nonsense nurse.

The ambitions are admirable, and director Jenna Worsham has elicited some fine performances, particularly Kevin Mannering's delicately fevered Blaze; Matthew Michael Hurley's sad-eyed, puzzled Dan; and Heather Oakley's tightly longing Cynthia. Mitarotondo intrigues us repeatedly with character connections that hold the tantalizing promise of a clarity that never materializes. He has an original way with language ("May she rest in pieces," "People sink into sepia") and creates some splendid images (the show's closer is stunning and affecting). Ultimately, though, "Sparrow" is too emotionally inarticulate and verbally overarticulate. Those elusive essences aren't quite jelling yet.

One more caveat: The busy cooling fans in the Clemente Soto Velez Cultural Center's Teatro Latea make an inordinate amount of white noise, for which the actors did not always compensate, causing me to strain to hear Mitarotondo's dense imagery, not always succeeding. The cast should consider kicking it up a notch at the remaining performances.
 
Presented by the Common Tongue as part of the New York International Fringe Festival at the Clemente Soto Velez Cultural Center's Teatro Latea, 107 Suffolk St., NYC. Aug. 17–26. Remaining performances: Sat., Aug. 20, 2 p.m.; Thu., Aug. 25, 6:45 p.m.; Fri., Aug. 26, 3:30 p.m. (866) 468-7619 or www.fringenyc.org.