Sawdust

            Sawdust, written by Harold Mott and directed by Kenneth Firestone, has been playing, on and off, at “The Alley” downtown. The set of the play is simple. There is an alley running parallel to the apron of the stage, then further back, a lawn, with a backdrop representing a brick two story apartment block upstage. The play begins with a bulky fanfare. A flatbed truck with a swing jack arrives, and six players (the apprentice crew) unload two tons of drywall, two by fours, and trim wood onto the back lawn of the complex. Dialogue is limited to statements such as “Here. I’m thinking over here.” The players then leave the stage empty for a moment.

            It is seen from the start that kudos should be given to the playwright and set designer. They don’t skimp on details. For example, the drywall, with the company name and “Guarn-teed” promise printed on the side of each sheet, is covered with tarpaulin by the working ensemble. The tarp itself is of the fictional “TieBack” brand, a brand denoting durability.

            The opening scene is quickly followed by the march of laborers from both wings. A dumpster is rolled onstage, with the crew walking along either side, chanting “C’mon back…”. Each player then leaves the dumpster and files into the building- emerging with huge wads of old drywall. As they toss rubble into the dumpster and go back into the building with fresh materials, a sub plot is added, that of the electricians. Three characters enter from the wings and walk to the apron of the stage, the “Alley”, and confer briefly about their brief. This small ensemble stands out with their exuberance and choice of suspenders. At times, the voices are muted, however. Talking about electricity and whatnot. They then go into the apartment house, squeezing by apprentices at the entrance who are carrying loads of tattered plaster, and the electrical work begins. The sound of tapping and some slicing of conduit is heard through the windows.

            It is only a prelude. With the stage empty, a large red truck rolls in, and a circular table saw is lowered out of it, with everyone in the crew rushing out of the building and pointing this way and that. Two tall men place the table saw exactly where no one is pointing.

            The laborers shake their heads (indeed, each carries a blueprint in their lunchbox) and go back into the building. A radio is heard playing at low volume from somewhere inside. This soundtrack of the play is limited, and I think intentionally so. Namely, it’s anything overplayed since 1975. Apprentices emerge from the building to cut wood on the circular saw, and trade barbs as they take turns.

            As the play evolves, one laborer in particular is featured more, not in time spent onstage or lines uttered, but in her effort to cut the trim more precise and clean. Further into the play, more characters yield their trim to her to get the right angles for the corners, and the more her lines are peppered with curses.

            Throughout the production, numbers are relayed and names of saw blades, drill bits and grinder discs are bandied about, always with profanity attached. To say that Sawdust is profane is like calling the Grand Canyon a gorge. Any object, when clothing is snagged upon it, or if a worker bumps into it or steps on it, any tool that doesn’t work just so is ascribed depraved proclivities by the workers. Imagine the emergency room nurses trying to assign accident codes to that.

            “You stepped on the what nail?”

            Say what you will about this production, it is what it is, and one can either watch it, or not watch it, or watch it bringing your own pearl necklace to clutch at times. Times which, in this production, are frequent. Perhaps all this cursing is meant to be a negative example; reminding us all to watch our fucking mouths.

            An apprentice comes through the door and onto the lawn alone. He is soon followed by the rest of the apprentice crew to provide moral support as he retrieves a hunk of plumbing that he mistakenly threw away.

            He hops inside the dumpster and sings a chorus of “Open Arms” as the others step up onto the base of the dumpster, cling on the rim, sway and hum harmony. Bits of trash fly above the rim and back down toward a corner inside as the laborer sings and sorts through the rubble. This scene featuring this Dumpster Divo, this Tip Tenor, covers the price of admission, ($4, 3.50 for seniors) in my reckoning.

            The singing apprentice crawls out of the dumpster, visible again, holding a hunk of plumbing. The others unfold an old school picnic chair and carry him and his pipe back into the building pharaoh-style, humming all the while.

            Then, from the stage, all is silence. Shouts are heard from within the building, and all evacuate. It is revealed that there is a sewer back-up in the basement. This is Realism.

            Players gather in the yard and alley as a man in shirt sleeves, tie and pocket protector swings out of the wings in a Versatile Utility Vehicle. He sweeps the ground and alley with what looks like a metal detector. The only sounds heard is the beeping of the machine, and the apprentices hissing at each other to keep silent as the city official searches for the clog.

            There is glee and relief as it is declared that the clog is not on the property. It is beneath the alley, and that’s the city’s job. The Inspector shrugs and flashes a philosophical grimace-smile as workers run back into the building, scatting “Ode To Joy”. City workers roll onto the empty stage from the wings. The program now takes on a kind of Safety Yellow Vest and Backhoe motif. The road crew hammers and digs, and hammers and digs, then waits. Then they strike a tableau as only City Workers can. And then they dig and dig again, then wait longer as people approach them, asking them for smokes. Other visitors are savvy enough to play the subtleties, asking the workers exactly where the million-dollar clog is, and then asking for a smoke. A concrete truck rolls up, another slab is poured, and the workers humbly depart. One wonders- could this be referred to as striking a set, or just re-building the original? I find the questions this production raises refreshing.

            And, now a ‘spoiler alert’: As the play ends, the interior remodel of the apartment house, despite all the snags, is successful, without any major injuries. I have to applaud the choice of a Spartan set. It works for the piece. What happens in the heart of the piece, the interior, is mostly implied. It is also implied that the interior was never was a place to go willingly, anyway. The staging in Sawdust is a stylistic choice, and a choice brought on by budgetary concerns. Either way, it works.

            Then comes the end of the show. The crew exits the building, joined by supporting players from the wings, in a “No longer on the time clock/Not in a hurry to go anywhere” saunter, and each takes a bow as they grab a can from the cooler. Then all the players toast the audience with the beverage of their choice.