Playwright: Chris Riter
At: GreyZelda Theatre Group at Stage Left Theatre, 3408 N. Sheffield Ave.
Phone: ( 773 ) 267-6293; $10-15
Runs through: July 3
The rules of playwrighting mandate that when the story sets out to explore a question with many answers, the author must indicate which is the 'right' one by the end of the play, or the audience will be disappointed. Chris Riter chooses an answer for us, but The Thimbleberry Gallows might have been more satisfying if he hadn't.
This much we know from historical documents: That between 1844 and 1846, on the shores of Lake Superior in what is now Upper Michigan, troops were garrisoned at a military outpost, their mission being to watch over our government's copper mining interests. That stationed at this camp was a Lieutenant Daniel Ruggles, whose wife, Mrs. Detta Hooe Ruggles, was hostess to a visit from her spinster sister, Miss Fanny Hooe. And that Fanny disappeared in the course of her sojourn.
So what happened to the unmarried lady from Virginia? What brought her to the sylvan wilderness of the Great Lakes? Was she fleeing some family scandal? Did her relatives hope she would find a husband in this isolated community where womenfolk were scarce? Did that same gender imbalance put a strain on the Ruggles' marital relationship? What about Captain Corbett Wallace, a yankee not overly fond of southerners, but whose inspection report will determine the future of Daniel's career? And the drunken Private Dobbs, who guards the stockade—what secrets does HE know? For that matter, what secrets have they ALL left behind, and how do those affect their actions now?
This is a lot of story for only five characters to impart with any coherence, especially since the various scenes—including dream sequences—appear to be arranged in non-chronological order. But though the pace tended to drag during the third quarter of its opening performance, Heath Hays' delicately wooded set, Kristen Strezo and Robert Filippo's haunting original score, and director Rebecca Zellar's incorporation of period ballroom dances ultimately invoke an atmosphere of pastoral myth, where ancient spirits, Freudian impulses and social prejudices become indistinguishable. In such a universe, ANYTHING is possible, and so why shouldn't we decide for ourselves the fate of the elusive Fanny Hooe? Or simply enjoy the mystery of her romantic legend?