Stage Review: Edna Walsh's The New Electric Ballroom

The three witches – or rather, sisters – in Enda Walsh’s play The New Electric Ballroom (the sibling play to The Walworth Farce) have no General MacBeth to tempt with regal hubris.

No, in this tragedy, the old women tempt only themselves with the never-ending retelling of their tales of one fleeting romance so long ago.  No general, this man they loved, but an old-time pop star, the Roller Royal - an analogue for the ultimate rocker, a mix between the Big Bopper, and the King himself, Elvis Presley.

Of course, these women aren’t ostensibly witches, they are sisters, old sisters, and distinctly weird sisters at that (certainly, one must know that in most modern versions of MacBeth, the three witches are referred to as the “weird sisters).  The play itself revolves around the recursive telling that magical night when Clara (Nancy Robinette), the oldest of the three, was invited backstage by the Roller Royal after a concert at the New Electric Ballroom only to see him in the arms of another.  Or was it that of the middle sister, Breda (Sybil Lines) only 17, and in the throws of foreplay with His Majesty in His dressing room on that same evening, only to see him go, forever, after being interrupted by an unexpected guest.

Only youngest sister Ada (Jennifer Mendenhall), who was only six on the night of that ill-fated romance, has no connection to the Roller Royal whatsoever – so this tale could not be hers, could it?  Is this simply a story about three middle-to-old-aged women, virginal and disgusted by their own reproductive organs, obsessed with the Madonna Mary and the Whore Magdalene.  Is it a simply a play about a bunch of old broads  lamenting over their tiny feet and their salvation spurned by their Elvis in Disguise, hiding from the rumors of long-dead old women, and pining for some cake and some tea?

No, this cannot be the case.  Three witches – sorry, sisters – would be quite purposeless (not to mention disinteresting) without someone to spellbind, and that someone is the aptly-named Patsy (Liam Craig, in a dynamite performance, as with the rest of the cast), a poor, lonely fish monger, whose only bit of normalcy is the regularity with which he delivers fish to the sisters, only to receive withering scorn for his trouble.  He comes several times a day, “with the tide,” though he doesn’t know why (of course, the tide is controlled by the moon, right?), with strange stories of woe in which he walks the town, directionless and as if guided by a mysterious force, harangued for his troubles by a talking seagull (yes, you read that correctly).

Thematically, this play is absolutely brilliant – it is wrought with symbolism and delightfully creepy to take in.  The writing is phenomenal, as the dialogue takes on a truly lyrical quality; and at times, I wondered if I was indeed listening to sonnets in iambic pentameter (as if this were Macbeth).  The lighting, music and direction are outstanding as well.  Each time the sisters tell their tale, they start by switching on an old reel-to-reel tape player, which exudes the ghostly echoes of that old-time rock and roll.  A single floor light is used to great effect, each sister is drowned in the shadow of the sister doing the telling, and the youngest, Ada, at first sits in front, listening – the story is for her, the telling eventually consumes her in these shadows most of all.

Despite this, Ada seems to have a considerable amount of power.  She won’t allow her sisters tea, as for some reason she must brew it for them.  There is the cake baked by middle sister Breda (we are initially led to believe it was baked by Clara, just as we are initially led to believe that it was Clara who was romanced by the Roller Royal) that Ada will not allow them to eat – and then destroys.  At one point, Ada confesses to making them tell her this story over and over again, from the time she was a little girl, until their present middle- and old-age.

Then, there is Patsy, poor, poor Patsy – what of him?  He arrives with the moon – er – tide, delivering fish, spilling his heart out only to be regarded with contempt and unceremoniously shown the door.  His fish are promptly discarded by sisters, for they are fishers of men – or rather, of one Man, long gone – not fish!  This seemingly has gone on indefinitely, and he frequently complains bitterly of his loneliness, and pleads with them to treat him kindly for once, to no avail, until, in a fit of Pique, Breda demands he stay.  They strip him, and bathe him, baptizing him so his skin is new again, free of the foul odor of fish.  They dress him like he was the Roller Royal himself, and lo and behold he does sing!

Nevertheless, he is a patsy, indeed.  For eventually, the three sisters do resolve to eat some cake, and Ada does finally brew them some tea – or, is it witches brew?  The New Electric Ballroom has been extended until May 8^th.  See it if you can.  You will not be sorry.

The New Electric Ballroom

by Enda Walsh. Directed by Matt Torney. Lighting, Michael Giannitti; costumes, Helen Q. Huang; sound, Martin Desjardins; fight director, Robb Hunter; dialect coach, Nancy Krebs. About 90 minutes. Extended Through May 8 at Studio Theatre, 1501 14th St. NW. Visit www.studiotheatre.org or call 202-332-3300.