Stage Struck Review

Reviewing Theatre For Over 40 Years

At Sierra Madre Playhouse: A Kinder, Gentler “Mockingbird”?

The more you know about “To Kill a Mockingbird,” that great classic book of the 1960s, the more fascinating this classic becomes. Today the tale proves controversial for its childish tone, and for, as Slate writer Stephen Metcalf says, it’s white lawyer protagonist’s “preposterously unblinking courtesy” which may be seen as having “served to counsel gradualism and procedural nicety, even as the Civil Rights movement had started demanding something more.” Still, the book is taught in ¾ of America’s schools, and the film and play adaptations have reached wide followings. Some consider it the most popular American novel. Nostalgia, even politically charged nostalgia, sells.

Not surprising, then, that the venerable Sierra Madre Playhouse should choose to produce one of the better of those adaptations, by Christopher Sergel. Perhaps anticipating the vast popularity of the piece, they’ve also gone all out in production values. Still, the process of putting such a large story on such a small stage does lead to some interesting choices. Director Michael Cooper makes some of them work well, while others prove overly revisionist – a softening even of the soft-focus lens this story has always placed on institutional racism.

Most reading this can virtually recite the storyline. As seen mostly through the eyes of Scout, a roughly 8-year-old tomboy, we watch the vibrations through tiny Maycomb, Alabama as a poor black family man is arrested and tried for the rape of an even poorer white girl. That he is innocent is a given. That, despite the efforts of his idealistically pacific white lawyer, Scout’s father Atticus, he will be convicted is also a given. What becomes central is Atticus’ almost innocent refusal to acknowledge the ill will of others – a belief that almost costs his children’s lives.

Director Cooper has chosen to emphasize the calm quality of Atticus to the point where the entire enterprise operates at a slow, underplayed hum. This proves effective when the nasty and vindictive bully Bob Ewell (an enthusiastically villainous David Preston) sparks with a vicious energy against the placid whole. Yet, at other times the calmness, even of young children supposedly scared of boogey men, is like looking at the story through cheesecloth.

Brighid Fleming, as Scout, and Michael Andrew Stock as her older brother Jem, play their parts as calm little adults, which works, but only sometimes. Indeed, though Christian Lebano’s gentle Atticus and Tara Thomas’ lovingly commanding housekeeper, Calpurnia, often order them to do things like go inside, something which you would think would at least evoke a reaction (perhaps an occasional start toward compliance, even), such orders aren’t acknowledged in any way. In a child this would be overt and obstinate “attitude” – something which one does not usually associate with Scout or Jem.

This show sports a huge cast – perhaps the largest in a non-musical I’ve ever seen at SMP. Diane Kelber gives the narrator, their neighbor Maudie, warmth and open-mindedness. Alex Egan makes the sheriff wisely long-suffering. Robert Manning, Jr. gives the accused man, Tom, a meek nobility, while, as his accuser, Lindsay Wagner’s frightened, dumpy young woman underscores the villainy of the entire proceeding. As the odd boy Dill, who befriends Scout and Jem (a character based on Harper Lee’s real life-long association with Truman Capote), Patrick Fitzsimmons is certainly odd. The rest of the cast also does admirably at creating the town in small, though one is somewhat startled at the sympathetic turn Miguel Perez gives the usually partisan judge.

The set, by top-notch designer Gary Wissmann, crams a huge amount onto the tiny SMP stage, usually to fine effect, though the isolated nature of Boo Radley’s house is difficult to define. Carlos Brown has captured the look of 1935 southern clothing, and the social stratification of the time. It all looks very period.

In sum, please don’t get me wrong. I am very fond of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” its criticisms notwithstanding. Yet, when – in that most seminal moment – the African-American reverend (well played by Marvin Gay) asks Scout and Jem to stand along with the rest of the “colored” gallery as their father walks by, and all the whites in the court stand too, the kinder, gentler, diluted version of racist 1930s Alabama is almost too much to bear. I’m sorry. It just wasn’t like that.

What: “To Kill a Mockingbird” When: Through November 12, 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays Where: Sierra Madre Playhouse, 87 W. Sierra Madre Blvd in Sierra Madre How Much: $25 general, $22 students/seniors, $15 children 12 and under Info: 626-355-4318 or

4 responses to “At Sierra Madre Playhouse: A Kinder, Gentler “Mockingbird”?

  1. Anonymous October 16, 2011 at 11:41 AM

    ‘Childish tone’ is not much of a ‘criticism’ for a book written mostly from the perspective of a child. Perhaps what was meant is that the writing style is childish – which it isn’t. Anyone who has children would confirm it, and anyone who knows what petulance is. This, rather unecessarily, dashes the second mentioned criticism of the book, Atticus’ ‘preposterously unblinking courtesy.’ Perhaps the real objection is to the possibility of nobel behavior? As for the ‘soft lens’ on institutional racism, any reader will testify otherwise. The apparent critique is that Harper Lee, by writing at all about racism, was responsible to include a full lexicon of it’s ugliness. These utterly failed critiques provide a clear testament to the reviewers allegiance to fashionability and a willingness to depreciate literature and cultural inheritance – without, of course, actually saying so (‘Don’t get me wrong, I am very fond …”) To criticize is, to invoke Ezra Pound, fundamentally to choose. Funnily enough, the final paragraph here finds the reviewer still ‘very fond’ of To Kill a Mockingbird which is simultaneously ‘almost too much to bear.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ she continues, ‘it just wasn’t like that.’ The play? Or the book? Or 1930’s Alabama? All three? The express obfuscation of an object is perfectly in cohesion with the aims of sensationalism. And those aims are nothing new. To quote Wendell Berry: “One worries that the cultists of the new and original think they are doing what Ezra Pound told them to do. In fact, Pound did say that writers should ‘make it new,’ but that was probably as traditional an instruction as he ever gave. It is a statement perhaps too easy to understand as a flippant rejection of the old, but that is not what he meant. Pound used, to begin with, the verb ‘make,’ and he, like virtually every poet until recently, knew that our word ‘poet’ came from a Greek word meaning ‘maker.’ To make, one must know how to make. And how does one learn? By reading. To Pound, how to write was the same question as how to read.” (Berry, Wendell. Life is a Miracle. 2000)

    • Frances Baum Nicholson October 16, 2011 at 2:59 PM

      What “wasn’t like that”? Neither the play nor the book, but this particular production which had white small town folk being as admiring of Atticus as the African-Americans, and a post-racist judge. This was not in the book, nor even in the film of the book, but it IS in this production, and though I am fond of the book in spite of the intense criticism it has received from my many scholarly and literate African-American friends, and from others who do not share your views… irrationally fond, I suppose, as it caught my imagination when small and blissfully unaware of the ugliness it was portraying… the most dramatic moment in the piece comes when the failed defender Atticus becomes worthy of admiration of a black crowd just for trying against all the odds of a white supremacist society. This was diluted by the way this particular production staged it. As was true when a production of “Show Boat” I once saw had black and white chorus members singing the background to “Old Man River” with their arms around each other, this dilutes the power of illustrated racism that was supposed to be present.

      Sadly, this production was “making it new” by revisiting a classic book of racism, as analyzed by a child (a neat plot device to get around having to be truly appalled, I still contend), and turning it into the warmhearted and placid multiracial town unbelievably swayed by a drunken lout and his daughter.

      In any case, I thank you for your thoughtful reading of my review. I appreciate the Pound reference.

  2. Anonymous October 16, 2011 at 7:05 PM

    Thank you for the clarification.


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