As part of the Tennessee Williams Festival, a one-act evening called The Hotel Plays ran briefly at the Hermann-Grima House.
Lord Byron’s Love Letter takes place in a vestibule of a (real) historic house visited by a tourist Matron (Francine Segal, properly pushy) and Husband (Jackson Townsend, playing drunk and showing disinterest). They’re greeted by an in-charge Spinster (the remarkable Cristine McMurdo-Wallis), who has advertised possession of a love letter written in Greece to her then-young grandmother by Lord Byron. For money, Spinster will show the letter and tell of their meeting, subsequent summer love affair and how, after Byron’s death, the girl sequestered herself in his honor.
When Husband hears Mardi Gras music, he rushes out and, though asked for money, Matron follows. What does that mean for Spinster and a Woman (Matthew Story, eerie) behind a grate? Beautifully played, with the sense of a Mardi Gras visitors’ stop-off enhanced by the setting.
The Last of My Solid Gold Watches involves a traveling salesman, Mr. Charlie, robustly played by George Sanchez, as if a soul-brother to Willy Loman. He’s in a Mississippi hotel room that, like him, has seen better days. He invites a younger salesman, Harper (Joel Derby, the epitome of bored), to play cards but underwhelms him with unfunny jokes and stories of the better old days and shoes to sell. Charlie opens his coat and shows off the watches of the title that were given him for being best salesman in many a year. But Harper makes it clear that he is the future, that the old order is passing, and, with it, Charlie. Andrew Calhoun, Jr. accompanies as a Musician.
This version of the story lacks a Negro Porter who underlined the theme of the story and gave it more importance. On the plus side, besides Sanchez’s performance, is the dreary, real bedroom setting.
The Lady of Larkspur Lotion finds Desiree Ledet’s loud-mouthed frustrated landlady Mrs. Wire complaining to the delusional Mrs. Hardwicke-Moore about not paying her rent. She’s actually a lately unsuccessful hooker who’s hooked into the excuse of awaiting money from investment in a Brazilian rubber plantation. Kathryn Talbott manages to show why she’s to be pitied, as she’s befriended by another non-paying renter, The Writer. Robert Mitchell captures the alcoholic well and shows dignity as he tells the trenchant Mrs. Wire she has no right to destroy the fantasizing that allows escape from her horrid, roach-infested rooms.
Mister Paradise brings talented Robert Mitchell back into the abovementioned bleakness as a poet who’s gone into obscurity. He’s visited by The Girl (Francesca McKenzie, sincere) in from college. She discovered a book of his poems and wants to help him return to his work and career. Anthony Paradise tells her what destruction time has brought and how poetry will relate to it. It’s a sketch that says as much as a full play.
Altogether, a full slate of drama! Like many of Williams’s early short plays, these are better than his last ones.
