A skilled storyteller could read the phone book, it used to be said, and people would sit up and listen. Playwright and actor Heidi Armbruster has much more interesting tales to tell in her one-woman show, Scarecrow, which has its Wisconsin debut at Milwaukee’s Next Act Theater. And audiences are sitting in rapt attention for the play’s 100 minutes (no intermission).
Under the relatively new direction of Artistic Director Cody Estle, Next Act maintains its mission: to produce “thought-provoking theater.” Scarecrow is a detective yarn, a coming-of-age story, a memoir – and much more. It is based on the sense of loss and renewal that comes when our young heroine leaves New York City and returns to her Wisconsin roots. Settled on the family farm, she cares for her ailing father in his final days.
If you’ve never seen a playwright perform her own autobiographical work, this would be a good place to start. At first, Armbruster recounts episodes from the past. As she returns to her father’s farm, she recalls all the hurts that drove her away in the first place. For instance, when introducing his children to a nurse, her father proudly recounts the backgrounds of his other two children. When it comes to Armbruster, however, he merely mentions that she is “unmarried and unemployed.” Ouch!
She tries to impress on him the importance of having two of her plays produced professionally. This does not work. Her father, a former professor, knows only about skills that can be acquired by working the soil or educating oneself at a university. Her father taught at UW-Madison before he retired and bought a farm.
To her credit, Armbruster tried her best to live up to her father’s wishes. She once studied agriculture at the university. The experience didn’t captivate her.
For Next Act subscribers, especially older ones, this play offers all the comforts of eating a plate of meatloaf and potatoes. Meatloaf is a dish that Armbruster struggles to prepare for a kind farmhand who periodically leaves an odd mix of groceries on her father’s front porch. Her mother never taught her the art of making meatloaf (or perhaps Armbruster wasn’t interested in learning). After mastering the intricacies of meatloaf, Armbruster is proud of her newly acquired domestic skills. Still, she wonders how she is going to manage the farm once her father dies and she finds herself living alone.
Under the subtle but sure-handed direction of Laura Gordon, Armbruster describes her feelings about her dad, her growing appreciation of rural life, and how this new chapter might play out in the story of her own life.
And yet, there are unexpected diversions. She recounts why her father sold his dairy cows and now looks after a very small herd of beef cattle owned by a neighboring farmer. A local farmhand now feeds and cares for the large beasts. Once, the herd escapes the confines of their fenced meadow. Armbruster has no idea what to do. She tries to cope with the situation until help arrives. It is an amusing anecdote that audiences will remember long after they leave the theater.
It should be noted that Armbruster’s movements and voice are perfectly pitched to the size of the intimate theater.
Some parts of Scarecrow are sad to hear, but Armbruster infuses her words with such humor and grace that she easily keeps the audience focused on her adventures. One finds a great deal of sympathy for this young woman as she navigates uncharted territory, both emotionally and geographically.
Armbruster is positively hilarious when she talks about the local reaction to her father’s death. She talks of former grade school classmates who now pelter her with casseroles and questions about how she is dealing with her “grief.” Armbruster much prefers to be left alone as she sorts out her feelings for her father, “the most important person in my life,” she says.
As the play continues, Armbruster comes to the conclusion that, to survive and thrive, she must become her own most important person. She decides that her own feelings must guide her in the days ahead, whether they are at the farm or elsewhere in the world.
Scarecrow is performed on a simple set that consists of a small platform and a wide stretch of land in front of it. The platform contains a few remnants of the father’s living room. There’s a beat-up recliner, a braided rug, a lamp and a milk can, on which Armbruster sometimes sits to tell her story. The platform itself seems to be constructed of weathered red planks from an old barn (scenic and lighting design by Jason Fassl). The sounds of the farm amplify Armbruster’s tales, whether it’s the chirp of crickets or cows mooing in the distance; sometimes, one hears the strum of an acoustic guitar (composition and sound design by Joe Cerqua).
Oh, and there are repeated references to Hallmark holiday movies, and some weird variations which pop up in Armbruster’s fertile imagination. To find out the details, you’ll have to check out a performance of Scarecrow.
