A Weepy Portrait of Fatherhood

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The New York Sun

There is certainly a place in this world for endearing, clichéd, family-oriented dramas that pump up the sweet while turning on the sentimental strings. And that place is television. So while there are certainly worse ways to spend an evening than seeing William Mastrosimone’s play “A Stone Carver,” a night in its company at the Soho Playhouse won’t strike audiences as appreciably different from hanging out at home, weeping softly while watching the Hallmark Channel.

“A Stone Carver” offers a simple three-handed one-act play, observing the Aristotelian unities of time, setting, and, to stretch a point, action. In fact, the ostensible subject — a man’s battle over the destruction of his house in the name of “eminent domain” — fades briskly into the wine-colored light. Rather, we’re here to watch a father and son reunite, even if they have to (literally) fight it out before they hug it out.

Raff (Jim Iorio) has returned home for the first time in a decade to see (and, we learn later, to evict) his father. Toting his blond fiancée, Janice (Elizabeth Rossa), he hopes to reconcile and expel in one swift action. Raff’s bulldozers are already poised to raze Agostino’s stone house to the ground and make way for a highway on-ramp to plow right through the lovely, sepia toned kitchen where Agostino taps adoringly at a stone angel, listens to Caruso records, and stews blackbirds for dinner. In a charming, then extended, then overworked, and finally hammered-to-pieces twist on a metaphor—nothing so well-built can last.

Dan Lauria, an actor best recognized as the surly dad from “The Wonder Years,” plays Agostino, but his bull’s head and shoulders seem built for shaking at the misdeeds of the young, and he probably couldn’t portray a childless man if his life depended on it. With a Sicilian accent as thick as a deep-dish pizza, Mr. Lauria flings around “bafangools” with reckless abandon. His portrayal is so broad it could be a caricature — and yet, those who know better (like Mr. Mastrosimone himself), lent this corny portrait their imprimatur.

Jim Iorio somehow plays against Mr. Lauria’s excesses with surprising elegance, cutting through the other actor’s cheese like a paring knife. Sporting his nifty 1970s three-piece suit with just the right degree of confidence (Gail Cooper-Hecht’s costume design has a light, deft touch), he has physical precision and a sense of the stage that ought to take him far. His ease seems particularly laudable given Mr. Lauria’s overwhelming presence on one side and the disappointing vacuum (Ms. Rossa) on the other. Ms. Rossa’s performance is bland and unappetizing — when Agostino nicknames her “dry pasta,” he only just beat me to it.

Mr. Mastrosimone, who has written widely for television (including the miniseries “Into the West”), seems to know exactly what he’s doing, which includes knowing which screws to twist and how to unload his accelerating amounts of schmaltz. Because the play has been in development since he was in college, he has also had several tries to get it right.Judging by the grown men in the audience surreptitiously wiping away their tears, our author’s tale of tough guys finally melting each other’s stern facades is plenty cathartic. Just be warned: if you don’t have your own emotionally inaccessible father, you might feel bewildered by all the weeping.

Director Robert Kalfin and his set designer Nathan Heverin create a believable slice of life onstage, which is just what the material demands. Mr. Heverin has had plenty of practice making realistic, nostalgic sets for the Keen Company, and he displays his impressive artistry here.Mr. Kalfin, whose own work with the Keen Company resulted in last season’s far more interesting “Outward Bound,” just tries to keep the ship afloat on all the seas of cheese.

In its way, “A Stone Carver” is brilliant counter-programming to the upcoming Fringe Festival. Once August starts, most things that don’t have either a bodily function or “The Musical” in their title flee for the Berkshires. So if you’re desperate for something sincere, insistently unhip and unabashedly sentimental—this may be the only place to find it. That is, if you’re not watching television.

Through September 3 (15 Vandam St., between 6th and Varick streets, 212-691-1555).


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