Review: Sunny Days by Reina Hardy at The Vortex
by Michael Meigs
Sunny Days is virtually all concept -- an awkward multicourse serving of bitter and sweet that's made palatable by Rudy Ramirez's direction, inventive puppetry, and the dedicated cast. I can imagine playwright Reina Hardy at her desk, musing on the sweetness of Sesame Street and brooding on the adult evils that victimize children in this world; she then imagines evoking these opposites by inventing the story of an earnest and eventually successful puppeteer. She emphasizes the appalling predominance of evil in human society by offering snapshots of dire situations: the Kosovo/Albania war and genocides in 2014, the brutal administrative kidnapping by U.S. authorities of children of aspiring immigrants caught crossing the southern border, and a dystopian world of the year 2500 when human exploitation and greed have left the planet a barely populated trash heap.
You can't do all that with Sesame Street, of course, because the Sesame Workshop and the Jim Henson Company would be on you like a duck on a June bug. Instead, Hardy imagines a clone, ABC City, equally benevolently intentioned and, like her model, syndicated and co-produced across the world (Wikipedia factoids: "By 2006, independently produced versions of Sesame Street were broadcast in 20 countries and by by its 40th anniversary in 2009, it was broadcast in more than 140 countries").
Her concept and settings work, more or less, for two-thirds of the production. The first chapter shows the producers' blindly hopeful effort to set up a co-production for Albania and Kosovo, courting two intellectuals, a Serb and an Albanian. Stephanie Delk as the producer has the mission from the mother ship; very junior puppeteer Ricky (Michael Galván) is brought in to show the company's bona fides (it does come out that he animates only one arm of the most popular puppet figure and has nothing to do with the iconic creation's voice or character). Conflict is inevitable and unescapable; American naïvité is shredded in the tense, unsuccessful meetings that seek to bridge the gap. Jelena Stojilkovic Rhynes and Trey Deason embody their distrust of one another and the whole process, though initially lured by hopes of enlisting the show's messages and puppetry to avoid poisoning the minds of the children. Hardy's writing is sharp, clear, convincing, and dramatic; few in the United States can comprehend the poison of ethnic hatreds anchored deeply in angry communities throughout the Middle East and the Balkans (and, certainly, elsewhere in the world; my three-year assignment on the divided island of Cyprus convinced me of that).
The second chapter is developed in a migrant detention center where Gabriela, a Spanish-speaking eight-year-old, has fallen virtually catatonic from the trauma of being separated from her parents. The ABC do-gooders are brought in to lighten things up and produce uplifting programs for the victims of the family separation policies. Ricky's career has found lift-off; he now has a wife, a house, three daughters, and a central role as the animator of the puppet Captain Pickle. His artist's soul is shaken by the inhumanity of the situation; when he asks plaintively whether ABC can't simply take Gabriela away, the tart answer from the producer reduces the situation to its essentials: "They have guns. We don't."
It's discomfiting to see that though the author's focus is on children, none are visible in this story. The 2014 episode shows adults arguing and ends with an offstage catastrophe that kills children; the 2019 dramatization presents Gabriela as an invisible, huddled presence in a rectangle of light at center stage. Ricky's despairing dialogue with her is in fact a trialogue: he speaks as himself, he voices Captain Pickle (whose Spanish is much more fluent than Ricky's), and he responds to unheard comments from the girl, who is enchanted by Captain Pickle. Magic, Ricky explains, is what animates Captain Pickle and charms children. He reluctantly leaves the puppet to Gabriela, warning her that the magic will have to come from her.
Complicating the story and confusing audience perceptions throughout are the multiple approaches to puppetry. Actors hold puppets and speak for them; in some passages, black-shrouded figures hold up puppets and voice them; a counter-ABC City puppet that constructs puppets of junk has an existential dilemma of whether to embrace pure art or sell out; an earnest but somewhat demented lawyer working on behalf of refugee children is depicted as a talking book, animated at times by two puppeteers; shadow puppetry is used in the final section; a madcap "Real News" broadcast recurs, featuring a Muppety puppet and a pink-sock hand puppet; weather news is delivered by a plastic sack whipping back and forth before a black backdrop; and there's that glorious, massive creation "The Garbage" that symbolizes the end of the world as humans know it.
And that brings us to the end, to the year 2500 and a dome covering Philadelphia. Another Gabriela (Madison Paloma) is desperate to escape to dreamland ABC City, which she understands is in Brooklyn (where's that?). In the perpetual junkyard of her world she has somehow encountered a DVD of the program. A long wrangle with ghosts, puppets, and The Garbage ensues -- it's very long and tiresome, bereft of the immediacy of previous episodes. It depends upon a quest, a sea voyage, a near drowning, a rescue, and inexplicable God-like interventions of The Garbage. The outcome is a new encounter with the magic abandoned by the long-deceased Ricky.
Michael Galván holds this sprawling creation together. His acting is subtle, alert, and emotive; you savor his distractions as well as his pauses, emotions, and indignations. He gives us the innocent, the enthusiast who stands for the children we never see. Others in the cast slip deftly into and out of characters and puppeteer garb. Stephanie Delk inhabits wildly divergent roles -- those of the aspiring producer, the junk puppet, and the roaring voice of The Garbage.
Happy Days is a downer, by design, despite the charm of the puppetry. From the audience there's rapt attention, appalled silence, excited laughter. The script and Rudy Ramirez's decisive direction are Brechtian, challenging those watching to care deeply that the magic, however loosely defined, is as endangered as we all are.
EXTRA
Click to view the Vortex program for Happy Days by Reina Hardy
Sunny Days
by Reina Hardy
The Vortex
August 22 - September 14, 2024
August 22-September 14, 2024
Thursdays-Saturdays at 8 pm
Sundays 6 pm
Industry Night Wednesday, September 11 8 pm
ASL-interpreted Saturday, August 24 at 8 pm (Free for Deaf and hard-of-hearing audiences)
Livestream Thursday, September 12 at 8 pm
The VORTEX, 2307 Manor Rd., Austin, TX 78722
TICKETS: $39-$15
$39 Benefactor
$29 Supporter
$15 Discount/Child/Artist/Student/Senior
www.vortexrep.org or 512-478-5282
Reserved Seating. Advanced Reservations Recommended.
Blue Star Theatre: Discount tickets for Military, Veterans, and their families.
Thursday only: 2-for-1 admission with donation of 2 cans for SAFE Austin
Radical Rush Free Tickets: Limited free tickets for each performance in the spirit of sustainability, accessibility, and the gift economy. Radical Rush tickets released one hour before the show--in-person only.
[poster image by Melissa McKnight]
