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Old West fable is as good as dead
(by Herb Hammer - February 17, 2010)
THEATER, BY HERB HAMMER
Old West fable is as good as dead
When "The Rider on the Pale Horse" first appeared in a 1950 issue of the Saturday Evening Post, the clever little folk tale was thought to be soon forgotten. The short story by Helen Eustis did catch enough attention to be turned into a television play a few years later. The story eventually found its way into a children's book of short stories.
Eventually, the title changed to "Mr. Death and the Redheaded Woman." This is where Shelley Costa and Bill Rowe stepped in. Miss Costa turned the 60-year-old fable into a stage play with songs by Mr. Rowe. The premiere of this little show is now being staged at the River Street Playhouse, the intimate theater which is part of Chagrin Valley Little Theatre.
An adaptation was a terrific idea. The finished product is something less.
We've come to expect more from the tiny theater. In fact, last year's "Almost Maine" was the play of the year staged at River Street. This time, things are much different.
From page to stage, something has gone wrong in this Pamela Ruiz-directed one-hour, one-act.
The story goes something like this: Billy-be-damn Bangtry is gunned down in front of a saloon somewhere in the Old West. His girlfriend chases after Mr. Death on her father's pinto pony.
"But Maude Applegate, she rode high and she rode low," etc., is part of a lyrical portion of the original story.
Maude, the redheaded woman, catches up to Mr. Death and begs him to bring Billy back to life. They work out a deal which has to do with Mr. Death and Maude riding horseback twice around the world.
Mr. Death lives with his granny, who pampers him and treats the fearsome creature as though he were a little boy. But off they go, and in no time at all, after riding around the world twice, they're back.
All of this happens on a bare stage with the guitar-playing composer Bill Rowe narrating and singing the dozen original country western songs.
Clumsy directing and actors who appear in great despair damage much of the show. A better director might not have helped much. The script is inherently bad. The only person on stage who appears at ease is Bill Rowe. His songs are quite good. Eventually, the rest of the four-member cast chimes in.
Shelley Costa has been able to pull off some humor, especially when "she rode high and she rode low" is repeated. The rest of the humor is unintentional.
Gail Friedberg's choreography would have been better left out. Her dance-class creations make her clueless dancers appear embarrassed.
All this leads to a dated little story, played by actors who often don't quite know what to do with their hands, staged by a director who has lost the knack of directing.
Pictures of the Old West are projected on an upstage screen. This is a nice touch. The bare stage, however, is deadly.
The best thing about "Mr. Death and the Redheaded Woman" is the brief playing time. Playwrights always get points for that.
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