"Indian Blood" runs through December 23 at Studio Arena.

J. BRYAN HAYES

I do not recall the first time I met J. Bryan Hayes, or the first time I saw him on stage. By the early 1990s, however, he was, without question, a major personality in my world. Certainly, I knew Bryan by the time he appeared as the father in Equus at Theatre of Youth on Franklin Street in 1991. I had seen him in Lenny at Erica Wohl’s legendary Cabaret. And I saw him countless times in countless other plays after that. I remember how, when he finished his own performance in another show, he would show up at the Franklin Street Theater, just in time to see Gail Golden perform “The French Song,” in A…My Name Is Alice, night after night; it didn’t take the company long to realize that this was the beginning of a romance.

How odd it was to attend his memorial service at the Kavinoky Theatre this past Sunday. Bryan moved to Florida several years ago, though he kept in contact with his Buffalo friends, and, we are told, like many a displaced Buffalonian, he felt lonely for the friends he had here. At the memorial, it brought everyone great pleasure to hear a succession of theater stories in which Bryan was the central character. Several times, when a show was mentioned, at first I did not recall that Bryan had been in it—a tribute to a consummate character actor who could disappear into his roles entirely. When reminded, it seems hard to believe that Colonel Pickering in My Fair Lady, the attorney in The Baby Dance and so many other characters were all played by the same person. It was fascinating, as well, to hear tales of an era of dinner theater that I did not experience at all. So many stories at the memorial and reception afterwards were evoked with humor and affection by the good and ultimately loyal friends who had gathered in a state of disbelief, to say goodbye. It was a valuable reminder of the degree to which our lives are interconnected. Goodbye, Bryan—we remember you in hundreds of happy ways.

INDIAN BLOOD

The Studio Arena Theatre production of A.R. Gurney’s Indian Blood is heartwarming and delightful. An appealing cast tells the story of how, on Christmas Eve 1946, young Eddie learns to respect his odious cousin Lambert, and how his father learns that his wife needs to come before his mother.

The odd title is derived from the fact that Eddie believes his rebellious nature comes from an ancestor who was a Seneca Indian. He attributes every confrontation with authority—or with Lambert—to his “Indian Blood.”

Diversity is central to the theme of the play, which presents a family at a crossroads in their personal history and in the regional history of Buffalo. Grandfather sees the writing on the wall, which the others do not. He understands that their insular attitude will make them go the way of all dinosaurs. Between moments of laughter, there are moments of introspective silence among members of the Buffalo audience.

The Studio Arena cast puts its own distinctive mark on the play. Matt Steiner is wonderfully engaging as Eddie. He narrates the story with naïve sincerity without ever seeming cloying or false.

Jane Altman is a standout as the self-absorbed grandmother who has a knack for making selfishness look like generosity. Both imperious and vulnerable, she perfectly affects a woman who manipulates from weakness when strength fails her.

Matt Bradford Sullivan and Hollis McCarthy play the contentious relationship between mother and father with sensitivity and good humor. Sullivan portrays a man who is never more childish than when he endeavors to exert manly authority. McCarthy can zing a cynical one-liner with the best.

Ronald Wendschuh gives a superior rendering of the rascally grandfather whose gene for mischievousness has obviously skipped a generation. His performance provides the play with its soul, as well as its philosophical center. The subtleties he gives to his interactions with the other characters, establishing a distinct relationship to each, are wonderfully vivid.

David Q. Combs is appealing both as the insightful Latin teacher and as good-natured and effeminate Uncle Paul.

Justin Fiordaliso, the Donald Savage scholarship recipient at Buffalo State College, gives a strong performance as Lambert, providing a perfect foil to Steiner’s Eddie and piquant punctuation to the Christmas festivities. Darleen Pickering Hummert is delightfully over-the-top in a variety of roles.

Kathleen Gaffney’s direction is crisp, efficient and well paced. Upon a return viewing, I noted that the production had gained a needed sense of urgency, and that individual characters had become more sharply defined. Gaffney lights on Gurney’s cues for a theatricalized world with great wit and appropriate simplicity. I admired John Saunders lighting design, which unobtrusively delineates space, place and time. Catherine F. Norgren’s costumes winningly reinforce the characters and the period. For a script that repeatedly emphasizes minimalism, I was disappointed that Gaffney and Troy Hourie settled on an overdone, if attractive set. Less would have been more.

(Incidentally, to make the evening complete, do have a hot buttered rum at the Studio Arena bar. They’re delicious and they continue to serve them after the performance).

CORSETLESS

A tour de force performance would seem to be the whole point of Corsetless, and that is what this one-woman play, written and performed by Catherine Eaton, delivers. The play recycles lines from Shakespeare to fashion an original narrative, in which a woman is confined to a mental hospital because she refuses to use any other language. Eaton portrays the woman, conveniently named Olivia, who interacts with the pre-recorded voice of actor Vincent O’Neill as a doctor who has known her since childhood.

There is a great history of performances of this kind. Actresses like Cornelia Otis Skinner and Vinette Carroll made their careers on them, fashioning material to showcase their talents in ways no other producer seemed willing to try.

Eaton is a remarkably charismatic actress and a born leading lady. She navigates Shakespeare’s language with stylish ease and ekes delightfully unexpected moments of humor from some of his most famous lines by winging them in at unlikely moments. Much of the fun of this evening involves trying to place Shakespearean text recited outside its original context. A refresher on R&J, Lear and the first Henry IV may enhance your evening, but is not a prerequisite. The conceit is inventive and provides a fun variation on evenings of Shakespeare previously fashioned by actors like Bryan Bedford of Michael Redgrave, who recycled their great roles. Eaton takes on material she has yet to play, as well as some for which she would be ineligible.

More than pose questions about the confining or defining nature of language, Corsetless seems to offer us some answers to questions about acting, and specifically about Eaton’s palpable talents. It certainly provides a literate evening of theater, and Eaton proves, once again, to be enjoyable company.