i il :i r, -n it ;t i D
by Dr. Cdbl tioMßerg
There is entertainment 1 in Hazleton,
at Highacres, fcheap* fdr students
(free), and, it’s fun! On the evenings
of April 25-28, two one act plays;
“Sganatelle” by ’Mo'liere and
“Episode in the Llfe*6f the Author” by
Anouilh, were performed by students
and staff in the Highacres Commons.
These plays were right on for spring,
but where were you, oh disembodied
student who claims Hazleton and
Highacres the land of pat, pet, pit, pot
and put (as in patsies, for the dogs, a
collection of pit stops, pot’s pot, and
put your foot on the gas and let’s get
out of here)? .
“Sganarelle” was a laugh, for real;
it was genuinely’ furitfy 1 . It is one of
those “old!” plays you' blight read in
Humanities I, biit whren your friends
add life to it, it’s much more like new
beaujolais, tastey, nourishing, refresh
ing.. This play concerns a series of
misunderstandings foF its plot: Nora
Reichard as “Celie” was convincing as
the'woman told whom to marry by her
chauvinest father, played by Dr. Joe
Marchesani. Her first love, “Lelie” as
played by Dave Pearson was frustrated
in his love not only by her father but
also by that accidental interloper,
“Sganarelle,” a comically boorish sot
as performed by Glen Puhak.
Sganarelle’s wife was interpreted by
Joan Varsics: she thought he was
messing around with Celie while he
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thought his wife was being too cozy
with Lelie. So far all five characters
didn’t realize their problem but Celie’s
maid, Michele Baymore, did. Mark
Manges was Lelie’s fascinatingly
skinny yet portly (both wine and gut
portly) manservant, “Gros Rene.”
Mr. Jim White was Mme. Sganarelle’s
relative who advised Sganarelle to
think twice before accusing her openly
of infidelity. Dr. Carl Frankel as
Villebrequin helped get lovers
together when he proclaimed Celie
free from marrying a character already
married, presumably offstage.
Now if the plot or the fun escapes
you, I’m sorry you couldn’t be there. It
was very well done, but I find it
difficult to share the enjoyment with
you: You had to be there; and I’m sure
there was at least one person like you,
reader, there; the audience I watched
watch liked the play very much. The
audience also liked the second play.
“Episode in the Life of an Author”
is one of those plays which is hard to
perform. By the end, all characters are
on stage, each doing his or her thing in
seeming disharmony with the others.
Even though there were some minor
stretches of timing (e.g., the phone is
ringing but no one has called yet), the
play was a success because each
performer harmoniously helped to
depict one of those times when nothing
goes right. Besides, phones do weird
things anyway. y
The main character whose roof leaks
and whose world tumbles down on top
of him was Mark Peterson, “The
Author.” His day seemed to start out
relatively no different than others; his
maid (Michelle Baymor) is crying and
his wife, Ardele (Kathleen Zellner) is
leaving. This is interrupted by a
Rumanian journalist. Mme.
Bessarabo (Stephanie Franz), who
wants to get the picture, but he with
the Mme. are themselves interrupted
frequently in their endeavor by wife,
maid, and phone calls: Kathy Abott
played an anonymous woman who
wants to speak to “Leon,” a guy who
doesn’t exist in the story; Carol Eames
was the “Friend” who called for
critical advice about a filmscript. Then
it got worse for the hero. His mother
(Suze Kemper) arrived brandishing
ads for flats for rent and sale; she
thinks, evidently that he doesn’t know
that this is mostly an excuse to see her
dear little boy and to aggravate his
wife. Next the “Housing Inspector”
, (Randine Matthews) paid a visit to tell
the author that his house is too big for
him and that the government will
supply him with new roomies. Some
how, other tenants arrived, but not the
ones just mentioned, like three
plumbers (Alvina Lapcoskie, Joyce
Minor, and Lisa Morano) who explored
for the cause of a rather punctiliously
editorial water leak which dripped
from the ceiling more and more as the
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play progressed; like “La Surette”
(Gerry Nork) who wanted a hand out
and asked the maid for it; like
“Gontran” (Dom Morollo) who burned
himself out explaining how - well, he
never got that far before he collapsed.
Due to the players’ skill, only then
did the plot get confusing. All
characters were on stage, holding
some kind of receptacle to catch water
leaking from the ceiling, jostling
about, yelling, accusing, shooting
(pictures and gun), crying, lieing and
lying and more . . . And that’s way I
think the audience identified with the
“author” in this play; sometimes our
reality is like this. The play was
enjoyed also because it was well done,
and oh, did I forget to mention that
each character had a nose a’ la
Bergerac which stunned the audience
into nasal expectation of each new
character’s entrance?
All in all, Mrs. Moyer, who directed
“Sganarelle,” and Mr. Breckenridge,
who directed “Episode,” should be
praised for their care, time, and
ingenuity. The players should be
thanked for proving their fellow
students full of bologna in thinking
nothing quality and interesting ever
happens at Highacres. Finally, the
production staff and the drama steer
ing committee should be given a
hearty thanks for aiding and abetting
pleasure.