Just before I reach the “Welcome to Inman Park” sign, to the left stands an unassuming building–a converted school. There’s plenty of space to park. I gather myself and head for the sign that reads: Entrance. I enter. The signage is quite clear, prompting me to make a right. I head up the stairs, and I’m greeted by smiling faces. I take notice of the variant demographic that lingers.
Soon after, we’re released to the house, where I select my seat–high and center. The set is beautiful. The makings of an old studio apartment, a rusted steel door with a city latch, worldly furniture that features the characters’ taste and a panoramic view for the audience to enjoy.
I decide that the audience deserves another review. My eyes search the theatre, gathering data. I’m a fan of diversity, and here, there is no shortage of reasons to chant and scream. Any reason to unite different races, socio-economic backgrounds, political opinions and personal preferences is a brilliant reason.
I shift in my seat, becoming anxious for the play to begin. Out sashays this beautiful creature who introduces herself as the director. Lisa Adler is a co-founder of Horizon Theatre and the co-artistic and producing director for “Time Stands Still.” Articulate and poised, she introduces the production written by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Donald Marguiles. In graceful fashion, she exits the stage.
The lighting adjusts and the journey begins. The play starts without frivolous detail and is launched by a defining moment. Two shell-shocked war journalists come home after emotional anguish and physical assault, returning to face a different kind of war. Their lives are examined, poked and prodded and then reexamined.
Throughout the production, chuckles sound from every corner. Then, in those poignant moments, I hear those agreeing, “Mmms.” Like a minister in the pulpit, this cast delivers a worldly sermon, creating several amen corners. The writing and delivery prompt moments of resonation that stick with you well into the next scene and to the parking lot.
Robin Bloodworth and Carolyn Cook are magical, self-transforming genies. They propel into an arena that is provocative and relatable. Seamlessly, I’m guided through these lives, that are left in shambles of shrapnel and blood and human remains. This couple studies the aftermath of their careers and comes to a temporary agreement, concerning the next phase of their lives.
Annmarie Gideon plays a quirky, light-hearted, optimist, and Chris Kayser portrays her much older boyfriend who is also far more astute than she. These four actors explore opposing opinions, creating an in-your-face dynamic. Each of them see the world from their unique perspective, and take no issue sharing it with each other.
The writing is natural, devoid any trace of contrivance. Never did I question the words that were spoken. The writing and delivery are both honest and impacting. Issues are discussed without force as the words perfectly tread the characters’ lips. Issues of culture, race, xenophobia, intimacy, crossroads, marriage–happiness–are all reviewed without labor. The actors offer an effortless performance.