events of >September 11 (she lives in New York) and recommended an off broadway play >called "the Guys" or "Guys" at the Flee(sp?) theatre with Amy Irving and >Tom Womack that will probably be running through September.
the show is called "the guys" and it's running at "the flea", a downtown theater space. the show has been rotating celebs through the two roles so it probably wouldn't be irving and womack by september. a movie (maybe for cable) is planned 'the guys' refers to new york's firefighters. here's how the play came to be. a fire dept captain was writing so many eulogies that it was tearing him up. he was advised and sought the help of a college professor, who helped him write the eulogies. she eventually turned the whole encounter into a play. she somehow knew jim simpson, the artistic director of the flea, (and sigourney weaver's husband) and so on. most of the proceeds go to charity, and a certain number of tickets every night are reserved for firemen. i hear the audiences get pretty choked up. here's a review of the first cast (sigourney and bill murray). whew! Jan 25, 2002 The Guys Reviewed By: David Finkle Its often said that holocausts are difficult, if not impossible, to write about. And yet, out of horror or frustration or a sense of helplessness or a need to pitch in, writers insist on wrestling with the subject. Many playwrights are undoubtedly at work right now, dramatizing their responses to the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, transmuting their thoughts and emotions into characters and dialogue. Theyve come to realize, as so many did in the days after September 11, that the best way to go forward is to do what one does best. The first produced of these response pieces has set a high standard and, astonishingly its not the work of a longtime practitioner; its first-time playwright Anne Nelsons two-hander The Guys. This profoundly understanding and involving 90-minute play came to be when Flea Theater artistic director Jim Simpson, at the suggestion of a company member, sought out a cathartic work to heal psychic and financial wounds sustained from being located so close to ground zero. He found The Guys, which Nelson seems to have written from two heartsher own and that of a grieving fireman. Joan (Sigourney Weaver) is an editor like Nelson, devastated by the catastrophic events of 9/11 and disturbed by what she sees as her irrelevance to the recovery. She jumps at the chance to help Nick (Bill Murray), a tongue-tied fire department captain, compose eulogies for the men hes lost. The genius here is in the simplicity of Nelsons set-up: Shes found both a stand-in for those grieving over family and friends and a stand-in for those spared immediate personal loss but feeling immobilized by damaged understanding. As The Guys unfolds, Nick tells Joan what he knows about his associates and she turns the facts and feelings into eulogies; then either Nick or Joan read them aloud to test their appropriateness. Thats it, and its more than enough. Along the way, Nick becomes the voice of what seems like hundreds of bereft firemen who may be thinking theyve suddenly been acclaimed heroes without necessarily believing they fit the partnot when its their buddies who are dead. These men, Nelson makes clear, are not the uncomplicated, selfless fellows currently being lionized, though she also has Nick declare that this is the best job in the world. Giving Joan some background on four of the guys, as he continually calls them, Nick illustrates that each was complex in his own way. They include the cut-up welder; the eager kid only two weeks into his service; and Patrick, the veteran lieutenant who happened to be Nicks best friend. In the lighter moments that Nelson skillfully slips into the melancholy proceedings, Nick explains some fire-fighting basics. And, in an unexpected revelation, he expresses his passion for the tango. Joan, who occasionally steps in and out of a separate spotlight as the distraught narrator, represents that segment of New Yorks population experiencing an unquenchable urge to be useful. In a series of quick strokes, Nelson conjures a believable Upper West Side sophisticate whod come to Manhattan from Oklahoma and, in time, thought shed nailed down the good life. Joan talks about the prevalence nowadays of the question Are you okay? She explains her ripple theory of the afflicted. She fantasizes about tangoing with Nick. In an outraged metaphorical and metaphysical digression, she gets caught up in explaining how cortisol released in the brain causes irreversible deterioration. Finally, Joan puts forth the impossible conditions under which she would accept reparation: She wants world events to go into reverse in the manner of news footage run backwards. (Nelson understands that the wish-fulfillment plea is a symptom of denial that is still relevant.) Director Simpson gives The Guys a production as distilled as the premise. On the rooms polished hardwood floors, set and lighting designer Kyle Chepulis has placed two comfortable chairs and two low tables on which a few props rest. There are also music stands on which the actors, garbed unobtrusively in street clothes chosen by costume designer Claudia Brown, place their texts. Simpsons work is often extremely energetic, but he has adopted a less-is-more approach for this enterprise. Theres a whole lot of sitting and note-taking going on here; indeed, the only real movement is the minute-long tango, performed to music composed by Nelson. This stripped-down approach to the material couldnt be righter. The performances, however, are anything but stripped down. Weaver sees Joan as a women who, while speaking to you, is forever looping her long hair behind her ears. Shes intelligent and witty (How many times did I vote for Mark Green? she asks herself ruminatively), but shes also anxious, and both the anxiety and the intellect show in her eyes. Weaver has played variations on this character before, but never so economically. She may not be doing much physically but she makes it manifest that Joans mind is never at rest: The woman has been disillusioned, Weaver shows, and her recovery will be slow and probably incomplete. Its the new normal, she says, with pain on her face. Bill Murray, as Nick, hasnt played anything like this role before. Nevertheless he is astonishing. What hes doing as Nick is great acting in that he has completely disappeared into the part. Leaning back uneasily in his chair and occasionally fingering his shirttail, hes the Irish fireman down the block, humble and quietly philosophical. But hes todays fireman down the block, suffering but uncomfortable in venting his feelings to a stranger. When Nick breaks down while listening to the speech Joan has written for him to read at Patricks memorial service, Murray is moving without giving himself over to the sentimentality into which Nelsons script occasionaly threatens to descend but consistently avoids. Every emotion, from concern to fear to excitement to dedication to reflection, plays across Murrays lined face, and its amazing to watch. Right, now theres probably no one in the city giving a better, more burnished performancethe kind that, were it to appear on screen, would automatically lead to Oscar talk. (Murray finishes his run this weekend; Bill Irwin will follow him for two-weeks. Weaver will continue in the play for the foreseeable future.) Theres no need for anyone to be reminded how hard New York City was hit by the September 11 attacks. People like Joan, who are seeking the rays of good that might flash from such incomprehensible evil, will find at least one dazzling glint in Anne Nelsons The Guys.
