The colorful world of historical re-enactment is tailor-made for the stage. Adults dressing up to re-create past events? That’s like theater where the actors would also be the audience — and vice versa!
You can see what drew playwright Jessica Dickey to the subject for her new “Row After Row,” at Women’s Project. But the show waffles between comic satire and earnest drama without doing either convincingly.
The action takes place in ye olde tavern in Gettysburg, Pa., where Cal (P.J. Sosko) and Tom (Erik Lochtefeld) show up after participating in a re-enactment of that bloody Civil War battle. They’re still in uniform — Cal a Virginia general, Tom a Union grunt — and are ready for their traditional post-skirmish beer.
Except someone’s sitting at their usual table, and she’s not budging.
The intense, unsmiling Leah (Rosie Benton) is also in uniform — Confederate — and the bro-like Cal immediately takes her to task: “Your nose ring? No. Your jewelry? Uh-uh. The color of the wool? Passable. The thread count? No. Mid-1900s, not 1863.”
The guys accuse the rookie intruder of “farbing,” an expression meaning that “something in one’s uniform or outfit or gear or behavior isn’t accurate to the historical context.”
“Most people don’t realize the commitment goes beyond sleeping in a tent and wearing wool in July,” says Tom, a serious-minded history teacher.
The premise holds the making of a pretty decent comedy, with familiar but effective types: the mysterious stranger rebuilding her life, the brash dude who’s more sensitive than he appears, and his sincere, put-upon bestie.
But Dickey undercuts her momentum by alternating between the present and 1863, when the trio switches to a heightened, poetic speech to embody their period characters. The point is less than clear. Something or other about America’s divisive legacy? This could have been explored without the overbearing flashbacks.
The cast is fine and Daniella Topol’s production stylish, with an evocative set by Clint Ramos that features a stone inn surrounded by chopped wood. In the end, though, “Row After Row” is as hopelessly caught up in its past as its characters.