When Irish Eyes Frown

Grim and comic, The Beauty Queen of Leenane mines stereotypes for nuggets of truth

Comments (0) By Jimmy Fowler Thursday, Oct 19 2000

James Crawford and Susan Sargeant offer each other a last, best chance at love in rural Ireland...until mother comes along to spoil things.

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Through November 12 (214) 871-3300

Theatre Three, 2800 Routh St. in the Quadrangle

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Some local critics have complained that C.J. Critt, a spring chicken of a performer compared with the plump, old vulture of a role she shuffles through, mugs distractingly as Mag. That's not quite true, at least not at the performance I attended. What Critt does is attempt to compensate for some very lazy old-age makeup by stretching her face into a brow-furrowed, flat-cheeked scowl. Taking this into account, she does not work overmuch to telegraph her emotions, doesn't broaden them any more than a selfish old cuss would. Technically, I had no problem with Critt's performance; indeed, as a radio broadcaster and frequent recorder of audio books, she can control her voice as a formidable theatrical instrument without ever slipping into self- consciousness. But that's a big part of the problem--that authentic, raspy-crone voice coming out of a face with a couple of eyeliner slashes across the cheeks to indicate deep furrows. ("Blend!" I wanted to stand up and shout when I first saw her. "Blend!") Critt does as well as she can, but she seems like an emergency replacement in a role that requires an actress to make you smell that old-folks'-home smell from across the rows. Her presence means this production is hobbled from the instant the lights go up, a real shame considering the anticipation many felt when Theatre Three announced it had snagged Beauty Queen for its current season. Still, Nikki Flakks possesses enough general mastery of the material--an instinct for emphasizing the sadness behind desperate deeds without diluting their shocking power--to rescue Martin McDonagh from his own worst impulses.