Metro Pulse/Backstage/Five Women Wearing the Same Dress

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What:
Five Women Wearing the Same Dress

When:
June 19-28. Thursday, Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m.; Sundays at 2 p.m.

Where:
Black Box Theatre, 5213 Homberg Drive, produced by Theatre Knoxville

Cost:
$12

Five Women Wearing the Same Dress proves that even genius has something to hide

by Adrienne Martini

Some things should stay hidden in the closet. I know, I know, we're now all about celebrating who we are and not hiding behind closed doors. Trust me when I say that I am down with that. Let your freak flag fly freely. Knock yourself out.

I'm talking about literal things. Take, for instance, the standard issue bridesmaid dress. My current collection stands at three—my favorite being a baby blue satin number that simply screams early '80s. I have shoes that match, too. Despite bland assurances from the bride in question, I have never worn it or the shoes again.

But I still have the dresses. While they currently live in one of my father's closets—I got too tired of packing and moving them—I can't seem to part with them, including the one that I've now owned for three times longer than that marriage lasted.

I can't cast the first stone in this particular issue. I saddled a few of my good girlfriends with a navy blue shantung number with a matching bolero jacket almost 10 years ago. They were permitted to wear their own shoes, however. The best that can be said for the dress in question was that it was cheap. One of my maids keeps moving the dress with her and, by way of revenge, promises that she will force me to wear it should I ever have to speak at some kind of formal event. I will wear it as penance.

The first few things a writer writes should stay in the closet, too. Playwright Alan Ball, who has since gone on to pen little projects like American Beauty, for which he won an Oscar, and Six Feet Under, probably wishes he could have kept Five Women Wearing the Same Dress tucked away in his closet, stacked in a paper box and heavily sealed with duct tape.

Five Women, a comedy of sorts about bridesmaids, isn't a bad play. There are genuinely funny moments. The characters—the titular five women—each get to have their own story arcs, ending in different places from where they began. For the most part, it's a frothy confection, content to be just as filling as a handful of Jordan almonds.

That's about the best that can be said of the script. Ball's primary sin may be one of trying to do too much with far too little. He tries to give each woman some dark nugget to explore, as well as use them as his mouthpieces on subjects as diverse as classism and plastic surgery and sexual identity. But the more dramatic moments ring hollow and transform into melodrama because they are so easily resolved. While there is nothing wrong with comedy that has a touch of pathos—Neil Simon has built a well-earned fortune from it—Ball didn't yet have the skill to pull it off with any success.

Had it not been written by a man who would later pull of some truly great writing feats, Five Women would have quietly disappeared, like the early play it was. Now, however, theater companies seem more inclined to drag it out of its closet and put it under the hot lights of the stage. And it really was a matter of time before a Knoxville company unearthed it, given that Five Women is set here.

Director Robert Hahn—best known locally, perhaps, as the guy behind The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, a holiday staple for the younger set—has done the best he could with such an unfinished script. His trademark slapstick makes a few appearances—but not enough to become grating. Hahn's most memorable feat may be his choices in casting this show.

The five women are what makes Five Women tick despite the weak script. Even those in smaller parts like Amy Hembree, Cheri Compton, Joy Clendenin and lone male Josh Eleazer tackle them with panache and brio. But the show truly belongs to Jess Milewicz, as the bride's precocious younger sister, and to Brandy Estep, as the world-weary libertine. Estep exudes confidence while fleshing out what little Ball has created for her character. Milewicz is magnetic and will be one to watch should she choose to further develop her already considerable talents on the Knoxville stage. It is this magical ensemble that almost manages the impossible and camouflages Ball's young script.

Each of these actresses should be proud to hang costume designer Beth Cooper's perfectly dreadful bridesmaid dresses in the front of their closets, as a symbol of what they were able to achieve with very little raw material. As for Ball, his last best hope may be that this play loses its sudden popularity and he can stuff it back where it belongs.