Sunshine by Dark & Stormy Productions, performing in the old Grain Belt Brewery

Nels Lennes and Sara Marsh in Sunshine. Photo by Melissa Hesse.

Sunshine is having a terrible, no-good, very bad day. First, she works a long shift at the (sex) Club Paradise, dancing desultorily (and behind a dirty window) for pathetically lonely men, men who masturbate openly onto the concrete (one hopes) floor. Then, chased down a late-nite street by her abusive husband, Sunshine barges into Nelson’s cruddy one room apartment and begs him for safe asylum. Nelson is, no surprise, not happy to see her.

At least initially. The premise of William Mastrosimone‘s Sunshine (Dark & Stormy Productions, performing in a studio at the Grain Belt Brewery – visit the website for specific directions) is that Sunshine and Nelson, big-city waifs, proverbial ships passing in the muggy night, lonely and put-upon (Sunshine’s hubby boils her beloved pet lobster, Claws), make a real connection. They listen to each other’s problems. Commiserate with each other. Nelson finally, tentatively, massages Sunshine’s naked shoulders. They they…

I’ll stop here. Does the friendship that Nelson and Sunshine strike up last? See the play and find out.

Sunshine is an old fashioned play. It harkens back to the days of landlines and cameras with film. More to the point, the basic idea, that two strangers like Sunshine and Nelson can more or less instantly find meaningful common ground is, here in the 21st century, contrived and hard to believe. It put me mind of 70s dramas like P.S. Your Cat Is Dead and When You Coming Back, Red Ryder. Contemporary playwrights are too cynical, too wary, too hard-bitten to write material like this. This old-fashioned-ness kept me from really getting involved in the play.

There is another issue: do we make enough discoveries about the characters to sustain the long apartment scene? I’m not sure we do. (But perhaps I was simply distracted by my butt-numbing stool, in the back row; avoid these).

Firmly directed by Mel Day, Sunshine is played by Sara Marsh, D&S’s artistic director (who appears, I believe, in every one of their productions). Marsh does nifty work, by turns angry, kittenish, then cynical and sexy, spouting hallucinatory diatribes, gobbling instant pudding, begging for beer, etc. Marsh effectively energizes Sunshine.

I am of two minds about Nels Lennes as Nelson. Sometimes I found him patterned and predictable. Sometimes Lennes explodes with passion and power. Interesting performance.

And then, saving the best for last, there is Tony Sarnicki as Robby, the obsessive student who professes to be in love with Sunshine. Pathetic, rageful, weepy, spending dollars he doesn’t have, bent with pathos, I gloried is his lust, his profound loneliness. I look forward to seeing more from this resourceful actor.

John Olive is a writer living in Minneapolis. His book about the ancient magic of bedtime stories, Tell Me A Story In The Dark, has been published. His play, Art Dog, is currently running at Salt Lake Acting Co. His screenplay, A Slaying Song Tonight, has been optioned. In progress: a theatrical portrait of the great Anna May Wong. www.johnolive.net.