The dramatic pathway that playwright Alexander Dinelaris traverses in his “Red Dog Howls” is a much-travelled one: An American man discovers some old family letters that he traces back to his lost-long grandmother with whom he soon bonds.
Eventually, grandma divulges the family horror story that has long haunted him as well as her. It might involve the Holocaust or incest or murder or some such hellish experience.
In this case, it’s the infamous Armenian massacres of 1915.
Fortunately for Dinelaris’ undeniably dusty scenario, this road also leads to Kathleen Chalfant, who is terrific as the Armenian grandmother in New York Theatre Workshop’s premiere of “Red Dog Howls,” which opened on Monday.
For all of its I-can-see-it-coming familiarity, the drama is written by Dinelaris with sincerity and decent craft. His sorrowful 100-minute story builds to an effective climax that Chalfant’s superb acting knocks out of the park.
Director Ken Rus Schmoll stages a very smooth, well-tuned production that supports the play. Marsha Ginsberg designs a sparely furnished, expansive setting that quietly suggests two New York apartments and a hospital room. Tyler Micoleau’s somber lighting and Jane Shaw’s plaintive violin music reinforce a mournful mood. Designer David C. Woolard’s modest wardrobe confirms the story’s early 1980s period (although the narrator’s shoes appear oddly modern).
Florencia Lozano does ably by the thankless role of the narrator’s pregnant wife, who spends some of her time unconscious in a hospital bed. Alfredo Narciso looks good as the anxious young fellow who narrates his exploration into a painful past.
But Kathleen Chalfant’s performance is the memory that audiences will cherish about “Red Dog Howls.” So great in the original “Wit” and “Angels in America,” Chalfant here deeply invests her 91-year-old Rose with down-to-the-bone authenticity. The accent, the walk, the severe manner, the dry humor and the many details that Chalfant shades within the lines of her character are beautiful to behold, enhanced even more by her husky voice and personal intensity.
Late in the play, Rose delivers one of those Sophie’s Choice-type monologues about what happened to her in Armenia back in 1915. Her hideous story is related by Chalfant with a measured, dry-eyed anguish that suggests how Rose has lived it over again every night of her long life. It’s a stunning performance.
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