Matthew J. Palm: What is art? Play ponders issue joyfully.
What is art? No, wait, come back. This is not — I repeat, not — going to be one of those ponderous essays full of highfalutin words that make your head hurt.
I can promise you that because “Bakersfield Mist,” onstage in a stellar Orlando Shakespeare Theater production, is neither ponderous nor highfalutin. It is a clearly stated, thought-provoking and cleverly funny examination of the value of art, self-worth, people’s ability to create their own reality, society’s reliance on “experts” and the nature of criticism.
All these big ideas fit snugly in one little 80-minute play.
Writer Stephen Sachs has created two diametrically opposed characters to populate his story, which, although inspired by a real-life incident, is a work of fiction. At first glance, it must be said, the pompous art expert and earthy trailer-park resident appear to be mere stereotypes, and actors Steve Brady and Anne Hering seem, well, actorish.
Only later does it become clear that this is a shrewd way for Sachs and director Matt Pfeiffer to draw the audience in, through a comfortable setup and easy laughs. It’s where the play goes from there that surprises.
While the characters fret about the authenticity of a large, paint-spattered work of art at center stage, the audience begins to look for signs of authenticity in the story’s humans. Who are these people, really?
Maude Gutman (Hering), a woman knocked about by life, has pinned her hopes on a $3 painting she bought at a junk shop. She has hired art expert Lionel Percy (Brady) to fly in from New York and determine whether her painting is by acclaimed artist Jackson Pollock — and worth millions — or worthy only of the scrap heap.
But as the two uneasily share drinks in Maude’s clutter-filled trailer, we begin to see there’s more to this woman than Pall Mall cigarettes and bottles of Jack Daniel’s. And despite his supercilious tone, Percy also reveals hidden depths, a misstep or two along his primrose path.
Pfeiffer deftly transitions his actors from the broader comedy of the start to the deeper revelations of the play’s latter half, and Hering and Brady stay well clear of melodrama and false pity.
Scenic designer Vandy Wood’s trailer, with its Rolling Rock-labeled beer glasses and broken lampshades, is the perfect setting to debate the worth of the painting, as well as the value of more important things.
“It’s not about the money,” shouts Maude. Indeed, it’s not. And that’s what makes this play such a joy.