Theater Review: Eventide’s ‘Almost, Maine’ Looks At Love From Every Angle

DENNIS – Back in 2006, I remember stumbling across an anthology film called “Paris, Je t’Aime.” It featured 22 vignettes within the City of Love that were tied together within its titular theme, love. For the longest time I believed it to be a singular piece of art, at least within the context of cultivating a certain emotion within me. But then, on a Friday night in February, I traveled to “Almost, Maine,” and that inquisitive notion was felt once again.

On Friday, Feb. 20, Eventide Theater Company debuted its latest production, “Almost, Maine,” originally written in 2004 by John Cariani. Directed by Mark Bishop, who also did scenic and sound design for the production, “Almost, Maine” is a collection of nine vignettes across two acts, each with four scenes, and a singular scene spread out across a prologue, interlogue and an epilogue. The story looks at love from a variety of angles: love lost, love found, love that could have been, love that never was and love that always will be. Each story, whether it be through humor or heartache, posits an idea of what love is. Through the laughs and the tears and the moments that draw connection, a truth develops.

The production of “Almost, Maine” at Eventide was certainly lovely. The performance bills itself as a romantic comedy, yet stopping at such a characterization wouldn’t be appropriate. While it has couples navigating the requisite awkward silences of needing to say “I love you” or embracing the ambiguity in relationships, the play itself is so much more than what popular audiences may think of when they hear the phrase. Individually, each scene may seem akin to a 100-days-of Christmas special, but when pieced together, the play attempts to say something much more. Cariani’s play is a treatise on what it is to love, and Bishop’s adaptation certainly fits the bill.

Bishop sets his scene appropriately, cultivating a stage adorned with portraits of snowy mountains upon large flats with a projected starry center, of which feature the northern lights that serves as a transition point in many stories. The stage, to start, is lit in a soft blue and a somber magenta, as if to mimic the afterglow of an open winter’s night under the stars. The play makes great use of its projection, shifting between stars and interiors in a manner that’s natural and fluid. When everything is paired together, it crafts an atmosphere akin to a snowy mountain town.

If there is a thread in this collection of stories, it exists outside the structure of its acts. The prologue, interlogue and epilogue contain a singular scene featuring a couple sharing said starry night. The prologue opens to a well-played awkward silence. Our couple, Pete and Ginette, played by DJ Kosta and Chelsea Callahan, sit on a bench struggling to find the next thing to say to one another. They look and smile and the tension builds, drawing laughs from the audience, until finally Ginette blurts out, “I love you.” Taken aback, Pete eventually regains composure and lets Ginette know that he loves her too. It’s at that point that the play finds its tone. After a comment from Ginette that she finally feels close to Pete, Pete tells Ginette that she isn’t really close to him at all, explaining his idea by showing how connected they are with a snowball as a de facto globe.

The moment can only be characterized as an instance of a guy thinking he has said something really profound and sweet, and his girl having no clue what he’s actually trying to say. Disheartened, Ginette exits and Pete is left alone, watching her go, holding his snowball. The scene is the perfect encapsulation of the play at large. It’s chock full of the moments that anyone would expect from a romantic comedy: relatable tension, humor in the awkward and well-crafted characters that an audience can get behind. Yet where the play differs from traditional Hallmark fare is in its moments of sadness. Whether it be a relationship ending or a moment materializing into a reality, the low beats of the play are so well acted across the board that they make way for the moments of levity or connection to hit as well as they do… and they do.

Each scene serves as a play within the play, and while it would be warranted to go on at length about each vignette and how it fits into the whole, it would be far more appropriate just to go see it. The cast - Liz Argo, Todd Cashdollar, Keith Chamberlain, Shannen Dando, TaylorJae Davis, Emma Miles, Denise Page, Patrick Preston, and Kosta and Callahan – all have moments that will draw the gambit of emotions from any audience member. Most, if not all, play multiple roles and the fluidity of the casting allows for a deeper connection with the story. These people play everyone. And since they’re everyone, it means we could be any one of them. When a story allows you to relate to its text like that, it typically serves the narrative well. In this case, “Almost, Maine” is positively perfect.