Peppermint Creek should be proud of its powerful 'Pride'

“The Pride” flips-flops three characters between two time periods, 1958 and 2008. The characters are not the same in both eras, but are variations of the same people if they had been born into those eras. Think of it as an alternate universe scenario.

The play opens in 1958, with a group meeting to go out to dinner. Illustrator Sylvia (Laura June Weissinger) has invited Oliver (Wes Haskell), the author for whom she works, to meet her husband Philip (City Pulse sales executive Allan I. Ross). The trio makes overly polite, socially correct chit-chat over drinks. As the men innately recognize each other’s homosexuality, their dialogue becomes laden with deeper meaning.

The brilliance in Chad Badgero’s direction — and in the performances of his cast — is in the pacing. Stillness pervades the work, as characters carefully choose their words or silently size each other up.

As bombs are dropped, facades crumble, or hearts are broken, the actors control the audience by carefully measuring their delivery of dialogue. Ross is especially good at this, which is key in his presentation of the genteel yet guarded Philip.  

The 1958 plotline is superior to its 2008 counterpoint. A script focused on the 1958 events alone would be more compelling, as an intense study of people coming to terms (or not) with behaviors considered aberrant by society.

The 2008 episodes focus on Oliver’s sex addiction and its impact on his relationship with Philip, which ties up rather a bit too neatly. Haskell gets to investigate his character more in-depth in 2008, but Philip and Sylvia become mere accessories in Oliver’s life.

The 1958 Sylvia is a much more complex and interesting character, a good woman who suffers as the collateral damage of the triangle; the 2008 Sylvia is little more than a token mouthpiece for tolerance, a variation of Grace from television’s “Will & Grace.” 

As Oliver’s straight best friend, she rails about gay rights and acts astonished and outraged over the insensitivity of others. While Weissinger brings as much freshness to the role as possible, it is a type that is played out in popular culture.

In contrast, ’58 Sylvia offers Weissinger the chance to shine. In the opening scene, she is a charming social butterfly as she introduces the two men and guides their conversation in an attempt to create a bond between them. In short order, however, we learn that Sylvia’s introduction of Oliver to her husband was a test of sorts, confirming her suspicion that Philip harbors homosexual desires.

As ’58 Sylvia confronts the two men in separate scenes, the complex barrage of emotions plays expertly across Weissinger’s face in a truly heartbreaking performance. This is a woman who masks her loneliness with perfect hair and make-up and a fine wardrobe. Her breakdown is indicated by nuanced twitches of her ruby lips.

Likewise, Ross’s portrayal of buttoned-down ’58 Philip is a tour de force. He is the contractor who builds the sexual tension of those ’58 scenes. For almost an hour, Philip and Oliver circle each other without making contact, and the tension is electrical. When the payoff comes, the moment is shockingly short: It is not the happy ending we’d hoped for.

The cast is especially adept at making the quick emotional and physical transitions necessary as their interpersonal relationships change with the eras. Weissinger slips effortlessly from brittle ’58 Sylvia to bouncy ’08 Sylvia as easily as Haskell changes from prim ’58 Oliver to prancy ’08 Oliver. Ross has the easiest transition to make in that manner, as Philip remains the controlled one throughout.