Go out of curiosity or for its familiarity. Go for a fun night out or to support a high-quality local theater company. Regardless of your motivations, Miners Alley’s production of “Misery” delivers on its fair share of dark pleasures.
Warren Sherrill directs his ace ensemble — Emma Messenger, Torsten Hillhouse and Mark Collins — with an eerie mix of hoot and horror as well as a fine appreciation for what remains absurd and theatrical about the set-up of William Goldman’s play, based on Stephen King’s 1987 bestselling novel. Goldman penned the 1990 hit film, too.
Bestselling author Paul Sheldon (Hillhouse) had been holed up in the Colorado mountains putting final touches on his latest manuscript. Finished, he shushes down the roads in his ‘66 Mustang during a snowstorm (boneheaded, to be sure) and goes off the road. The crash leaves him with broken legs and a dislocated shoulder. If not for nurse Annie Wilkes (Messenger), Paul would have died in the cold.
The play opens in Annie’s home. Jonathan Scott McKean’s set, like Annie, appears homey. Paul lies in a bed, unconscious. “Paul, itap me,” Annie says in a soothing if too intimate voice. “Nothing bad can happen to you now. I’m your number one fan,” Paul awakes to his rescuer.
It has always been a deft trick of “Misery” that our feelings about its primary duo morph from cautious sympathy for Annie to a visceral concern for Paul.
Annie has stabilized his tib-fib fracture, popped his shoulder back in its socket and started him on Novril, a highly addictive painkiller. The favorite online definition of the fictional drug’s downsides: “Sedative effect makes it hard to escape from deranged fans holding you captive.” Yes, Annie is a Class A stalker. If the phrase “I’m your No. 1 fan” were a drinking game, the audience at Golden’s new Miners Performing Arts Center would’ve been sauced.
The show’s title is a nod to Misery Chastain. Paul has featured his Victorian-era character in eight — make that nine — romance novels. Although a figment of fiction, Misery has been a real-life savior to Annie. When Annie discovers that Paul’s most recent book isn’t a Misery Chastain novel but a quasi-memoir, she’s profoundly disappointed. When she learns number nine — “Misery’s Child” — will be on sale any minute now, she’s delirious. And then she learns that in his latest book, the creator is killing off his creation.
The author’s self-proclaimed No. 1 fan becomes his No. 1 tormentor. She lies about the weather conditions keeping him snowbound. She lies about being in touch with the outside world. In a wheelchair, Paul will make painstaking and thwarted efforts to escape.
Marc Collins arrives as Buster, the sheriff. Think of him as a Rocky Mountain West version of Lieutenant Columbo. The audience can see whatap afoot in Annie’s home. Dismaying to us, he appears ready to buy whatap she’s selling … but then again. His first stop by, Buster leaves but not without a faint pause. He returns a couple of more times. Each visit, he gets closer to the truth of the situation.
With its electronic beats and pulses, John Hauser’s sound designs nudge the play’s jangle of nerves. Ditto Vance McKenzie’s lighting work. The entire production crew’s contributions are well-suited for a story in which the seemingly ordinary goes awry. An old-style, freestanding coat rack becomes an IV stand (props to prop designer Samantha Piel). Costumes by Crystal McKenzie, Annie’s second act ensemble of a skirt, cardigan and ankle socks suggest a sock-hop couture from the character’s years past and signals her growing romantic attachment to Paul.
The 1990 movie, directed by Rob Reiner, landed Kathy Bates a role she parlayed into an Academy Award for Best Actress. For her performance in the 2015 Broadway production of Goldman’s play, Laurie Metcalf was nominated for a Tony. (Bruce Willis portrayed Paul.) Annie Wilkes is one helluva character, all scenery gnawing with glints of pathos. And Messenger’s version — with its manic swings of cruelty and twisted kindness — is something to behold.
King never made Sheldon 100 percent likable, or even 50 percent likable: Thatap part of the genius of “Misery.” Torsten maneuvers his character’s shifting tones — indulgent condescending, desperate among them — along with the physical demands of the role handsomely.
Annie elicits pity more than sympathy, derision more than compassion and shock and “Aww, no she didn’t?” reactions. “Whatap that ceiling that [ethnic epithet] painted?” is such a startling question on Annie’s part, not least because Messenger delivers it so casually, so understatedly. This from a woman who takes her favorite author to task for swearing?
What Annie’s declarations of ardor, loyalty and over-identification mean about the artist-devotee relationship beats at the heart of the play. Are creators, especially ones of popular works, beholden to the readers whose affection for their creations has made them a bundle? Or to their own muses, which may at some point take them in a wholly different direction?
As Joni Mitchell says on “Miles of Aisles”: “No one ever said to Van Gogh ‘Paint another Starry Night again, man.” To which we say, “Oh, given the chance, they’d have made that request.”
IF YOU GO
Written by William Goldman, based on the Stephen King novel. Directed by Warren Sherrill. Featuring Emma Messenger, Torsten Hillhouse and Mark Collins. At Miners Alley Performing Arts Center, 1100 Miners Alley, Golden. Through Feb. 11, For tickets and info: minersalley.com or 303-935-3044.
