Cry Havoc
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Geo Silva
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By Ben Miles
The title of Allan R. Kenward's 1942 play, Cry Havoc, is borrowed from a line in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: "Cry, 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war." But the story upon which Kenward's script is based was torn from the newspapers of the day.
In the opening months of America's military involvement in World War II, 99 U.S. nurses volunteered to travel to the Philippines and lend a brief tour-of-duty to the Army and Navy. What was meant to be nothing more than a light-Flo-Nightingale assignment, ladened with patriotic doses of symbolism--intended to boost the nation's morale--turned into a harrowing war story in itself. The nurses became trapped on the Philippine peninsula known as Bataan. They were captured by Japanese soldiers and became the largest contingency of female prisoners-of-war in history.
Cry Havoc premiered in Los Angeles during a period of enforced blackout (no lights after dark in order to limit the Japanese Navy's off-shore spying). Due to the show's currency, the play was a Hollywood hit, as well as a hot-scene where the red, white, and true-blue Tinsel Town glitterati were proud to be seen. It did so well in its L.A. debut that it traveled on to Broadway, but under the title Proof Through the Night. There it didn't fare as well, closing after a half-dozen performances. Nevertheless, in 1943, MGM resurrected Cry Havoc as a film project, restoring it to its original name. With mid-century movie marvels such as Ann Southern and Joan Blondell, "Cry Havoc" was a profitable box-office endeavor.
Now this rarely performed dust-bunny of a play is receiving a fresh staging at Anaheim's Gallery Theatre, through April 5. Director Glenn Kelman's achievement in releasing the time-capsule quality inherent in Havoc is impressive, even if there are quibbles that can and should be made with regard to the details of the mise en scene. For instance, the character of Doc Marsh (an easily believed Harlene Miller) is readily identified as holding the rank of captain, yet she sports Marine Corps corporal stripes on her khaki sleeves. Why not eliminate this small but distracting error? After all, it is the small details of a show that an audience's willing-suspension-of-disbelief is either fortified or weakened.
With a rustic, barracks-like set design by Mark Torreso, various technical feats such as explosions and a cave-in, thanks to stage technician Ryan Austerman, Joe Pileggi's sound design, and director Kelman's lighting work, Cry Havoc is a far cry from most plays audiences are likely to encounter: a patriotic period piece with no male roles. A lively ensemble of actresses, including standouts Alyssa Braddoc, loaded with "don't ask, don't tell" subtext, as Steve; Katherine Prenvost, resonating with Rosie-the-Riveter vitality, as Grace; and Stephanie Schultz as man-hungry, funny girl Helen, enhance the show. Moreover, in spite of playwright Kenward's heavy-handed dialogue and the melodramatic plotline --stereotypical of WWII-era studio propaganda films--that is embedded in the historical narrative, Cry Havoc does allow us to understand and pay homage to our war "Sheroes" of yesteryear, and by extension to those who carry on that tradition today in places like Iraq and Afghanistan.
Cry Havoc continues at the Gallery Theatre--3152 La Palma Avenue, Suite G, Anaheim--through April 5. Show times are at 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays and 7 p.m. on Sundays. There are also two 2 p.m. matinee performances on Saturday March 28 and Saturday April 4. For reservations, dial (714) 630 9870. For more details, visit www.gallerytheatre.com.
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