Of the many mysteries in Broadway’s current revival of The Rose Tattoo—and there are many—the one that looms largest must be: What in the name of John Waters is the deal with the pink flamingos?
Perhaps they’re meant to evoke the “almost tropical” setting that Tennessee Williams specifies in his production notes (even though we generally associate the flamingo—especially in its plastic form—with Florida, and the play takes place on the Gulf Coast “somewhere between New Orleans and Mobile”). Maybe it’s simply their color: The lawn ornaments are perfectly pink, and the home of our heroine, Serafina delle Rose (Marisa Tomei, giving an earthy, passionate performance), is supposed to be soaked in the shade. Or perhaps scenic designer Mark Wendland just got a bulk rate on the Day-Glo plastic birds, and he liked how terrifically tacky they look—especially behind the makeshift shrine to the Blessed Virgin where Serafina prays regularly, down on her knees asking, “Oh, Lady! Give me a sign!”
The Rose Tattoo is a curiosity in the Williams oeuvre—an unconventional, almost schizophrenic amalgam of tragedy, situational comedy, and unadulterated optimism. Serafina giddily awaits the arrival of her tattooed truck driver husband Rosario; Estelle (Tina Benko), the woman everyone but Serafina knows as Rosario’s mistress, commissions seamstress Serafina to sew a man’s rose-colored silk shirt; the neighbors inform Serafina of her husband’s death; she declines into an unkempt, almost catatonic animale; her rebellious 15-year-old daughter, Rosa (Ella Rubin, attempting to sound vaguely Southern-ish), falls hopelessly, clumsily in love with a sailor, Jack (Burke Swanson, attempting to sound somewhere in the vicinity of Southern-ish); Serafina lashes out at everyone around her. That’s all in the first act. It’s not until Act 2 that Serafina gets her groove back, when she meets Alvaro Mangiacavallo (Emun Elliott, whose accent veers into that’s-a-spicy-meatball territory). Then The Rose Tattoo turns into what Williams called in his memoirs “my love-play to the world.” Williams dedicated the play to his Sicilian-American partner, Frank Merlo: “To Frankie, in Return for Sicily.”
[Read David Finkle’s ★★★ review here.]
That’s a lot for a director to wrangle, and Trip Cullman (Choir Boy, Lobby Hero)—who I suspect would do a bang-up job with another slightly wacko Williams play, Camino Real—might be as overwhelmed by the flock of flamingos as the rest of us. Though Williams specifies the presence of a guitar-playing Sicilian folk singer between scenes, Cullman here expands that stage direction into a distracting wandering female Greek chorus. There’s also the much smaller matter of the live goat, which was probably done away with for practical reasons. (Maybe the one who appeared in the 2016 Williamstown Theatre Festival production had a scheduling conflict.)
But the excision of a major male authority figure is another matter altogether. It’s no big deal to cut the Doctor; his purpose is easily absorbed by Assunta (Carolyn Mignini), who’s kind of a witch doctor. But Father de Leo? A Sicilian immigrant community in 1950 would have at least one priest to counsel and comfort. In the original script, he is there with the women when we learn of Rosario’s death. He also speaks against cremation—which Serafina does, so she can keep her dead husband’s ashes in a place of honor (going against the Church). Later, when Serafina totally loses it and starts wandering outside in a slip, Father de Leo is the one who confronts her. Yet she only wants one thing from Father de Leo—knowledge about her husband: “Did he ever speak to you about a woman?” Now, she’s asking that question of Assunta. Why would a cheating man talk to a woman who knows the business of everyone in the neighborhood (who would likely tell his wife)? He would confess to a priest. Also, when Serafina physically attacks the Father, it’s pretty shocking; it shows how far she’s fallen.
Perhaps removing the less-significant male characters is supposed to focus more squarely on the blossoming parallel love stories: the awkward, oh-so-idealistic teenage pairing of Rosa and Jack, and the awkward, cynical, mature coupling of Serafina and Alvaro. But sometimes the sauce just doesn’t come together.
The Rose Tattoo opened Oct. 15, 2019, and runs through Dec. 8 at the American Airlines Theatre. Tickets and information: roundabouttheatre.org
