By SHARON EBERSON

Birthday Candles leans into the poignancy of one woman’s journey of 100 years, punctuated by personal events that warm and break hearts, along with the inevitable family rituals that span generations.

The moving City Theatre production of Noah Haidle’s work, directed by Marc Masterson, tugs at heartstrings and funny bones with gusto, eliciting sniffles, sobs and raucous laughter from the opening-night audience on Friday.

In a dichotomy that weaves its way into every stop along the timeline, the play overflows with celestial references and the yearning to find one’s place in the universe, as well as the annual tradition of making a birthday cake from scratch.

The inimitable Pittsburgh actress Robin Walsh plays protagonist Ernestine, from age 17 to “eternity,” complemented by an outstanding quintet of actors who move in and out of her life, portraying multiple characters at varying ages.

Ernestine’s boundless spirit entrances her boyhood pal, Gavin Lawrence’s endearingly nerdy and comical Kenneth, who observes that Ernestine is on a “pilgrimage toward finding your place in the scale of the universe.”

Kenneth’s entrances are marked by humor and hope in the timeline of the aspirational girl from Grand Rapids, Michigan, whom we meet as she is about to star as “Queen” Lear, in her senior year play.

Time speeds by in a 1950s-style kitchen, where Ernestine’s mother remembers bathing her in a sink – the same sink where successive generations are told that they, too, were cleansed at the beginning of their journeys. 

While all around her make waves, Ernestine tries to steer the ship of her life on an even keel. Birthdays are grounded in the ritual of making a cake “with the humblest ingredients … and atoms left over from creation …,” among the often repeated lines passed down from Ernestine’s mother, Alice (Deena Aziz), and to generations to come.

Kenneth remains another constant, offering Ernestine a lifetime of devotion and, for her 18th birthday, a goldfish named Atman – the Sanskrit word for the divinity in one’s self. Atman and its ensuing, um, ancestors, are ever-present, with the notable trait that goldfish have a three-second memory span. Placed front and center, it is at easy to become fixated on the fishbowl and the perpetual motion of its inhabitant.

Kenneth’s attempts to woo Ernestine with gifts are foiled by the arrival of the clueless but very tall guy in the varsity sweater, Andrew William Smith as Matt.

In an exchange akin to It’s a Wonderful Life – with Ernestine as George Bailey – the “rebel against the universe” declares her independence from and her love for Matt, almost in the same breath. Her fate is sealed.

Ernestine and Matt’s apparently wholesome life together flies by, and suddenly hipster daughter Madeline (Aziz) – who announces she prefers the name Athena – and rebellious son Billy (José Pérez IV) are at odds with their parents. 

Life continually throws curveballs at Ernestine that could make for a soapy tear-jerker, but Birthday Candles keeps on keeping on, offering salves to follow devastation, and with Walsh personifying a pillar of resilience.

As Matt, Smith plays a man stuck in a father-knows-best time warp, battling with his son and doting on his troubled daughter, while seemingly taking his wife for granted.

When Matt says, “You’re my kite, and I am your string,” he explains how he sees their marriage. His wife can fly only as far as he allows, although she longs for the stars – or at least, an adventure, far from Grand Rapids.. 

Walsh’s steadfast Ernestine, however, exudes a generosity of spirit that casts a wide net, to include Billy’s angst-ridden wife – Saige Smith, enchanting in as several characters along the generational timeline.

The actors playing multiple roles are rock solid, changing in tone and physicality from scene to scene. Saige Smith charms with a youthful flair, while Peréz often takes a darker turn, both to great effect. Aziz ages in reverse as distinct characters old and young, while Andrew William Smith’s intense adult Matt eventually gets to let loose with a childish glee. 

In the blink of an eye, at times with just a dissonant chord marking the passage of time, the family’s fortunes ebb and flow. They are visited by tragedy and joy, love is lost and found, and through it all, Ernestine keeps making that cake, from birthday to birthday.

There are occasional mentions of the years in Ernestine’s life – 17, 49, 70 and so on – but no confusion as to where she and her family members are along their timelines, a feat of the writing and direction by Masterson, and the creative team, including scenic design by Sasha Jin Schwartz, lighting by Xuewei (Eva) Hu and sound by Darron L. West.

Lives revolve around the sturdy wood counter in the kitchen, set atop a checkerboard turntable and within an intimate thrust space. An elaborate, floor-to-ceiling backdrop pays dividends toward the end of Birthday Candles’ run time, described in the program as, “One hundred years in ninety minutes concurrently.”

Characters within their tight circle never discuss politics or news events outside; cultural shifts are suggested by changes in clothing and language. Birthday Candles doesn’t preach. Instead, it represents one Midwestern, middle-class woman and her family as they march through time, in a way familiar to audiences from boomers and all the generations that have followed.

Somewhat jarring within their 100 years are repetitions of lines that I found to be pretentious, but in truth, every family has their own idiomatic language, meaningful to only them as it moves through generations. 

Those familiar words are not unlike the making of the same cake, on every birthday for 100 years, serving as a unifying, comforting ritual, in the best and worst of times.

TICKETS AND DETAILS

Birthday Candles is on City Theatre’s Main Stage, 1300 Bingham Street, South Side, through March 30. Tickets: https://citytheatrecompany.org/play/birthday-candles/ or call 412-431-2489.

Categories: Company, Our Posts, Reviews

Tags: Birthday Candles, City Theatre, Marc Mastersn, Noah Haidle, Robin Walsh