By the end of A Man of No Importance, Alfie Byrne has been transformed, but it’s not by the theatricals he has devotedly directed in his Dublin church hall. It is, rather, by opening himself to reality that Alfie is changed.
Jim Parsons as Alfie and Mare Winningham as his older, unmarried sister, Lily, head an excellent cast of 13, some of whom also play musical instruments, in director John Doyle’s revival of the 2002 musical, which I saw and loved at the Mitzi Newhouse Theatre. The theatrical gifts of Terrance McNally (book), Stephen Flaherty (music) and Lynn Ahrens (lyrics), who collaborated so beautifully on the 1998 Broadway musical version of Ragtime, are the holy trinity behind this musical, which is based on a 1994 movie of the same name starring Albert Finney. It’s running at CSC through Dec. 4.
Set in 1964, A Man of No Importance tells the story of Alfie, a middle-aged bus conductor and closeted homosexual who is devoted to Oscar Wilde. He lives a quiet life with Lily, getting his great pleasure directing an amateur theatre group, the St. Imelda Players. His controlled life is shaken, however, after he gets into trouble with church authorities when he plans to stage Wilde’s risqué play Salome, complete with the seductive dance of the seven veils.
Alfie’s love for Wilde isn’t limited to the plays he directs. He also reads Wilde’s poetry to his passengers, brightening their dreary, often rainy, mornings. In the opening number, “A Man of No Importance,” they sing of the “poetry and art in the air” as, thanks to Alfie, “the bus becomes something more than a bus” and “a day is something more than a day.” A.J. Shively, his co-worker, Robbie, does a nice job as the bus driver with whom Alfie is secretly in love.
Doyle, who is also the scenic designer, creates this world using only wooden folding chairs, which are then turned around to circle a table in the back to create the rehearsal hall. The original production also had a simple setting, which is perfect for the tenderness of this show. I felt I was on the bus or with the St. Imelda’s Players and their let’s-put-on-a-play enthusiasm. The humor of the lyrics and the uplifting lilt in the music add to the fun.
Church members are also lifted out of their world in what Alfie calls “losing yourself in someone else.” The butcher, Mr. Carney (Thom Sesma), can’t wait to get back onstage, hoping to reprise his role as Algernon in The Importance of Being Earnest. Other church hall thespians join him in “Going Up,” a number in which they envision themselves as acclaimed performers.
Carney is disappointed to learn the group will be doing a play he’s never heard of, Salome, but is appeased when he leans one of the characters is John the Baptiser, whom he considers “the first Roman Catholic priest, practically.”
The late Charles Keating played this role in the original with a nice dash of camp, soap star that he was. He played the villainous Carl Hutchins on “Another World” for many years. Sesma’s approach is more straightforward. He has a rich singing voice, which I don’t remember from Keating, but I was a huge fan of Keating and “Another World” so I loved every minute of his interpretation. The original production also featured Roger Rees as Alfie and Faith Prince as Lily.
Carney isn’t appeased for long. After reading the play he is appalled and calls a special Sodality meeting, resulting in its cancellation. Even before this, though, Alfie has been questioning his life. In “Man in the Mirror,” he wonders “Why should someone care for you when you care so little for yourself?” and he sees “the dead eyes of a man who doesn’t know who he is.” He conjures up Wilde (Sesma) for a personal conversation, asking him, “Who is this man with the thickening body riding his bus till his dying days?”
His awakening causes him to advise his play’s Salome (Shereen Ahmed), who is pregnant by a man who doesn’t love her, not to hold back, singing, “You just have to love who you love.”
But when Alfie decides to follow this advice, encouraged by Wilde who tells him, “the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it,” he makes an advance on a young man and gets beaten up. Only then does he begin to find a life that balances art and reality.
In the closing song, “Welcome to the World,” Alfie sings of having watched the world roll past for too long. “Life is clearly something that I can’t rehearse. . . I am in the world and that should be enough and that’s all I have to say.” And that’s all he needs to say. He doesn’t have to be a man of importance. He’s a man who knows who he is, and that, indeed, is enough.
