Two Rooms at Olympia Little Theatre


by Alec Clayton

Originally published in The News Tribune (Tacoma), June 24, 2005. 

Olympia Little Theatre vice president Michael Christopher warned the audience on opening night of “Two Rooms” that OLT always does something a little edgy and chancy for their last play of the season.

Written by Tony Award and Pulitzer Prize nominee Lee Blessing, “Two Rooms” is a bleak play about an American hostage being held by Arab terrorists, and about his wife back home in America. The OLT production is directed by Christopher, who was also the set designer and who also helped with scenic painting, lighting and sound.

The two rooms of the title are the bare and windowless cubical in Beirut where the American, Michael (Tom Sanders) is being held and Michael’s home office back in the United States, which his wife Lanie (Erika Fiebig) has stripped bare of all furniture as a way of symbolically making it into the cubical where he is being held.

Christopher’s sparse set is a runway painted a deep blue with white markings to indicate two doors and a window, the same space standing for each of the two rooms. The backdrop is a blank canvas upon which are projected slides of war scenes and of actual hostages, some of which are familiar from recent newscasts. The only props are a single floor mat and a folding chair that is brought onstage from time to time.

Michael and Lanie engage in imaginary conversations with one another and mentally write letters that can never be mailed. The only other characters are Walker (Sean G. Schroeder), a reporter, and Ellen (Marci Ballew), a State Department official. Walker befriends Lanie as he persistently coaxes her into granting him an exclusive interview. Ellen tries in her officious way to justify to Lanie the government’s inaction. Walker at first projects a sincere concern for Lanie and anger at the government for its calculated ineptitude and ineptness, but it soon becomes apparent that all he really cares about is getting his exclusive story. Ellen appears coolly detached and efficient as she tries to placate Lanie, but underneath her aura of cool professionalism beats an icy cold heart. Lanie is constantly buffeted by Walker and Ellen as she desperately clings to hope that Michael will someday be set free.

Sanders plays the hostage Michael with quiet dignity and strength, seldom giving expression to his anger at his captors. Throughout the play he is handcuffed, and through most of it he is blindfolded. His movements are restricted to sitting and lying on the floor mat and pacing around the room. Through the simplest of movements, and without the benefit of the audience being able to see his eyes, Sanders expresses Michael’s patience and intelligence, and when the blindfold finally comes off (when he, in his imagination, gets to touch his wife) his eyes tell of his tender love for her.

Schroeder plays the manipulative Walker with restraint. Even when expressing his anger at the government bureaucracy his passion is held back. His words are much more passionate than his expression. It was a little too obvious that Schroeder was acting. When Walker railed against the government, I didn’t get the impression that he really believed what he was saying. Was he putting on an act for Lanie’s sake, or did the actor fail to be convincing?

Ballew’s interpretation of Ellen’s self-discipline was faultless. She wrapped her bureaucratic obfuscation in smarmy false sincerity.

Fiebig is mesmerizing as Lanie. Her pain and fear and confusion is expressed in the way she holds her open hands by her side and the nervous way she shuffles her feet. She is a coil of contained energy ready to explode, and when she does explode – which, believe me, she does – it is like witnessing a human nuclear meltdown.

First produced in 1988, the hostage situation dealt with in “Two Rooms” happened before 9/11 and even before the first war with Iraq, yet the relevance to current world events rings true today.

It is a harsh and tragic play definitely intended for mature adult audiences.   


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© 2005 by Alec Clayton