Review: "Burn This" at Road Less Traveled Theater
- Anthony Chase
- Apr 24
- 5 min read
Updated: Apr 24
By Anthony Chase
The current Road Less Traveled Theater production of Lanford Wilson's 1987 play, Burn This, inspired me to look back at my own Buffalo News review of the first Buffalo production, which took place back in 1989. I was well familiar with the play, having seen the original Broadway production just two years before, starring Joan Allen as Anna, John Malkovich as Pale, and Lou Liberatore as Larry.
Burn This explores the chaotic aftermath of a young dancer's death. Anna finds her life upended when Pale, the volatile look-alike brother of her recently deceased roommate and artistic collaborator Robbie, bursts into their loft apartment, unexpected and unannounced. Pale's resemblance to Robbie is, we're told, uncanny, but there is an important difference between them: Robbie was gay and Pale is straight. Very straight. He's also reckless, and a little scary. As Anna navigates her tepid relationship with her screenwriter boyfriend Burton and her unexpected attraction to the explosive, grief-stricken Pale, the play examines how death can paradoxically ignite passionate life and how authentic connections often arrive in the most inconvenient packages.
Back in 1989, I wrote, "Burn This is a disturbing play. The characters do things we don't want them to do, and no good deed goes unpunished." I noted that the play is about Anna, for whom dancing transcends mere career -- it's her way of life. As the play opens, she has just returned from Robbie's funeral. His family, oblivious to his homosexuality, mistook Anna for his bereaved girlfriend, an assumption she didn't correct. I wrote then, "In many ways, the funeral was her own."
For the record, that decades ago Buffalo production was directed by Nancy N. Doherty with a cast that included Adele Leas as Anna, Tom Loughlin as Pale, Richard Lambert as Larry, and Phil Knoerzer as Burton.
Memories of the original Broadway cast still resonate vividly in my mind. As Pale, Malkovich loomed as a confident, menacing presence -- a moral stalwart challenging the comparatively pampered artsy set represented by Anna and Larry. Allen's Anna projected strength beneath her conflicts, while Liberatore's Larry served as a kind of seer, offering wisecracks laced with moral clarity. Burton, as in every production I've encountered, remained the odd man out.
Seeing the current production at Road Less Traveled, I think that my decades old assessment of the play still rings true, but this fresh reinterpretation allows for some additional insights.
Anna's romantic entanglements form the play's emotional nucleus. She demonstrates an uncanny talent for involving herself with men who are either unavailable or unsuited to her needs. Her wealthy boyfriend Burton inspires little beyond boredom, while the grand passion of her life seems to be dance. The dynamic shifts dramatically when Pale crashes into her world. Though seemingly mismatched in every conceivable way, Anna and he fall irresistibly into lust. Through this turbulent connection, we begin to understand that Robbie, the gay doppelganger of heterosexual Pale, simultaneously inspired Anna and impeded her personal growth.
Even in 1989, I observed that Burn This is a psychological drama written in the style and tone of a high comedy, but the Road Less Traveled Theater production is more broadly comical than I have seen before. I found myself thinking of Noël Coward's Design for Living, with its artistic characters navigating complex romantic entanglements. In Burn This, as in Noël Coward, characters never seem to be able to generate much enthusiasm for the socially appropriate love object.
Noël Coward's 1932 comedy follows the entangled lives of a trio of artistic bohemians -- Gilda, Otto, and Leo -- as they navigate their unconventional three-way relationship. The play scandalized audiences with its frank approach to bisexuality and polyamory, as the three circle around each other, pairing off in various combinations, separating, and reuniting, while also dealing with Ernest, the conventional, wealthy art dealer who offers Gilda respectability but little passion.
Both plays feature a central female character (Anna/Gilda) torn between conventional security and passionate authenticity. Wilson, like Coward, employs wit and biting dialogue to explore bohemian artistic circles where conventional morality is challenged. Both plays acknowledge the importance and uncontrollability of sexual desire.
Director John Hurley has guided his cast toward interpretations that are striking in how each performer takes their character in unexpected directions.
At her lowest point, Leah Berst's Anna appears more thoroughly defeated than previous interpretations I've seen, making her eventual transformation all the more arresting when she finally rises from the ashes of her grief. Berst, taking on one of the great Joan Allen roles, makes effective use of speeches that are a constant source of monologue material for acting students everywhere, making them feel fresh and alive.
When we first meet Burton, the confident screenwriter, Ricky Needham presents a man who is a remarkable departure from his typical roles. In Act II, when the rug is pulled out from under Burton, we do see the return of the familiar nerdy, neurotic character we have seen Needham play many times before, but it is a fascinating exercise in contrasts. Intriguingly, it is to this outsider that the playwright hands the provocative “Burn This” monologue, explaining the title of the play, which Needham handles with clarity and import.
Kevin Craig's interpretation of Larry is notably broad, as he creates a mischievous gay imp in the mold of Nathan Lane. This proves to be consistently, adorably funny, but occasionally at the cost of the character's focus. For instance, where Liberatore in the original delivered Larry's mantra of movie clichés with pointed specificity, as if he were quoting Marlene Dietrich from some lost film noire classic, Craig lets these moments scatter undefined – entertaining but untethered. It all pulls together, however, when it counts, in the play’s final scenes, when the imp becomes a sage.
Perhaps the most startling reinvention comes from Nicholas Stevens as Pale. His blend of booze, sweat, and cologne becomes a veritable train wreck of testosterone and buffoonery – more wantonly unruly and comical than I have ever seen or would have imagined. And yet it works, becoming the glue that holds the production's disparate elements together. It's worth appreciating that The Sopranos was still 20 years away when Lanford Wilson created this character, making Pale a theatrical prototype for what would later become a recognizable television archetype. Stevens certainly taps into this mythos.
Collin Ranney's handsome set design creates a spacious loft apartment in lower Manhattan with expansive windows looking out on the city, perfectly capturing the urbane sophistication of its inhabitants, and evocatively lit by John Rickus, with projection by Katie Menke. Lise Harty's costumes effectively delineate each character's personality, from Burton's polished affluence to Pale's stylish if rumpled intensity, while also evoking the period – note Larry’s brightly colored jacket; Anna’s sense of style, and of course the kimono robe that Anna and Pale famously both wear.
This interpretation does not strive for the gravitas of other versions I've witnessed. Its strategy is to reward us with genuine heart and unexpected sweetness, a quality that achieves its height in the climactic moment when Larry orchestrates a deception to facilitate the play's surprising resolution.
In reimagining Burn This with such comedic verve and frenetic energy, Road Less Traveled reveals that beneath Wilson's psychological complexity lurks a play that, like its characters, refuses to settle into a single, comfortable identity.
The production continues at Road Less Traveled Theater, 456 Main Street, through May 18, 2025. https://www.roadlesstraveledproductions.org/
