Family matters

James Heatherly and Brian Patacca in Dean Gray’s “Uncle,” presented by Blue Heron Theatre through March 4.

Family matters

Seeking the truth about a dead uncle, a misfit finds himself

By David Kennerley

Have you ever stumbled across an old family photograph and wondered, “Who were these people and are they a part of me?”

Well, apparently Dean Gray has, and the notion intrigued him so much he wrote a play about it, called “Uncle,” an intricate meditation on frayed family ties, inspired by real-life events. The trick is, of course, to translate such a highly personal fascination into compelling theater for all, not just his mom and Aunt Esther. Did he and the rest of the creative team pull it off?
Amazingly, despite a few missteps, the answer is yes.

This sweetly affecting drama, presented by Blue Heron Theatre, recounts the secret life, and untimely death, of Irvin (Darren Lougée) a gay chorale singer, as explored by his nephew, Brent (Brian Patacca), a loner who fears stumbling down the same rocky path.

The 32-year old Brent not only physically resembles his hunk of an uncle, he also shares his passion for escapism, music, and men. And his dark moods. Despite being a budding composer and concert pianist, Brent is mired in slagheap of familial detritus, alone in his New York City apartment, far from his Wisconsin home.

When the hardened, former farm boy meets Sean (James Heatherly), a reference librarian who is instantly smitten with him, his protective coating begins to erode.

As the action shifts between 1995 and 1963, the uncanny parallel between uncle and nephew becomes clear. Brent’s mother, Iris (Nancy McDoniel), would rather talk about the weather and cheese and babies than acknowledge his career choice or sexuality. Years ago, she was similarly cool toward her brother, Irvin, and his friend, nicknamed Tone (also played by Heatherly), who was clearly much more than a friend.

When Brent discovers the photo of the two young men, taken when he was a baby, he aches to find out how much his present is linked to his past. Despite never meeting, they turn out to be kindred spirits, literally.

Under the inventive direction of Wayne Maugans, the play’s flashback structure sustains our fascination through otherwise mundane moments. The intercutting and overlapping of scenes ramps up the energy, and when the ghost of Irvin lurks beside Brent at key moments, it deepens their connection, and ours.

The characterizations are especially fine. The blossoming romance between Brent and Sean feels real, and well-earned. Although the pushy Sean is initially annoying (after their first date, he refers to his dog as “our dog”), we find ourselves succumbing to his charms right along with Brent.

Though McDoniel sometimes has trouble delineating young Iris the sister from older Iris the mother, she shines during the final showdown. And she tosses off lines like, “The men folks are about done with the corn,” with aplomb. You may recognize her as a cabin attendant from the film “Flight 93.”

As the wizened, elderly Tone, veteran actor Richard Bowden is wistful without being maudlin.

But it’s really Patacca, with his sad-sack eyes and slumped stance, who truly mesmerizes. When you look like Jake Gyllenhaal’s brother, it’s not always easy to elicit sympathy, but through his soulful, restrained performance, we do feel his anguish—and his resolve.

There are weak spots. To be sure, some of the ambitious staging is a bit clunky and the limitations of a tight budget are evident.
In choosing to keep the time period true to life (like Brent, the playwright was born in the early 1960’s) instead of updating to the present, the play feels, well…dated. Employing squawking phone machine messages to convey plot twists is hackneyed (can you say “Rent?”) yet not quite quaint enough to be nostalgic.

And many of the traumatic coming-out questions it raises — “Is being gay just a phase? Is it a choice? Is it a sin? Is home where I grew up or where I am now?” — while still relevant in many circles, are less poignant today than they were in the mid-’90s. It’s as if Gray penned this little gem over a decade ago and just got around to producing it now.

But thankfully, “Uncle” is infinitely more than a coming-out saga. It’s about the rancor simmering just below the surface in families pretending nothing’s wrong. It’s about fear of disclosure and about missed chances for a true connection. Sure, you can turn your back on family, but you can’t fully escape their power. And why should you?

More than anything, what pervades is a warmly plaintive, yet optimistic spirit. Not only does Brent find himself in that photo, but if we squint just a little, we can see ourselves in there as well.