Sometimes a Great Notion is a book that’s near and dear to
the hearts of many a Pacific Northwesterner (read it, if you haven’t),
and hopes are high for Portland Center Stage’s production. A locally
developed show, cast with a decent number of local actors (though none
of the leads, it must be noted), based on one of the best books about
the Northwest ever written—it’s an exciting proposition,
especially given the resources at Portland Center Stage’s disposal; and
a challenging one, given the novel’s density and narrative complexity,
and the crucial role played by its distinctive setting.
Ken Kesey’s novel superimposes the strained relationship between two
brothers, Hank and Leland Stamper, over the story of a small
loggingcommunity in the midst of a strike. The Stampers are the only
family in town who aren’t participating in the strike—they are
continuing to log while the rest of the townspeople are out of
work—and the book pits their dogged individualism against the
needs of the greater community. Hank and Leland represent another set
of poles: Big brother Hank’s easy physicality and unstudied confidence
are at odds with self-conscious, resentful Leland, a squirrelly East
Coast intellectual played here by Karl Miller as something like
Sideshow Bob trapped in Topher Grace’s body. Leland has ostensibly come
to Oregon to help Hank turn trees into lumber—his real reason,
though, is to take revenge on the older brother who has always
overshadowed him, so Leland sets his sights on Hank’s wife, Vivian
(played by a disappointingly conventional Sarah Grace Wilson).
The story skips from locale to locale—from the Stamper house,
perched precariously on the bank of the Wakonda River, to the forest
where the men work, to a bar where the locals gather. Wisely, despite
the scene changes, Tony Cisek’s set is largely static, a versatile,
beautifully layered thing, with mottled blue-green planks jutting up
into the rafters as sunlight (so to speak) trickles down.
The show’s only real fault is that director Aaron Posner (who also
adapted the novel) plays the coquette more often than he should.
Sometimes should be many things, but it should not be
cute—yet this serious-minded show about jealousy, fatal
stubbornness, and a town whose very livelihood is at stake can’t resist
batting its eyes at the audience now and then. (At one point, the show
paused so that the audience could applaud a line about how much it
rains in Oregon. Really, Portland audiences? That’s what makes you
spontaneously applaud? A precipitation joke?) It’s a minor
complaint, though, in what is otherwise an intelligently conceived and
gorgeously executed production.