Bite Me: “Westminster” Makes its Regional Début at the Harbor Stage Company

Some of the most interesting plays I’ve seen feature a character who never is present physically onstage but is intimated, felt, almost-perceived. That character often silently lends an air of foreboding to an otherwise ordinary situation.

That’s pretty much what happens in Westminster, Brenda Withers’ new play—with the exception of the “silent” part. Because there is nothing quiet or unobtrusive about The Dog.

Pia (Withers) and Tim (Jonathan Fielding) live in a pristine spotless suburban house with expensive floors, and their quiet weekend afternoon has been interrupted by the arrival of another couple, Krysten (Stacy Fischer) and Beau (Robert Kropf) who’ve brought them a very unexpected gift: a sizeable dog that was clearly never requested nor desired.

In the spotless living room, Beau is slumped in a chair drinking a beer, clearly apart and uninvolved; the other three are watching somewhat nervously as the dog in question runs recklessly around the back yard, disappearing from time to time into neighbors’ properties, and returning even more energized than before. The two couples see the dog; the audience never does, a clever Hound of the Baskervilles device that allows it to be both fully present… and yet apparently have nothing to do with the situation.

The couples first engage each other with some awkwardness (and no one does awkwardness as well as Fielding) over why it would ever occur to Krys and Beau to drive four and a half hours to deliver a gift that is clearly not a gift. (I’m reminded of the story of King Mahendra of Nepal, known for “gifting” enemies with an elephant—the gift could not be refused, and the new owners were bankrupted by it.) “What if we hadn’t been here?” asks a bewildered Pia. Apparently not the issue.

The conversations that ensue are still about The Dog while clearly not being about The Dog. Discussions of dog breeds, past (Tim) and current (Krys and Beau) dog ownership, and the meaning of different dogs’ names eventually give way finally to more personal long-dormant issues between the two women, who have known each other since college. Krys sees herself as a free spirit, while Pia sees her as irresponsible (and they both have witty and clever dialogue through which to express these opinions), and throughout it all Tim tries valiantly to reconcile everyone, as though he could somehow still salvage a social gathering out of this disaster. “I know we’re saying the same words,” he says, a little plaintively, “but I don’t think we mean the same thing.”

Beau, something of a suburban wannabee Hunter Thompson in a Hawaiian shirt and grungy jeans, seems laid-back (“this is not good energy,” he opines at one point), but when he’s outside checking on The Dog we learn in fairly rapid succession that he and Krys haven’t been together all that long, that he in fact breeds dogs for fighting, and that he may be a domestic abuser.

The emotional temperature inside the room continues to rise and is heightened by the increasingly violent non-presence of The Dog, who begins snarling and snapping outside, throwing itself against the door and eventually becoming menacing enough that it’s clear the characters are completely trapped—physically, mentally, emotionally.

Since all four actors are the founding members and principals of the Harbor Stage Company, it’s probable that Withers wrote the play with them in mind; the fit is that perfect. Fischer is wonderfully unstable, moving effortlessly from whining to lecturing and back again. Fielding has a presence that manages to be both awkward and terrified. Kropf pulls off the bad-boy-without-a-cause with the kind of laconic indifference at which he always excels. And Withers gives depth and empathy to what happens when strong emotions have been ignored or denied for too long.

Scenic designer Justin Lahue and lighting designer John Malinowski, along with production stage manager Alison Fischer Greene, all deserve kudos for this set and what can be done with it—and I’ll leave it at that; audiences deserve to be surprised.

Westminster caps a stellar season at the Harbor Stage Company. This production isn’t just excellent, it does something that goes beyond the stage, diving deep into what priorities we create in our lives and whether those priorities can accommodate the people we used to be—and those who knew us then. How do we handle the dangers inherent in emotional honesty? Can any of us survive it?

I always want to fall in love with the plays I attend, and I’m head-over-heels for this one. There are echoes of Ionesco and a definite absurdist flavor to The Dog as both symbol and manifestation, some thoughtful characterizations, and a few surprises along the way. Go see it!

Review by Jeannette de Beauvoir

Photos by Joe Kenehan and Edward Boches

Westminster at Harbor Stage Company, harborstage.org

August 8-September 1, 2024