You need seasons to mark where you are. It’s currently winter season; halfway through the darkness— halfway through season 77 at The Colonial Players of Annapolis. And they’re bringing you Other Desert Cities by Jon Robin Baitz. Directed by Laura Gayvert, this edgy, albeit questionably dated, drama hits hard with its deep questions of family dysfunction when secrets threaten to unravel pre-existing ways of life.
While the play itself isn’t wholly ‘dated’ there are references that for the younger audiences will be obscure and it certainly bears the signature of its timestamp. And although it’s only ‘Christmas 2004’ (that’s over 20 years ago) it doesn’t quite feel accurate to call it a ‘period piece.’ Set Designer Terry Averill does an immaculate job crafting the interior of the Wyeth household in Palm Springs. It’s the lattice-woodwork overhang to create the encroaching sense of ‘enclosed’ that really makes the set perfect. The décor is opulent but in that minimalist ‘we have money’ verve, making it a perfect match for the family that inhabits the space. Couple this with Lighting Designer John H. Purnell’s warm ambient interior effects and you’ve practically got aesthetic perfection. Director Laura Gayvert doubles up as the show’s costumer (there isn’t anything spectacularly of note in the show’s sartorial selection) and her pieces on the five characters fits the bill just fine. If there’s a complaint from the production team it’s that Sound Designers Steven Ney and Ken Johnson’s effusive holiday sap slides out into the lobby pre-show. The show (much like Die Hard, is set at Christmas…not an actual Christmas show…) and as we’ve all just come off of 129,000 weeks of non-stop Christmas music, hearing it in the lobby pre-show feels like a special kind of torture.
Gayvert’s pacing and overall direction seems quite sound for the production with one caveat. The actor in the role of Brooke (Kaitlin Fish) gives inconsistently metered performances compared to the other actors on stage. It’s a conundrum in attempting to determine if this was intentional and a guided choice by Gayvert or something else. Because Fish has reactive and expressive facial expressions, really intense body language, but lacks emotional expression in her textual delivery, often sounding monotone and detached, though not consistently in an intentional manner. This created a lot of really awkward dynamics on stage when the other actors were really driving home the intensity of a particular scene and their emotional intensity was not being matched. Many of Fish’s line delivers felt hollow, sounding almost like they were read for the first time. What the intention was here, whether directorial or otherwise, feels muddled and just doesn’t jive or gel with the rest of the performances on stage.
As Silda, Debbie Barber-Eaton makes splashy waves, showing up as the last to be introduced of the five players in the script. Barber-Eaton has a good handle on her comedic delivery and her sassy quips as well as her ability to exist at a slightly off-kilter tilt in perpetual progression throughout her performance. As Trip, Stephen Nickens has exacting comedic timing which he balances against this more level-headed peace-broker persona that appears at varying intervals throughout the course of the show’s action. At the top of the second act, Nickens really drives the verbal sparring-brawl between his character and the Brooke character, hitting his breaking point and lashing out superbly, whilst simultaneously bringing a cocky-defensiveness to the forefront of that moment. Both Barber-Eaton and Nickens find moments of raw emotional expression that well-serve their respective characters’ story arcs and the show’s storyline as a whole.
The moment of the show, hands down, is when Brooke drops her print copies of her new books on the Wyeth Family Home Coffee Table and Polly Wyeth (Rebecca Kyler Downs) delivers six words. “Of course it’s about your brother.” If you are fortunate enough to be seated on the side of the rectangle that Downs is facing (and I was) the look on her face stops the show, even if just for seconds. It’s that unyielding desperation of fiercely and forcibly holding back emotions, swallowing everything down to maintain that rigid, polished, plastic exterior that she’s presented with flawless consistency up to that point in her performance. A tenth of the audience will get to see this— but it’s theatrical fireworks at its finest. Downs gives the utmost every step of the way, with James Gallagher (as her husband, Lyman Wyeth) close on her heels. The pair are unstoppable theatrical forces on stage, whether they’re sharing scenes with each other, all five characters, or with Brooke. Their emotions are visceral and intensely palpable, their dynamism dominating every breath of air on the stage.
There’s this moment when a ‘soft shun’ comes from Gallagher’s Lyman, and watching the emotional decomposition melt and ooze out of his voice, over his face, and down through his body language; it’s heartbreaking. His versatility is extraordinary as he pops back in after just a quick ‘flee of scene’ with this deeply pensive and strongly reflective moment, contemplating an unfathomable plethora of emotional experiences. Without spoiling certain plot points, it can readily be said that the expressions on Gallager, both facially and in his textual delivery, near the end of the performance are harrowing and astonishing.
Downs’ Polly Wyeth is the textbook definition of right-leaning, California plastic circa the early 2000’s. Everything from the way she moves to the way she speaks to her dismissive tone and her cavalier approach to conversations she clearly does not wish to be having is exquisite. You get bursts of energy from Downs even when she’s standing still; her portrayal is richly imbued with gusto, gumption, and a ton of visceral emotions which are wound up tightly in her plastic-portrayal right until the end. When that dam breaks it’s a tsunami of an experience and one that rocks you through to your core.
The show has its laughs— particularly Silda when she pops up from the recliner smelling what she smells— and people need funny as it’s all so serious and gosh-darn horrible out there in the real world. There is intensity and depth and meaning to this script and for the most part, imbued into the production. Not a bad attempt, if an oddly timed choice, and slightly uneven in casting choices.
Running Time: 2 hours and 20 minutes with one intermission
Other Desert Cities plays through January 31st 2026 at The Colonial Players of Annapolis— 108 East Street in historic Annapolis, MD. For tickets call the box office at (410) 268-7373 or purchase them online.
