The Postman Always Rings Twice is a terrific play, as shown by the fact that it has been adapted to two different American movies, five foreign language films, an opera, a radio play, and three different stage versions, of which the version presented by the San Jose Stage in 2018 is the most recent. And it started in 1934 as a popular novel by James M. Cain, who specialized in crime novels.
Plot developments come so rapidly and unpredictably that my attention was riveted to the action by curiosity to see what would happen next. The reason the plot is so unpredictable is that the protagonists lack moral compass; they are lacking in both principles and intentions. Cora is the familiar waitress, frustrated in her dead-end job, and sick of her husband, Nick, the Greek, who owns the restaurant. Frank is a drifter, unwilling to make any sort of commitment, following his whims. Nick is the only one showing any humanity, but he is gullible and out of touch with reality.
The script is not poetic; the lines don't really have beauty, or pearls of wisdom, or insight into psychology; basically they just advance the complicated plot, but you keep listening in order to figure out who's conning who and how it all works out. Of course, Frank and Cora fall into lust; of course, they begin to think about bumping off poor Nick, the fat and greasy Greek. But their first attempt fails, and they come very close to being caught by the cop on the beat. The second attempt succeeds, and after a lot of puzzling machination, a lawyer manages to get them off. Not only that but he gets them a large payout from the insurance companies, of which he takes a major chunk.
And so the play might unexpectedly come to a happy ending for the bumbling murderers, except that Cora has sort of awakened and come to think like an adult. She feels guilty about their crime, and wants to make something of the rest of her life. Having a little money brings out the latent business person in her, and this makes her invulnerable to Frank's advances. Frank, on the other hand, shows no growth at all, and longs to resume his life of aimless wandering, with her company and at her expense.
Cora's dreams are foiled when Kennedy, an assistant to the clever lawyer who got them off, comes back later to blackmail them; in fact, to wipe them out. This time pure brutality saves them as Frank beats Kennedy up and forces him to give them the file with his evidence.
And so it appears our criminal couple once again comes out ahead, but then they have a driving accident in which Cora is killed. Frank is left untethered, the way he started, the victim of ironic fate.
Unusually for a play, there's is plenty of on-stage sex and violence. Frank and Cora simulate sex on stage a couple of times, and Frank gets into several punch-ups in addition to the murder. These are not the kind of people who express themselves in words; it's all about actions and consequences.
The acting in this performance by The Stage was spot on. Cora was played by a slender blond actress named Allison F. Rich, who looks good in her underwear and uses her body as expressively as a dancer. The actor who played Frank, Jonathan Rhys Williams, is a little too old to project the animal magnetism of Frank the drifter (in one of the movie versions, the part was played by the young Jack Nicholson), but he inhabits the role convincingly, and handles the action scenes with aplomb.
I was surprised to learn, after the play, that Robert Sicular played both Nick the Greek and Katz the wiley lawyer, and the coroner as well. His portrayal of Nick was so convincing that I was sure he could never pass as any other character. Likewise, Kennedy, one of the operatives in the investigation, was like a reincarnation of Jimmy Durante, yet the actor who portrayed him, Michael Bellino, also played a suspicious young beat cop.
The set design was limited by the small size of the theater, and perhaps the theater's budget as well. The set was basically a blank, dark space lined with a backdrop of strips that allowed hands to bring limited props on and off stage, such as chairs, a table, a hospital gurney, etc. This minimal approach worked very well because it kept your mind focused on the plot and because it conveyed the murky world of amorality that leads to crime.
Spoiler alert: the play has neither a postman nor a doorbell. Therefore, the title should be taken metaphorically, as in "what goes around, comes around" or "you can't escape destiny."
Local theater is like a hidden treasure. It's remarkable what talented actors perform in a small venues like San Jose Stage or City Lights; you would think they would be big stars. Plus, a small theater—100 seats more or less—gives you a very intimate look at the production. Sitting in the second row, we could see the actors at the distance you see people in real life. Another advantage of a small theater is that with innovative stage design, a theater company can afford to keep alive the classics. Even though the play is dark, the quality of this production brought me to tears.
