It never really became apparent to me how influential N. Richard Nash's 1954 The Rainmaker, was until watching WPIX recently where I suffered through "Three Men And A Little Lady" and noticed that Tom Selleck and Nancy Travis rehearse a scene from the play early in the picture. It is meant to parallel the Selleck-Travis budding romance, but when watching Scott Ellis' newest incarnation currently on Broadway, one finds it is just better to stick with the original source. Uneven in intervals but consistently winning, The Rainmaker is a complete rarity on stage these days: a genuinely old-fashioned romantic play. Most of the time we get this type of wistful concoction only in musical offerings, where the principals usually die or lead tortured lives, all for the sake of true love.
Our evening's heroine, Lizzie Curry (Jayne Atkinson), a self-proclaimed "plain" girl, she's slowly coming to grips with the fact that she may end up a lonely, unfulfilled woman. She resides with her stern but generously loving father H.C. (Jerry Hardin), her hard-driving, sensible brother Noah (John Bedford Lloyd) and wild-eyed, hyperactive brother Jim (David Aaron Baker), all of whom are suffering a heat wave that doesn't seem to be subsiding. The torturous heat is an obvious metaphor for Lizzie's static existence; she wants her spell to break too, and the arrival of Bill Starbuck (Woody Harrelson), a huckster "salesman" who promises to bring their sleepy little town rain for a fee, proves to be most fateful. At first truly dismissive of Starbuck despite his magnetic appeal, Lizzie lets him run his course. She is equally unnerved and drawn to this mysterious drifter.
The play, if you're unfamiliar with it, is pure fairy tale, with Lizzie the reluctant Cinderella and Starbuck the shyster Prince Charming. Ellis' staging is crisp and competent, though his reliance on certain devices, such as Louis Rosen's guitar score, seems out of touch with the play's humble roots. Refreshingly, though, Ellis uses moments of quiet and dignity to flesh out the play's romantic tones, unusual for a big Broadway production. The second act, by far the stronger of the two, finds its footing in its simplicity and creates a real sense of intimate romantic yearning.
Harrelson is one of the big screen's most magnetic performers; his built-in charisma and cartoon features help immeasurably toward creating indelible screen portrayals (Larry Flynt in "The People vs. Larry Flynt," Mickey Knox in "Natural Born Killers"). However, the crucial introduction of Starbuck late in the first act proves less exciting than it should be. Harrelson works up a storm, but in these early scenes fails to find the enigmatic spark plug that ignites Starbuck. He never seems quite bold enough; therefore, we don't share the other characters' adoration or discontent with him. Thankfully, his star luster brightens the second act, where woos the lovelorn Lizzie. Atkinson is the greatest object of affection anyone could hope for, and her deft, skilled portrayal gives Harrelson much to work with. Atkinson makes the wise choice to play Lizzie as a frightened but spirited soul, rather than a frumpy sad sack. She finds the lustful woman inside Lizzie, and she and Harrelson's scenes in Act 2 ring with absolute truth and find an ethereal and lovely note.
The supporting cast is solid as well, especially Randle Mell, who plays the local deputy who may or may not pine for Lizzie, despite his gruff exterior. It's a small role, but Mell gives it a world of depth and at times gives it the kind of mellow urgency that Harrelson lacks in his early scenes.
The Rainmaker may be a diversion, but it's an honest and sweet one. I'm not certain if one could really call Nash's play an enduring classic, it's almost too modest for that, but there's no denying its charming ardor in an age of rampant cynicism, an enviable feat these days on stage or off.
