Review by Ron Fassler . . .
I must admit that the genre of an actor’s confessional, one-person show is not among my favorites. Although I’ve seen some that were excellent, in my vast experience far more have fallen flat. I say this with no offense intended—not everyone’s life is stage-worthy.
But when an actor has a worthwhile story to tell, excels at characterization, and possesses a voice made for the theatre, they are far ahead of the game. Such is the case with journeyman actor Ned Van Zandt and his remarkable play Lost in Del Valle, which concludes its limited engagement at the SoHo Playhouse on October 16. I urge anyone who reads this to buy a ticket and experience live theatre at its most seductive. Not only is Van Zandt acting full out with his heart, but he’s also got the writing chops to go along with it.
Just like any other guy in Hollywood trying to make it in show business back in the mid-to-late 1970s, Van Zandt was picking up a small part here and a small part there. His biggest claim to fame was appearing with Jane Fonda in 1978’s Coming Home, so that was something. He tried New York and didn’t get terribly far there, but he did wind up living in the Chelsea Hotel during its heyday as a drug-fueled hangout for rockers. While there, Van Zandt did his mighty best to keep up by becoming a heroin addict. Not only did he get to know two of its most infamous tenants—Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen—but he was with them the night Nancy died under mysterious circumstances. What Van Zandt reveals about that sordid tale is both riveting and revelatory.
When his career hit a whole lot more than a rough patch, he headed home to Texas, where he was born and raised. There, he was met with a stone wall of resistance from a family who wanted nothing to do with him while he was still in the throes of drug addiction. During this time, Van Zandt was arrested and convicted of possession of illegal narcotics with the intent to sell and was sent to the Travis County Correctional Complex, located in Del Valle, outside of Austin. The recounting of his experiences there takes the story into unfamiliar territory guaranteed to defy audience expectations. Among the perfectly calibrated depictions of close to 20 characters he brings to life are Jesus, his Mexican American cellmate whose prized possession is his transistor radio; Jimmie, a wormy fellow inmate who is bi-polar and, most vividly, Donnie, a Junior Grand Dragon of the Texas Aryan Brotherhood described by Van Zandt as “strawberry blonde, shirtless, whitest body I’ve ever seen, covered with tattoos—crude crosses, swastikas everywhere… he’s fucking gorgeous.”
Upon learning Van Zandt is an actor, and quickly intuiting that he is also gay, Donnie offers his protection in exchange for acting lessons (and some sex). “I want to be on TV! Teach me how to act!,” Donnie demands. Watching Van Zandt play himself and Donnie while they perform an unlikely acting improv together is one of the evening’s most indelible scenes.
Yes, we’ve seen stories like this before. But what sets Lost in Del Valle apart is Van Zandt’s uncanny ability to craft his memories as if they had been filmed and we are watching them played back for us. He can instantly pull you in and make it possible to intimately share in the conversation with whomever he is speaking. It is uncommonly easy to visualize the people he creates, none more so than Belinda, a fading beauty and fellow drug addict who plays an important role in Van Zandt’s roller coaster ride of a life.
Director Amir Arison, an actor in his own right, does a lovely job in making the play believable at every crazy turn and guides Van Zandt through a beautifully paced performance (at sixty-five minutes, what’s packed in here is enough for two shows). And mention must be made of the exquisite use of guitarist Mike Moore, who punctuates throughout with musical commentary.
On a bare bone set, Lost in Del Valle remains the simple Edinburgh Festival Fringe production it started out as over a year ago: a taut and insightful look at one man’s journey to a peaceful existence. And yes, it is certainly a one-man show that is stage worthy; one that reveals how a shot at redemption can sometimes lead to an unexpected harmony with the universe. Let’s hope it returns soon so more people will have the opportunity to see it.
Lost in Del Valle is at the SoHo Playhouse, 15 Van Dam Street, NYC through October 16. For further information, please click here.
Photos by Lucas Noonan.
Headline photo: Ned Van Zandt in Lost in Del Valle.
