'Taj Mahal' and 'Mariela': The Drama of Desolate Places

Catch the two top-drawer theater productions at the inaugural Mason Festival of the Arts and you might swear off rural vacations. That's because Paul D'Andrea's suspenseful love-and-crime tale, "Two-Bit Taj Mahal," and Karen Zacarías's art-themed drama, "Mariela in the Desert," portray rustic locales as petri dishes for desperation and violence.

The plays are the work of Theater of the First Amendment, which has been on hiatus for two years for space and budget reasons. It has recruited a roster of blue-ribbon actors, directors and designers, and the investment pays off -- particularly in the case of D'Andrea's play.

"Taj Mahal," in a world premiere here, is a ripping yarn, based on an unsolved FBI case, that shimmers with the enigmatic grandeur of a fairy tale.

The play's unsettling reality envelops you as soon as you enter the venue: James Kronzer's surreal set -- with its prairie grass framed by vertical train tracks and junk-filled girders (beams enclosing chairs, shutters and farming paraphernalia) -- speaks of Middle America gripped by decay. Windows suspended in air, as if embedded in vanishing walls, underscore the vulnerability of the characters.

These are the residents of an isolated Missouri community plagued by creepy incidents of vandalism and gunfire. The locals suspect a loner named Clay Bayliss (Whalen J. Laurence), but as they ponder retribution, a mysterious beauty, Sally Faye Redmond (a luminous Meredith Autry), turns up, adding fuel to the smoldering local dynamic.

Sensitively directed by Heather McDonald and terrifically acted, "Taj Mahal" dances between thriller-variety tension and naturalism ghosted with quirkiness.

Some scenes strain credulity: A meeting between Clay and Sally Faye takes jaw-dropping twists; and for some reason, no one in the preyed-upon town seems to have heard of fingerprints. Still, the performances and D'Andrea's dialogue are so compelling that you're inclined to go along for the ride. Laurence hits just the right notes as the surly yet vulnerable Clay, and Maura McGinn is affectingly nervy as Francine, a bitter farmer. Michael Willis manages to be marvelously expressive as Orus, a mousy collector of vintage machinery. And among other sterling elements, Kevin Dunayer's sound design helps bring a menacing Missouri to life.

"Mariela in the Desert," too, is beautifully staged, although its claustrophobic domestic setting, glowering psychological conflicts and strategically vectored Important Themes -- ambition, jealousy, self-determination, art -- make it less of an entertainment than "Taj Mahal."

First produced in Chicago in 2005, "Mariela" conjures the angst-ridden world of two fictional Mexican painters, Mariela and José Salvatierra (Valerie Leonard and Timmy Ray James). Mariela and José are contemporaries of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo who relocate to a desert ranch, the better to focus on creativity. Big mistake. As the years go by, the couple's inspiration and friends abandon them, and their secluded lifestyle furnishes endless opportunity for recrimination. When Gore Vidal quipped, "Every time a friend succeeds, I die a little," he might have been speaking for these two.

Elegantly staged by Nick Olcott, "Mariela" features brooding tableaux (a nice match for the nervy string sounds in Matthew M. Nielson's music) and moments of explosive energy -- as when a scorpion terrorizes the household, or an angry speech airs a decades-old resentment.

With ramrod-straight posture and steely reserve, Leonard brings her portrait of Mariela right up to the brink of the mannered. This heroine is both self-destructive -- willfully numbing herself to her own choices -- and a victim of her times. James turns in a tour de force, tracing José's decline from a gleeful, cognac-bottle-kissing alpha male to a mean invalid who can make a sponge bath seem like World War III.

The show also features Jennifer L. Nelson as José's old-fashioned sister, Oliva; and a persuasive Michael Kramer as an art history professor who despises Jackson Pollock.

Giving a bleak, mythic and sometimes sacramental cast to the characters' turmoil is Anne Gibson's set, with its stark stucco wall and crown-of-candles chandelier. Colin K. Bills's lighting, too, underscores the play's themes in painterly fashion, now isolating characters in pools of light; now flushing the stage in wilderness-dawn pastels; now coaxing a churchlike atmosphere from candlelight.

The spiritual resonances are apt enough: Mariela is not the first mortal to battle temptation in a desert.

Two-Bit Taj Mahal, by Paul D'Andrea. Directed by Heather McDonald; lighting, Martha Mountain; costumes, Howard Vincent Kurtz; stage combat and movement, Ken Elston. With Bob Rogerson. About two hours. At TheaterSpace.

Mariela in the Desert, by Karen Zacarías. Directed by Nick Olcott; costumes, Kathleen Geldard. With Ryan Christie and Michael Vitaly Sazonov. About two hours. At Harris Theater.

Through Sunday at the Fairfax campus of George Mason University, 4400 University Dr. For more information, visit http://www.gmu.edu/cfa. For tickets call 888-945-2468 or visit http://www.tickets.com.