Two storms hit the small town of Dublin, Missouri, in Lanford Wilson’s realistically written but stylistically staged Book of Days. One storm is a tornado during which the head of the town’s cheese plant, its economic center, is killed. The other is occurs when its plant bookkeeper, emboldened by her lead in Shaw’s drama about Joan of Arc, begins a search for what she’s convinced is the businessman’s murder and conspiracy behind it. Wilson’s play starts as a narrative record as if from a medieval book that recorded important happenings. Narrators mostly form a chorus speaking or singing from three bleachers. They’re set against a town-defining telephone wire stretched across two telephone poles, framed on two sides by a cluster of tree leaves. The filmed background also chronicles changes in weather and mood. Now and then, one or two narrators take center stage to describe themselves, their situation, their motivations. But the center mainly contains events in the drama and the main characters who affect them. A wealth of secrets come forth throughout. Wilson’s arrangement and plotting typify his penetrating dramatic talents and inspire director Greg Leaming’s careful handling of activity when exposition goes on too long. Since actor training is FSU/Asolo Conservatory’s reason for being, it’s good to see a play that involves and makes demands on many actors. Lemming should be proud of how his students perform in it. They also handle the mostly church music well. Wes Tolman as the town’s “big cheese” conveys his goal to do financially well but tempered by an interest in being reputed to make a good product. He dies in a supposed accident during Dublin’s tornado. That’s not long after he agrees to let his able plant manager, Nolan Fizgerald Hennelly’s idealistic Len Hoch, spend efforts and mainly time to develop two quality cheeses instead of going for immediate sales of all to Kraft. As Wes and wife Sharon (Mary Ellen Everett, compliant and weak in the face of change) anticipate one of their usual vacations away, Dustin Babin, on the mark as their indulgent son James, has only immediately financial use for the plant. He wants to dump his religious and sexually frustrated wife LouAnn (effective Colleen Lafeber) for a mistress who may be pregnant. To Dublin’s community theater comes likeable Andrew Bosworth as Boyd Middleton, a seemingly prominent stage director. (He’s been down since revelation -- still a secret here -- of past accusations of being a sexual predator.) He auditions Len Hoch’s wife Ruth and, excited, immediately casts her as Shaw’s St. Joan. Like this crusader, Amy Helms vigorously pursues truth and justice as Ruth, with unfaltering energy. My only quarrel is that she’s actually weak in her tryout as Shakespeare’s Juliet, and it’s a good thing Ruth doesn’t need to handle poetry later. Amber Lageman plays plucky going after Boyd as sexy Ginger Reed . Kedren Spencer is nicely attuned to the inner dignity of Martha Hoch. The Community College dean’s secret is having been a hippie, even taking part in Woodstock. What would Christopher Carson’s rightly repressive Sheriff Atkins make of that? Secrets also swamp Earl Hill, a Bates employee well handled by Anthony J. Hamilton. Because using religion, allied to legal repression, as means to limit inquiry and free speech drives the play thematically, Reverend Bobby Groves occupies a central position. Aleksandr Krapivkin authentically conveys Reverend Bobby Groves’ concern for James, his friend since childhood, and ability to believe and protect him despite what should be Groves’ duty. His evangelistic fervor, concentrating on condemnation (in his case, not of those who should be called out) and God’s punishment, harks back to medieval religious excesses. The technical crew admirably supports the look and work of the actors. Despite some prolonged preachiness and lapses into melodrama, Book of Days is refreshingly literate. It contains ideas worth pondering, especially those suggesting parallels between a past era and today.
