Review: The Wind and the Rain Brings Site-Specific Theater to Its Fullest Potential

The Wind and the Rain, an excellent example of site-specific theater, recounts not just the catastrophic events surrounding Hurricane Sandy in 2012, but also the history of a beloved bar situated just a block from the waterfront in Redhook, Brooklyn.

Presented at the Brooklyn Waterfront Museum by En Garde Arts and the Vineyard Theatre, Sarah Gancher’s play dramatizes the long-maintained familial ownership of Sunny’s, which survived not only the historic storm, but also Prohibition, a pandemic, and everything in between. Gancher draws inspiration from real interviews and research, adding a touch of fiction.

The bar’s current owner, Tone (Jen Tullock), is at the center of the story, along with her husband, Sunny (Pete Simpson). The ensemble of four actors, who alternate roles, ask the audience a series of questions: Has anyone in the crowd been to Sunny’s bar before? At the performance I attended, about 10 hands were raised. Was anyone a current or former bartender at the establishment? Three hands were raised. The actors then announced that live music would be played by musicians who frequent Sunny’s Bar. This introductory scene creates the atmosphere of a community gathering, and not in the forced way that some immersive theater can be.

The play alternates between memories of the bar’s original owners and Tone as she falls in love with Sunny. Sunny comes to love the community he has fostered in the bar, but as he succumbs to toxic familial cycles and loses his will to fight for the bar after Sandy hits, Tone bears it all.

Simpson plays Sunny with irresistible charm. It’s a necessary facade as the conflict unfolds and Sunny’s behavior becomes difficult to reckon with, but by the end, the crowd is reminded that even Tone could not help but adore him for the way he touched the lives of others.

Marcelo Martínez Garcia’s scenic design makes the most of the space, adorning the wooden walls with family photos, lighting fixtures, and lifesavers hanging by windows. Amith Chandrashaker’s clever lighting design conjures warm, romantic evenings and the stormy flashes of Sandy. At the performance I attended, the natural light from outside cast glimmering reflections of the bay and created a natural backdrop.

Jared Mezzocchi’s direction is as tight as the enclosed room is but the ensemble of actors never miss a beat, even when they are shuffling large wooden set pieces across the slightly swaying floor or prompting audience members to participate. At some points, a shoe (in lieu of a “talking stick”) is passed around, each person taking a turn in a series of lines, but at other times, patrons are brought into the center of the round. Their contributions play a large role, and the ensemble made every beat feel natural, even when delivered by the most hesitant of patrons.

The writing begins to lose some momentum toward the end. Once Sunny and Tone’s story has closed, the narrative continues as the audience is guided out onto the pier, down the street, and right up to Sunny’s bar, where sentiments are shared about the meaning of time and existence and how the ground we stand on will someday be full of our great-grandchildren’s graves.

It feels a little spiritually shoehorned, as though we need to make a bigger picture out of this small snapshot of one Brooklyn family who, through a ripple effect evidenced by lines and snippets of patrons sharing their fondest memories of the bar, imbued warmth and camaraderie into an entire community of Brooklynites. Still, we’re led back to what really is the heart of the story as projections of family photos dance across the building’s exterior and smiling patrons sit at the tables within.

In a city swarming with so many ideas about how to shake things up at the theater with immersive or site-specific productions, The Wind and the Rain hits the mark, holding a trust in their audience that allows everyone to step into the story for a night rather than just sitting in a dark theater watching it.