CANDYLAND: THE SAGA OF HELEN BRACH AND HER PET POODLE SUGAR
First, a few real-life facts. Helen Brach, the 65-year-old widow and heiress to the Brach’s Candy fortune, mysteriously disappeared in 1977. Her body was never found. Brach’s houseman, Jack Matlick, came under suspicion but was never indicted. With no corpse, or substantial evidence of murder, it’s hard to indict anyone. Nor can Brach’s will be expedited until she’s declared legally dead. Anyway, the bulk of her estate, estimated at above $30 million, is willed to the Helen Brach Foundation, a charitable trust for the aid of animals. A widow but never a mother, Helen Brach was a pet freak.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against such a thoroughgoing, interdisciplinary approach to theater. It is an amalgamated art form, after all. But it should amount to something more than a stampede of lemmings. And Candyland–other than as a punishment for heinous artistic directors–doesn’t pass the “What’s the point?” test. Once the rather obvious satire begins to fall apart, the play simply drags on into a semimystical treatment of the master/pet relationship. There’s a big emphasis on the issue of whether or not Helen and Sugar will reunite in the afterlife. Sugar’s curtain line is “I just know I’ll see [Helen’s] face again.” Now, if you want to argue that this is a logical extension of the theme, fine, but I’m calling a cab.
