"Butterflies Are Free"

June 23, 2011 — Whenever I go to a play at the Winnipesaukee Playhouse (the "Winni") in Weirs Beach, New Hampshire, I make an afternoon out of it and stop first in nearby Meredith and stroll around the picturesque bayside community, admiring the very expensive boats along the dock, and taking in the beauty of Lake Winnipesaukee on a warm summer day. After supper at Hart's Turkey Farm, I drive over to Weirs Beach and stroll along the boardwalk, and if the timing is right, see the M.V. Mount Washington, Lake Winnipesaukee's huge, popular excursion boat, arrive at the Weirs dock. But on this third day of summer, the temperature was a very unsummer-like 60 degrees and a cold rain was falling. That pretty much ruled out my afternoon strolling, so I had supper at home and drove directly to the Winni.

On this evening, the Winni was staging "Butterflies Are Free." I didn't see the 1972 movie, so this perfectly charming little play was all new to me. It's about a young man who, after a sheltered life, strikes out on his own and gets an apartment in New York City, escaping his domineering mother. The young man has a handicap I won't disclose in case you have a chance to see the play, although it's revealed fairly early on. A lackadaisical young woman with little sense of moral propriety in the adjacent apartment intrudes into his well-ordered life, quickly seduces him, and he just as quickly falls head over heels for her. When his mother shows up unannounced and finds the couple in their underwear, some very peppery dialogue ensues.

The play is a delight. Perky, cute Rebecca A. K. Turner is perfectly cast in the role of the free-spirited girl. Her performance is easily the best of the talented cast. Mostly humorous and lighthearted, with smart dialogue, the play has lessons on how emotional handicaps can often be more threatening to quality of life than physical disabilities.

The drive home was rather unpleasant over dark New Hampshire roads as the relentless rain continued. That was yesterday. This afternoon, as I write this, it's 58 degrees and still raining. Summer, where are you? Did we say something to offend you?