|Photo by Joan Marcus|
The second coming of Violet, the 1997 Off-Broadway musical by Jeanine Tesori (music) and Brian Crawley (book and lyrics), amounts to a modest miracle, as far as man-made miracles go, and it couldn't happen to a nicer girl who believes in miracles.
The title character — in short-story form, "The Ugliest Pilgrim" by Doris Betts — is a trusting young farm girl from Spruce Pine, N.C., who hops a Greyhound to get to her miracle, which happens to be in Tulsa in the form of a faith-healing televangelist.
What she had in mind was a face-healing. When she was 13, watching her father chop wood, the shim of his axe blade suddenly came loose and struck her across the face, leaving a ghastly gash that runs from her nose all the way down her left cheek.
And that's the whole point of the piece, contended the actress. "Everybody has scars. Some you can see and some you can't. Violet's was literally given to her by her father — accidentally, but nevertheless."
Foster conceded, "I think we all carry around these scars that we deal with every day. And there is something about this character that resonates on a deep level with me personally.
"I think I can pull from a lot of my own experiences. My own upbringing definitely correlates with her story. I grew up in the South and watched televangelists... I know what it's like to believe in something so much you think it'll take away all pain and suffering. To play a character who learns to forgive, learns to love, learns to accept is great. These are all themes I know I can relate to and others can, too."
During this long bus ride into self-awareness, which officially opens April 20 at Roundabout's American Airlines Theatre, and runs until Aug. 10, Violet falls in with a couple of soldier-boys fresh from basic training and bound for Fort Smith — Monty (Colin Donnell), a lover-boy type, and Flick (Joshua Henry), an African-American who, it being the South of 1964, is also sensitive about how he looks to others.
"One unique thing about Flick and Monty is that the scar does not affect them the way it affects other people," Donnell noted. "The reason Violet attaches herself to us — and us to her — is we're unaffected by it. Shortly after meeting, we joke about it. For whatever reason, we are able to see the person beyond the disfigurement."
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