Definitely, Darling: Almost, Maine Charms at Cumberland Players
by Ash Kotter
Ah… love. One moment, your heart’s sentiments are as sharp as crisp winter air in your lungs; the next, you’re trudging through shovel-fulls of feelings and salting the pathways so you don’t slip and fall again. Playwright John Cariani braves this emotional tundra in Almost, Maine — where through eight separate yet interconnected vignettes, hearts break, mend, or are left haphazardly pieced together under an Aurora Borealis glow. I cozied up in the audience at their opening night performance at Cumberland Players, and this self-proclaimed, bleeding-heart sap can attest: CP’s production of Almost, Maine will warm even the coldest of December spirits.
Cariani’s highly acclaimed and widely produced play takes us to a town just north of reality: the fictional Almost, Maine, where its residents navigate hilarious yet profoundly tender complexities of finding, and keeping, connection. Judging by the number of times I caught myself chortling through teary eyes (I told you, I’m a sap), Director Giovanna Day captures these little Polaroid moments of humor and heartfelt sentimentality with skill. She drives an A+ pace, allowing poignant beats to breathe freely and ensuring an authenticity that makes the comedy bits land even harder. “We never treated this as a comedy,” she told me after the show. “The actors played the moments just the way they meant them, genuinely.”
In this four-part, powerhouse ensemble, each actor plays between 4 and 6 roles. Day generally pairs actors with the same scene partners, allowing for clever throughlines as you follow the actors’ tracks. For example, one early scene revolves around two characters and a literal broken heart, only for the same actors as different characters to reveal a literal whole heart towards the end of the play — chef’s kiss poetic direction.
At lights up, we meet Jeffrey Horsman and Maddie VanMeter as Pete and Ginette, a couple navigating emotional and physical closeness — Ginette inching ever-so-slightly toward a nervously stoic Pete, seemingly unsure how to receive what she’s trying to give. In their next scene, they introduce us to Jimmy and Sandrine, two people revisiting their shared past and awkwardly navigating their distant present. The actors show us a palpable contrast between these two pairs of characters — Horsman’s reserved Pete to the eager (and later deflated) Jimmy; VanMeter’s open-hearted Ginette to the polite yet guarded Sandrine, her restraint hinting at a wound she’s worked hard to protect. Their depth shines again as Daniel and Hope, exploring an unresolved love lost in a scene that left a wee lump in my throat. Horsman emotionally anchors the scene as Daniel, delivering weighty subtext through his subtle microexpressions. VanMeter as Hope shares a bold performance, balancing regret and resolve in one word: “Yes.”
Dan Safeer and Chelsey Shindler first appear as East and Glory. With Shindler’s whimsical Glory carrying her broken heart in her bag (a metaphor absurd enough to feel oddly relatable), their storytelling drives home the power of emotional healing and repair. Their portrayal of Steve and Marvalyn blends laugh-out-loud physical comedy with genuine warmth. Safeer shows a sweetly heartbreaking vulnerability as Steve, an emotionally stunted man impervious to physical pain. Dan’s clear shifts in vocal quality and physicality demonstrate an adept skill in characterization here. They delight again as Rhonda and Dave, where after they finally “see the thing,” they give us what might be the longest, tastefully comedic strip-off in contemporary theater — tossing layers upon layers of winter warmers on the floor, along with their emotional defenses. Shindler navigates Rhonda with sharp comedic timing and unguarded honesty, while Safeer’s Dave exudes earnest determination (“You just gotta trick it!” has officially imprinted on my personality).
Special shout-outs go to Matthew McGill and Frankie Ferguson for their dedication and commitment as understudies. In a play with such a small cast, their readiness is essential to the run's success, and their presence on the playbill adds a layer of polish to this well-rounded production. A note of gratitude goes to Kayla Corbo, billed as the Intimacy Coordinator. There were quite a few kisses and several moments of close, physical touch sprinkled throughout the show, and Corbo’s work ensures these moments remain pure and sustainable for the actors, particularly given the spontaneity of the characters’ actions in these moments.
Technical cheers to Production Managers Karen Johns and Michael Blandino, and Stage Manager Sonja Stornes for their leadership behind the scenes in bringing all of the elements together. Costume Designer Beth Blandino perfectly winterizes the wardrobe, bundling the actors in cold-weather gear, well-accessorized from down/puffer/fur jackets and pom-pom hats and scarves. Beth’s choice to use mostly muted tones accented by pops of color seems to thematically mirror the set designed by Giovanna Day, constructed by Michael Blandino, Monica DiMauro, and Danny VanMeter, and painted by Karen Johns and Frankie Ferguson. The simplicity of the design — a red bench, a wood facade with a yellow door and stoop, and delicately placed snowy adornments — keeps you in the world while allowing the unfolding relationships on stage to be the primary focus. Lighting Designers Sonja Stornes, AJ Dannecker, and Light/Sound Tech Austin Satinsky elevate the atmosphere with thoughtful, purposeful cues — a backlit scrim reveals forest shadows silhouetted against a starry night sky, while subtle laser effects and multi-colored flashes representing the northern lights weave through scene transitions, marking moments of realization, change, or healing. Scene changes were underscored by gentle swells of acoustic indie/folk guitar, keeping the audience in their Honey Nut Feelios™ during the downtime.
With Almost, Maine, the team at Cumberland Players creates an evening of affectionately tethered moments of humor and humanity, reminding us that there’s beauty in every piece of love’s puzzle — even when it fits imperfectly. Almost, Maine runs through December 14th. Bundle up, grab your tickets (and maybe a tissue, if you’re like me), and prepare to fall in love with this darling little play.
