As a young soldier, Edgar Allan Poe spent 13 months on Fort Moultrie, a fact that has long been a delicious tidbit for "Raven"-heads and other Charleston culture vultures.
It was so delicious a literary morsel that it drove the theme of a Sullivan's Island restaurant, Poe's Tavern, the beach pub that has parlayed its proximity to the scribe's former stomping grounds into a raven-topped cash cow. Among its offerings are Poe-centric patties like the Gold Bug (as in cheese) and the Pit & Pendulum (bringing on the bacon).
Still, there are plenty of other savory ways to leverage Poe's oeuvre, and some of them even bake in teachable moments. For one, there is Charleston Stage's "Nevermore: Voyage into the Netherworld," a work written some years ago by company founder and producing artistic director Julian Wiles that has enjoyed numerous productions in Charleston and elsewhere.
Citing 17 works by Poe within the text, "Nevermore" is not only a phantasmagorically suspenseful ride careering toward said under region, it's also a speedy study guide to one of the most renowned American writers of the 19th century. Engaging readers of all ages, it reveals the ways in which Charleston left its mark on Poe, and how Poe also left his eerie, inky mark on Charleston (cue up "The Gold Bug").
The work mainly swirls around his poem "Annabel Lee." In it, a narrator mourns the death of his youthful love interest in a kingdom by the sea. Many in Charleston believe the girl was based on Anna Ravenel, the object of Poe's affection while at Fort Moultrie, whose prominent Charleston father successfully dashed any hopes of a union to soldier of lesser station.
Whatever merit this account may hold, Wiles' work urges us from the get-go to make our own truths and suspend that bothersome state called disbelief. Thus Annabel Lee comes to life as a blond-locked, white-frocked Charleston ingenue (who in this version is curiously given the surname of Middleton).
We first meet the two in their youth (Luke Shaw and Lily Wozniak), before shifting to maturity (Jesse Siak and Julia Kelly-Davis). That's when the trouble starts brewing for the increasingly tormented writer who frequently bent his elbow to tip a tankard. After she steals Poe's heart and haunts his dreams, he drowns his sorrows in so much drink that neither he nor we can separate his truth from his delusional torment.
Setting sail with his chum Captain Jeremiah Reynolds (Anthony Lazzaro), he keeps company with the ship's captain, Amos Nimrod (Colin Waters). Is Reynolds his steadfast friend or hell-bent foe? Is Nimrod a convivial maritime host or dark prince? Through much of the first act we get our sea legs around these questions, unsure whether his woes are real or a devilish spawn of his own vexed mind.
So we reel right with Poe as he becomes enmeshed in his own menacing scenarios. There is the craven, plagued assemblage of "The Masque of the Red Death" and the ominous corpse-size subject matter of "The Oblong Box." There is the throbbing horror under the floorboards of "The Telltale Heart" and the sinister edge of "The Pit and the Pendulum." And that pesky raven won't give Poe a moment's peace, either.
By the end of the first act, I did lose my bearing a bit, wondering where all this was leading. However, I was able to right myself in the second act, as the plot asserted itself and offered a satisfying finish.
That plot was mainly powered by Jesse Siak, who fit the part of an endearing, yet tormented Poe, wild coif and all. As Annabel Lee, Kelly-Davis is a fetching, seeming figment of his imagination, wafting between the real and the imagined as the story advances. The leads were backed by an eight-strong ensemble who switched from sea mates to ball guests and more as the scenes required.
All this takes place on a simple, effective set featuring furled sheets that lower into scrims or sails, at times projecting color. The scenario was rendered all the more Victorian by way of the finely spun costumes of Haley Francisco. An original score and sound design by Luke Walchuk lent a suitably lugubrious tone.
After a not-too-terribly terrifying foray into Poe's writings, I departed having dusted off my recall of more than a few favorites, armed for the October days to come when telltale hearts and menacing pendulums make for perfect conversation.
