By: Darryl Reilly
“When I met James Dean, I met the love of my life” says Nicholas Ray in playwright Nicca Ray’s aching autobiographical fantasia The Cry of the Butterfly.
Rebel Without a Cause, In a Lonely Place, and Johnny Guitar, are among the classic Hollywood films Mr. Ray directed. The bisexual Ray was a free spirit who was beset with alcoholism and drug addiction. Nicca Ray is his daughter. Her free-form dysfunctional family chronicle dramatizes her young adulthood.
Michigan-born Betty Utey appeared as a dancer in such films as Hans Christen Andersen, Guys and Dolls, and Silk Stockings. She was in Nicholas Ray’s Party Girl and became the third of his four wives in 1958. In the early 1960’s they had two daughters, Julie and Nicca. Utey and Ray separated in 1964 and divorced in 1970.
For numerous years Ray had no contact with his children and did not provide financial support. Utey quit show business, developed an addiction to pain medications, and had affairs. Nicca left home at 15 for a rough existence which included panhandling, she overcame her addictions, became an actress, and later an acclaimed poet and memoirist.
Her canny dramatic conceit in The Cry of the Butterfly is that as Utey is dying of throat cancer she is visited by her now adult daughters, emotional sparks and recriminations flare. She is also visited by the spirits of Nicholas Ray and James Dean who interact with her as their tangled relationships are recounted. “He needed our youth; he sucked it out of us” commiserates Dean to Utey of the much older Ray.
Ms. Ray offers a taut and distinctive take on the classic troubled family drama with her rich portraits of her egotistical and neurotic parents. Her acerbic and passionate dialogue is laced with show business lore. The Cry of the Butterfly is simultaneously droll, bittersweet, and redemptive.
Director Joe John Battista’s bracing physical staging visualizes this memory play through grand stagecraft. Artful incarnations of illustrative film clips are periodically projected centerstage. The playing area is strategically set in sections with key furnishings, allowing locales to swiftly shift. For the otherworldly finale, the floor is picturesquely filled with gales of white smoke. The cast is always placed with precision yielding many entrancing stage pictures.
Virtuoso stage manager Mathew Seepersad’s swirling lighting design achieves a desirable dreamy dimension complemented by jolting strobe lights during a pivotal sequence. Costume designer Wendy Tonken’s basic yet vivid array of garments personalizes the look of each of the dynamic ensemble.
The lean, leggy, and charismatic Penny Balfour is a heartbreaking whirlwind as Betty Utey. Ms. Balfour’s luminous stage presence and throaty vocal delivery recall the pathos of Tennessee Williams crossed with Neil Simon-style comic timing. “If you’re talking about fucking, I’m the professor and you’re in kindergarten!” brings down the house as bellowed by Balfour.
Cheery Mari Blake’s glorious characterization of the wounded Nicca Ray combines fierceness, tenderness, and nobility. Alexandra Laliberte’s Julie is of appealing feistiness. This magnetic trio’s combative interactions are a smashing highlight of the production.
With his melodious cadences and offbeat serenity, Tom Martin is a striking, surreal, and authoritative Nicholas Ray. “It’s only cancer. I had cancer, I died of it” says Mr. Martin to Betty with characteristic deadpan glee.
Clad in that iconic red jacket, his hair perfectly styled, and employing an authentic twang, all accentuate the beaming and youthful Michael John Gross’ innate resemblance to James Dean. His chiseled facial features and alluring mien further enhance Mr. Gross’ captivating performance.
The play’s cheeky expositional present-day prologue has Nicca Ray chatting with a swarmy television talk show host riotously played by the animated Roger Gonzalez with brash hyperbole and mock sincerity.
“How does it feel to be the daughter of the most innovative director of the 20th century?”
“He was complicated, he had demons. Those also made him great…”
The Cry of the Butterfly (through February 22, 2026)
Theater for the New City, 155 First Avenue, in Manhattan
For tickets, visit www.theaterforthenewcity.net
Running time: 85 minutes with no intermission