Chris Henry Coffey, Jake Robards, Jennifer Van Dyck, Charles
Socarides, Keira Naughton, and Heidi Armbruster in A. R. Gurney’s
“The Dining Room.” Photo by Carol Rosegg
Sometimes it just all comes
together, and when it does there’s magic on the stage. Such is the case with
“The Dining Room,” A. R. Gurney’s nostalgic look back at a way of life, a way
of thinking, a way of dining, currently on the boards at the Westport Country
Playhouse. The production, under the sure directorial hand of Mark Lamos, the
Playhouse’s artistic director, satisfies on many levels, and although it may
initially generate a bit of confusion amongst the audience members as to who is
who, the smart theatergoer should simply sit back, not worry about such
trivialities, and just soak it all in.
The
amazing thing is that “The Dining Room,” first produced in 1982, succeeds
without having a plot, or at least one that follows the schema of rising
action/climax/falling action of traditional dramas. Instead, what Gurney gives
us is a series of vignettes as various families interact in a single room, a
formal dining room that is done up in a ghost-like, pale blue motif created by
scenic designer Michael Yeargan. The set is apropos, for Gurney’s thrust is
that what we are seeing has passed from view and become wisps of memory. It is
only in the final moments of the play that the setting itself comes to vivid
life and we are given a tableau vivant that is touching and heartfelt.
Some
may quibble that what we are watching is the slow demise of dinosaurs (aka
WASPs), and good riddance, and yes, Gurney captures much of the pretentiousness
and “soft” bigotry inherent in the tribe, but the playwright is not interested
in pillorying; this is not a strident attack but rather a gentle nudging, for
whatever their faults, the WASPs Gurney chronicles lived by a code and, in
their own way, we’re as concerned about their own as were any of the untermenschen
they frowned upon (and hired as servants).
In
a commentary by Gurney written for the Playhouse’s program he acknowledges that
the lack of clear, linear presentation may present problems for the audience,
for it is often difficult to determine exactly which family we are viewing and
at which stage in the family’s life the scene is taking place, but, although
this is initially troubling, the bother passes, and much of the credit for this
must go to the stellar ensemble of actors Lamos has gathered, in number six –
Heidi Armbruster, Chris Henley Coffey, Keira Naughton, Jake Robards, Charles
Socarides and Jennifer Van Dyck – who, over the course of the evening, take on
over 50 roles.
To accept and
embrace what is going on you have to understand that added to the 50-plus
characters there is one other, which is the room itself, and if the audience
members take the position that they are, in fact, the room, then the comings and goings, the different familial and
related designations – Mother? Daughter? Husband? Grandfather? Maid? Cook? –
simply don’t matter. The people change, the room is eternal, accepts all that
happens and does not judge; it simply provides the venue for life to unfold, to
act out its little moments, be they birthday parties, assignations, fraught father-daughter
conversations or torturous meals where the proprieties must be observed and
finger bowls must be used.
A lot is asked of
these six actors, and all deliver, though (given the nature of the script) it
is the three women who seem to shine the most. It’s a delight to watch Van Dyck
change from gawky adolescent to sophisticated, sexy matron to terse, arthritic servant,
Armbruster to morph from frigid, rule-bound matron to saucy teen to Irish
factotum, and, most delightful, to watch Naughton shift from obstreperous teen
to troubled wife, to a grandmother suffering from Alzheimer’s, to a perplexed
cook…and many of these transmogrifications are done in mere moments.
In the end, I come
back to the play’s final moments, which Lamos has crafted with a deft hand, for
what we are given is a scene of civility and congeniality, lit by candlelight
-- people gathering together to share what, in fact, tribes have always shared,
which is feasting by firelight, be it in caves, castles or dining rooms, creating
an environment that, at least for the moment, tells us we are among friends and
whatever demons may lurk in the shadows are being kept at bay by the warmth and
light that shines around us, a warmth and light we ourselves create…because we
are family, we are the tribe known as… (fill in the blank).
“The Dining Room”
runs through May 18. For tickets or more information 203-227-4177 or go to www.westportplayhouse.org.
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