It may well have been “The love
that dare not speak its name,” as Lord Alfred Douglas so aptly phrased it in
his poem, “Two Loves,” but, over the years, numerous poets, novelists and
playwrights found creative ways to evoke that “name” without actually speaking
it. Some critics may have called that dissimulation, but since, in England at
least, homosexuality was a criminal offense up until 1967, such subterfuge was
a shield against both social and legal assault. However, the toll taken on spirit
and soul by those who had to hide their proclivities was as great as the
lengths to which they went to maintain a façade of “normalcy.”
Such
is the driving force behind “A Song at Twilight,” Noel Coward’s last play now on
the boards at Hartford Stage, directed by Mark Lamos, artistic director at the
Westport Country Playhouse. The effort is both amusing (Coward was, among other
things, the master of witty dialogue) and moving, though it is not without its
flaws, minor though they may be.
As
outlined in the program notes, Coward was inspired to pen “Twilight” after
hearing an amusing anecdote told of Sir Max Beerbohm as well as the publication
of W. Somerset Maugham’s memoir in which the author strove, through blame,
innuendo and sheer hypocrisy, to maintain that façade of “normalcy,” in the
process losing many friends who were well aware of Maugham’s true inclinations.
The
one-act play is set in a private suite in a luxury hotel in Switzerland (more
about Alexander Dodge’s set later), where renowned author Hugo Latymer (Brian
Murray) and his wife Hilde (Mia Dillon) await the arrival of Carlotta Gray
(Gordana Rashovich), a second-tier film actress and old flame of Latymer’s who
has, many years after their affair ended, inexplicably requested an audience
with the now aged, ailing author.
Mia Dillon and Gordana Rashovich
Felix
(Nicholas Carriere), a waiter, brings the couple libations and after Hilde
pours, she departs for dinner and a movie with a lesbian friend, leaving
Latymer to confront Carlotta on his own. Upon Carlotta’s arrival, the two play
a cat-and-mouse game about Carlotta’s intentions until it is revealed that the
actress is in possession of two sets of letters, one old love letters from
Latymer that she would like to publish in her autobiography; the other set is of
a more incriminating sort. It is the possession of these letters and the
memories, passions and betrayals they evoke, that take up the rest of the play,
with Hilde returning to help drive the drama to its climax.
The
play is a classic drawing room piece and as such the material draws attention
to Dodge’s set (part representational, part presentational): a capacious open
room with little art or decoration save for a reclining nude statue upstage
that has been top-lit by lighting
designer Matthew Richards for emphasis. The ceiling is high and the
walls seem to stretch out to infinity – it has more the feel of a catacomb or
tomb than of a luxury hotel suite – the result being that the set’s furniture
and the actors often seem dwarfed. This is especially true when the actors are
standing extreme stage left and right – the distance between them seems
immense.
Gordana Rashovich, Nicholas Carriere and Brian Murray
Dodge
has given Lamos a lot of room to work with, and although the director does some
nice, well-balanced blocking, often it seems the actors, especially in Scene
One, are locked in place as they stand and deliver their lines (more movement
could have enhanced the verbal and intellectual pas de deux going on between
Latymer and Gray). It is at these moments that the set seems the most daunting.
Its size, as well as the size of the house, also affects audibleness: the set sometimes
seems to devour the actors’ words so that a mere cough from the audience masks
the dialogue. This is especially true for many of Murray ’s lines.
Dodge
has also given Lamos a platform area high up and stage left where, at the close
of each scene, two young male actors (Bryan Kopp and Paul Willis Jr.) stand nude
behind a scrim (a theater drop that appears opaque when a scene is lighted in
front and transparent or translucent when a scene is back-lit) miming intimacy.
Although both scenes, staged very tastefully with haunting music by sound
designer John Gromada, are meant to evoke Latymer’s memories, their necessity
is debatable. Perhaps the actors on stage could just have easily (and more effectively)
created the sense and import of those memories.
Set and some
staging decisions aside, “Twilight” delivers many intriguing, entertaining
moments. Murray, who is on-stage for almost the entire production, ably creates
a man who, much like Maugham, has wrapped his life in lies and, in the process,
driven away everyone but his wife of 20 years. He is, at different moments,
irate, taunting, cajoling, irascible and disingenuous.
Although both
Dillon and Rashovich seem a bit tentative at the start (at least at the
Saturday matinee I attended – there may have been extenuating circumstances),
both quickly warm to their parts, with Rashovich’s character giving as good as
she gets from Latymer in their extended moments together, and Dillon lighting
up the stage and engaging the audience in the second act, delightfully bringing
her character to life, giving Hilde a depth not apparent in Scene One.
All in all, the
well-constructed “Twilight” offers its audience an often amusing,
thought-provoking 80-or-so minutes of theater. It is a classic example of why
Coward achieved such fame, for it is, by and large, witty, elegant and
sophisticated.
“A Song at
Twilight” runs through March 16. For tickets or more information call
860-527-5151 or go to www.hartfordstage.org.
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