The cast of Heartbreak House. All photos by T. Charles Erickson |
Well now, what do we have here: a ship of state or a ship of
fools? Perhaps both, for George Bernard Shaw’s Heartbreak House, which premiered in 1920, allows for either
interpretation, and perhaps several more, for the ship of state might already
have foundered on the rocks of the grim reality of the inherent insanity of WWI,
and the ship of fools might just be an asylum in which the deluded inmates,
wearing masks, run the institution. Add in a 21st-century running
joke and you have Hartford Stage’s stylish yet somewhat enigmatic production of
one of Shaw’s least-produced plays. Often humorous, the play ends with a
disturbing yet elegantly lit portrait that suggests modern ennui can only be
overcome by a yearning for destruction and obliteration.
The Chekhovian overtones in the play are no secret, since
Shaw’s script bears the subtitle: “A Fantasia in the Russian Manner on English
Themes.” What this means, amongst other things, is that we have a house that is
basically a pressure cooker, the confines forcing those who enter to interact,
or to act out, with each other and, in the process, reveal the mores of the
society they have constructed or to which they are enslaved.
The first resident (or inmate) to be seen is Ellie Dunn (Dani De Waal) who, as the audience seats itself, is seen sitting on a love seat reading a book (it turns out to be Shakespeare’s Othello – significant if only for the misguided passions that play limns). She is discovered by Nurse Guiness (Mary VanArsdel), who doesn’t know who Ellie is. It’s quickly explained that Ellie has been invited to the house by one of its residents, Hesione Hushabye (Charlotte Parry), daughter of the “captain of the ship,” Captain Shotover (Miles Anderson). Soon others make their appearance: there’s Lady
Utterword (Tessa Auberjonois), Captain Shotover’s other daughter whom
he feigns not to recognize, Hector Hushabye (Stephen Barker Turner), Hesione’s
husband, Mazzini Dunn (Keith Reddin), Ellie’s father, Randall Utterword (Grant
Goodman), Lady Utterword’s brother-in-law, and finally Boss Mangan (Andrew
Long), whose entrance evokes peals of audience laughter (it should be noted
that Connecticut’s seven Electoral College votes went to Hillary).
So the cast (passengers? inmates?), under the direction of
Darko Tresnjak, has been gathered. What follows, after the necessary
exposition, is a Shavian exercise in delving into various themes: a suggestion
that British society, post WWI, is both effete and enervated; appearance vs.
reality, for over the course of the evening just about every character is
revealed not to be whom he or she purports to be; fate – do we steer our own
craft through life or are we merely passengers?; the battle of the sexes (and
nascent feminism) -- exactly which sex is dominant -- and the concomitant
possibility that the war’s toll has left British society (and its females) with
men in name only, for the best died in the trenches. That’s a lot to deal with
(a sub-plot dealing with a burglar has blessedly been edited out of this
production), which is why the show runs close to three hours with one
intermission.
Miles Anderson |
First, the movement, which is facilitated by scenic designer
Colin McGurk’s multi-level set, a evocation of a ship complete with a circular-railed
prow at the front of the thrust stage that allows Tresnjak to emphasize the
idea that these characters are chasing each other, with the roles of predator
and prey shifting. What might have been a static placement of characters within
a drawing room becomes a delightful dance with an occasional pause to allow for
dramatic set-pieces.
Then, the guidance. The characters, as written, could be
construed to be mere “types,” various representatives of a post-war British
society that had been bled dry, but they all come to life, especially the
oh-so-modern and somewhat world-weary Hesione, the apparently naïve Ellie, who
is determined to be a “modern woman” and thus marry for money, the somewhat
deranged (read wise fool) Captain Shotover, Hector, an artist manqué cum lounge
lizard who seems to exist at his wife’s whim, and Lady Utterword who, true to
her name, rules with an acerbic tongue.
The guidance can only be questioned re. Boss Mangan. A
decision has been made, abetted by Jason Allen’s wig design, that dictates how
Long will act the part -- for some in the audience it may be a delightful
comment on current events (and some of Shaw’s dialogue seems to be painfully
prescient) while for others it may be an anachronistic distraction. It
certainly draws attention to itself – whether that’s good or bad is perhaps in
the eye (and the mind) of the beholder. However, there’s no doubt that Long,
charged with evoking a man currently in the news on an hourly basis, nails it…and
it allows for a brief bit of stage business between Hesione and Mangan
involving a wig that is an uproarious sight gag.
That Shaw may have been attempting to juggle a few too many
themes does not take away from the stylish interpretation Hartford Stage has
given to Heartbreak House. You may
not always understand exactly what point is being made (I certainly didn’t -- I’m
still trying to parse Captain Shotover’s final “sermon” to his gathered guests),
but there’s no denying evocative acting and directorial flourishes can often
trump critical analysis.
Heartbreak House runs
through June 11. For tickets or more information call 860-527-5151 or go to
www.hartfordtsage.org.