Theatre in Review: Lovers (The Actors Company Theatre/Theatre Row)Lovers consists of a pair of one-acts, "Winners" and "Losers," but the line between the two, as is usually the case in the world of Brian Friel, is precariously thin. Not seen in New York since 1968, Lovers offers a different and intriguing look at a writer who has become best known for his Chekovian portraits of country folk watching the years -- and any chance at happiness -- slip by. The author of Lovers is a younger man, one with a less elegiac view of life, and an artist who hasn't totally found the voice that will make him an international success. But his classic themes are already present along with some interesting formal inventions and a welcome burst of robust comedy. "Winners" focuses on Mag and Joe, adolescents who are due to be married in three weeks. (She is nearly three months pregnant.) They adjourn to a hill above their town to study for the final exams that will represent their farewell to childhood. As they alternately hit the books and clown around, interrupting each other and getting on each other's nerves, we see how the very real love between them is already heavily freighted with worries and unwelcome responsibilities. It's fine material for a touching, if conventional piece, but Friel puts a frame around it, using a pair of narrators who, speaking into microphones like announcers delivering the news, provide information about the characters' pasts and futures that reframes everything we are seeing, making clear that both the brightest happiness and deepest sorrow are startlingly evanescent things. It's a very Thornton Wilder-ish idea, and it comes to a melancholy conclusion that the author of Our Town would surely appreciate. (One wonders if he ever saw Lovers.) As Mag, Justine Salata practically vibrates with adolescent energy, exuding a nerve-shattering confidence that masks deeper fears and insecurities. Cameron Scoggins, seen to such good effect last season in The Big Meal at Playwrights Horizons, captures each of Joe's transient emotions precisely, if briefly, before heading off on another tangent; he is especially touching in the moment when Joe quietly surrenders his dream of a course in math education at a London college. James Riordan and Kati Brazda, who play the dispassionate narrators of "Winners," return in "Losers" as a mightily frustrated pair of middle-aged lovers. Andy and Hanna want nothing more than to be married, but Hanna is burdened with her mother, a saintly, smiling old despot who rules the household from the bed she never leaves. As played by Nora Chester with a simpering smile that barely conceals a will of iron -- blowing kisses at her statue of St. Philomena and ringing her bedside bell whenever the house gets suspiciously quiet -- Mrs. Wilson is the living embodiment of the tyranny of the weak. Andy develops a technique of loudly reciting Thomas Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard" during their lovemaking sessions in order to keep Mrs. Wilson off her guard, a strategy that does nothing to advance the cause of either poetry or romance. When a decree from Vatican II leaves St. Philomena a downgraded and historically questionable figure, Andy thinks he has the makings of a tasty revenge against the old lady, but his plot goes wildly awry. The play also benefits from the presence of Cynthia Darlow as Mrs. Wilson's equally superannuated friend; her every move is accompanied by a symphony of grunts and groans. Drew Barr's direction gets the most out of his talented cast, all of whom seem to instinctively trust Friel's gift for wicked comedy and profoundly Irish melancholy. The production also features an attention-getting look, thanks to Brett J. Banakis' unusual set design, which features a sharply angled low-rise wall with a second playing level. In front of the wall is an interior space. All the way upstage is a drop depicting an enormous black tree painted against a white sky. It's a surprisingly attractive concept that also suits the needs of both plays. In addition, Mary Louise Geiger's lighting, Kim Krumm Sorenson's costumes, and Daniel Kluger's original music and sound design are equally fine. We're having a mini-Brian Friel festival this fall, an auspicious turn of events that highlights two of his lesser-known works. Next month, Irish Repertory Theatre opens The Freedom of the City, about Northern Ireland's notorious Bloody Sunday incident. On the basis of Lovers, it's high time we had a second look at this fine playwright's earlier works.--David Barbour 
|
