Theatre in Review: The New York Idea (Atlantic Theatre/Lucille Lortel Theatre)

	Michael Countryman and Jaime Ray Newman. Photo: Ari Mintz.

The emergence of the New Woman and the mania for divorce rocks New York society in David Auburn's gloss on Langdon Mitchell's 1906 comedy. Originally a vehicle for Mrs. Fiske, one of the era's great leading ladies -- her supporting cast included the likes of George Arliss, one of the early leading men of talking pictures, and Dudley Digges, who would go on to star in The Iceman Cometh - The New York Idea must have seemed awfully racy in its day. Here, trimmed and neatened up by Auburn, in much the same way that David Mamet fluffed up Harley Granville-Barker's The Voysey Inheritance a few seasons back, The New York Idea provides two hours of scattered, if slightly uneasy, fun.

The main characters in The New York Idea are riding a marital merry-go-round that has the older generation reeling in horror. Philip Philimore, a staid, stuffy lawyer, having divorced his willful, epigram-spouting wife, Vida, plans to marry the horsey, independent-minded Cynthia Karslake, herself all too recently married to John Karslake, once one of the town's leading sports, now all but bankrupt. Scandalizing his relations, Philip has even installed Cynthia in his home as a premarital guest. Meanwhile, John and Vida have been taking comfort in each other's company.

But Mitchell has in mind something more than a mere swap of spouses. It quickly becomes clear that Cynthia and John are the mismatch of the century -- she's bored to death with his quiet ways -- even if both are determined to go ahead with their nuptials. Neither are John and Cynthia a pair for the ages. (As she puts it, "You've been a lovely refreshing sherbet between dishes, but now I think I'm ready for the next course.) Adding a rogue element is Wilfred Cates-Darby, a wealthy Englishman who is sailing for home in a week's time and is hell-bent on bringing along Cynthia -- or Vida, depending on availability.

Thanks to a sly supporting cast, The New York Idea never really runs dry of laughs. You won't find a better pride of elderly prigs than Peter Maloney, Patricia Connolly, and Patricia O'Connell, as Philip's relatives. I treasure the memory of Connolly being forcibly carried into a wedding she wants nothing to do with, her body as straight as an ironing board. Maloney amuses endlessly, especially when pausing in the middle of a tirade to take a calming sip of tea. O'Connell's increasing bafflement at the intrigue unfolding around her constitutes a lovely bit of underplaying. Michael Countryman's Philip is blissfully unaware of his own dullness. ("And I agreed we'd earn our happiness," he tells Cynthia. "Build it by the sweat of our brow...slowly, laboriously, brick by brick.") There are also lovely contributions from John Keating as an insolent English manservant and Mikaela Feely-Lehmann as a French maid with a remarkably laissez-faire attitude toward matters of the heart. In addition, Jeremy Shamos adds a needed touch of sincerity as John, and Rick Holmes is a genial plummy-voiced rake as Cates-Darby.

But Mark Brokaw's production suffers from two crucial pieces of miscasting. Cynthia is supposed to embody the 20th-century woman -- all fun, frankness, and unleashed energy -- but Jaime Ray Newman seems utterly lost at sea in the role. Newman is recently arrived in New York, and she may yet impress in other roles. Here, however, she has little sense of period style, and tends to push her lines into the upper reaches of her vocal register, lending an unwanted shrillness to the characterization. She is also given to flinging her arms about in an almost desperate attempt at suggesting high spirits. It's a terribly damaging performance, because if we don't care what happens to Cynthia, The New York Idea devolves into a series of mechanical plot complications. As Vida, Francesca Faridany is better, but not much; she shows little flair for this kind of high comedy, coming down hard on each of her lines instead of lightly throwing them away. As a result, dialogue that reads rather well on the page tends to go flat in the theatre.

There's a further uncertainty underlining the entire enterprise, which again has to do with Brokaw's staging. It's never really clear how we're meant to take this version of a turn-of-the-century comic chestnut -- as a valentine to the conventions of a hundred years ago, a satire of outdated social attitudes, or a comment on contemporary mating habits. It adds up to a slightly peculiar evening, one that is amusing without really being satisfying.

Anyway, the production is smartly packaged. Allen Moyer's remarkably clever set packs two different parlors and a lady's boudoir onto the small Lortel stage -- each with a matching ground plan and different color scheme. He enrobes the stage in gold Austrian curtains for an extra touch of swank. Michael Krass' costumes rely on elegant lines and a minimum of fussy detail; most memorable is a knockout of an evening gown for Faridany. Mary Louise Geiger's lighting adds an unobtrusive note of cheer.

Anyone with an interest in theatre history will want to check out The New York Idea, if only for a sample of a play that hasn't gotten a major revival since 1933. As long as you don't expect a lost classic, it's worth a look.--David Barbour