On the Shore of the Wide World

D+

2006 must have been a really dismal year for London theater if this tepid family drama by Simon Stephens could win the Olivier award. I will grudgingly express admiration to the Atlantic Theater for their commitment to bringing three of his plays to New York although I wasn’t too impressed with the other two -- Bluebird and Harper Regan — either. However, I liked them better than Punk Rock at MCC or Heisenberg at MTC. Even his Tony-winner The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time was an adaptation of someone else’s novel and owed a lot of its success to its brilliant staging. Therefore, I approached the present play with low expectations. They were met.  We meet three generations of the Holmes family of Stockport, the suburb of Manchester where Stephens grew up — grandparents Charlie (Peter Maloney) and Ellen (the always watchable Blair Brown), their son Peter (C.J. Wilson) and his wife Alice (Atlantic stalwart Mary McCann) and their two grandsons Alex (Ben Rosenfield) and Christopher (Wesley Zurick). There is also Alex’s girlfriend Sarah (Tedra Millan), his friend Paul (Odiseas Georgiadis), Peter’s client Susan (Amelia Workman) and Alice’s new friend John (Leroy McClain). We follow the Holmes family over the course of a year that is punctuated by tragedy. The play has a seemingly endless succession of short scenes that generated very little interest for me. I don’t require sympathetic characters, but I expect to feel some involvement which was lacking here. I looked at my watch often. There is lots of regret, missed opportunity and lack of communication. The fine cast, which struggles uncertainly with the accent, deserves better than this. The set design by Scott Park makes efficient use of space. Sarah Laux’s costumes are apt. Director Neil Pepe does his best with material that is basically inert. Running time: two hours 35 minutes including intermission. Seating advice: Avoid Row B at the Linda Gross Theater because it is not elevated above Row A.

Ghost Stories: The Shawl **** & Prairie du Chien **

In the run-up to their 30th anniversary season, Atlantic Theater Company is presenting two early one-act plays by the group’s co-founder David Mamet on Stage 2. 

“Prairie du Chien” takes place at 3 a.m. in the parlor car of a train speeding across Wisconsin in 1910. On one end of the car a slick card dealer (Nate Dendy) keeps winning at gin at the expense of another passenger (Jim Frangione). At the other end of the car, a traveling salesman (Atlantic founding member Jordan Lage) is telling a ghost tale of jealousy, murder and suicide to a father (Jason Ritter) whose young son (Henry Kellemen) is asleep next to him. A porter (Dereks Thomas) appears from time to time. The salesman’s story was not that interesting, at least the portion I was able to hear. Lage speaks so softly that he was often drowned out by the card players’ banter and the frequent squeaking of the theater’s ancient seats. There is a brief outburst of violence when the gin player accuses the dealer of cheating. That’s about it. Lauren Helpern’s set is evocative. Although the program lists a violence consultant (J. David Brimmer), no sound designer is credited. This omission is unfortunate, because the background noise sounded more like the tumble of a clothes dryer than the clackety-clack of a train.

“The Shawl,” from 1985, is a far more interesting proposition. Miss A (founding member Mary McCann) consults a medium named John (Arliss Howard) about a problem involving her late mother. In the first scene he skillfully teases information out of her to gain her confidence. In the second scene John explains his methods to his hunky young acolyte/boy toy Charles (Ritter again), who wants to learn the trade and hopes that somehow the supernatural really is involved. Charles is broke and threatens to leave John if he doesn’t bring in some money soon. The next meeting between Miss A and John takes some surprising turns. Their final scene together ends on a delightfully equivocal note. Howard and McCann are both superb. The production has one major flaw. The table at which John and Miss A sit is below the stage at the side. Since it is at the same level as the front row of seats, much of the view is blocked by the audience’s heads. I can’t imagine why the director (founding member Scott Zigler) made that choice.

In any case, it was entertaining to see two pieces written by Mamet when his voice was still fresh. 

Running time: one hour, 40 minutes including intermission. NOTE: Do not get seats in Row A. It’s behind row AA and not elevated.

Our New Girl ***

Irish playwright Nancy Harris’s gripping psychological drama, after a highly praised London run, has reached New York and is now in previews at Atlantic Stage 2. The title character is Annie (Lisa Joyce), an Irish farm girl who turns up unexpectedly in the London kitchen of the quite pregnant and quite overwhelmed Hazel (excellent Atlantic stalwart Mary McCann) to be the new nanny for her troubled 8-year-old son Daniel (a remarkable Henry Keleman). Trouble is Hazel’s husband Richard (CJ Wilson), a plastic surgeon away doing charity work in Haiti, has not bothered to tell Hazel about it. Daniel is a handful, acting out in school and at home, with a stare that could turn water to ice. When Richard returns, he and Hazel continually fight over just about everything, especially about how to raise Daniel. Since Richard hates his day job injecting wealthy ladies with botox, he finds satisfaction and a bit of glory with charity missions in world trouble spots. An added benefit is the chance to escape his unhappy household. Hazel had been a high-powered attorney. On holiday in Sicily a year previous, she was so smitten with Alessandra, an earth mother figure who seemed able to do it all, that she impulsively decided to quit the law and open a home business importing Sicilian olive oil. Crates of it now clutter her kitchen. Hazel would be the first to admit that motherhood does not come easily to her. Annie bears the scars of an unhappy past and tries as a nanny to provide better nurturing than she got. One of the play’s greatest strengths is that the characters are all complex, alternately evoking our sympathy and our disapproval. The play opens with a shocking wordless prologue that is difficult to watch but is definitely an attention grabber. Harris is skillful at building suspense. I found the ending less than satisfying and was puzzled why a woman who found motherhood so difficult would even consider having a second child. Timothy R. Mackabee has designed a sleek, aptly sterile kitchen. Sarah J. Holden’s costumes are appropriate. Dialect coach Ben Furey has wrought convincing British and Irish accents. Gaye Taylor Upchurch directs seamlessly. Running time: 2 hours 10 minutes including intermission.

Harper Regan ***

(Please click on the title to see the complete review.)
Simon Stephens's provocative play was a hit in London when it premiered at the National Theatre in 2008. It went on to well-received productions in Chicago and San Francisco. Now it is in previews at The Atlantic Theater Company. Let me start by saying that I found it fascinating and annoying in almost equal measure. Mary McCann, onstage for two hours, is superb as a 41-year-old woman having a midlife crisis in an England that has lost its way. We see her in a series of scenes with her obnoxious boss (Jordan Lage), a 17-year old black student (Stephen Tyrone Williams), her mysteriously unemployed husband (Gareth Saxe), her difficult teenaged daughter (Madeleine Martin), a well-meaning nurse (Mahira Kakkar), a rabidly antisemitic journalist that she meets in a bar (Peter Scanavino), a married man that she meets at a hotel (Christopher Innvar), her estranged mother (the always excellent Mary Beth Peil), her mother's younger second husband (John Sharian) and his apprentice (Vandit Bhatt.) Almost every scene has dialogue that is at least slightly off kilter and ends unpredictably. A series of gradually revealed secrets builds effectively. Some of Harper's motivations are muddy, some of her behavior seems implausible, and the somewhat upbeat ending seems less than fully earned. The set of movable grey slabs by Rachel Hauck is approprately stark. Gaye Taylor Upchurch's direction is assured. I was alternately intrigued, annoyed and exhilarated, but never bored. (Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes including intermission.)