Sunday, July 23, 2017

Terrific Revival of Stoppard's ARCADIA at Atlantic Stage 2

L-R: Andrew William Smith and Caitlin Duffy in ARCADIA.  Photo by Stan Barouh.
Tom Stoppard, arguably the world’s greatest living playwright, is a theatrical wizard and polymath whose plays involve the very biggest, deepest and most complex philosophical and scientific ideas, ranging from chaos theory to determinism to free will, from Fermat’s Last Theorem to fractals to computer algorithms, from Newton’s Second Law of Thermodynamics and entropy to the irreversibility of time, from Byron and poetry to landscape design and botany – ultimately arriving at man’s most fundamental ontological and epistemological questions regarding the very nature of life, death and reality itself. And if all that sounds daunting, never fear: Stoppard is such a literary genius that you’ll probably find him bringing more clarity to those subjects than you’re likely to have gotten from all the lectures and university courses in mathematics, physics and philosophy you may have attended over the years. And there’s little doubt in my mind that you’ll find Stoppard’s presentations far more entertaining to boot.

Arcadia, Stoppard’s masterwork, touches on all of the above and more and is widely recognized as one of the greatest plays of our time.  Originally produced at the Royal National Theatre in London in1993, it won the 1993 Olivier and Evening Standard Awards for Best Play that year. When the first New York production opened two years later, it won the New York Drama Critics’ Circle Award and was nominated for the 1995 Tony Award.  When it was revived in London, it received even more glowing reviews than it had 16 years earlier and a subsequent Broadway revival was equally successful.  And now the play is being revived by PTP/NYC (Potomac Theatre Project) in association with Middlebury College in a terrific off-Broadway production at Atlantic Stage 2 on West 16th Street in Manhattan.  Admittedly, one might assume that all those predecessor London and Broadway successes would be tough acts to follow but the PTC/NYC company has proved itself to be fully up to the task.

Arcadia is set in Sidley Park, a stately English home in both the years 1809–1812 and in the present (1993 in the original production and around the turn of the millennium in this latest revival).  In this production, it is In 1809 that Thomasina Coverly (Caitlin Duffy), a teenage prodigy, apprehends a number of remarkable mathematical and physical truths on her own, including the laws of thermodynamics, chaos theory and fractals, while her tutor Septimus Hodge, (Andrew William Smith), is engaged in an illicit romantic liaison with Charity Chater, the wife of Ezra Chater (Jonathan Tindle), a second-rate poet who, upon discovering his wife’s dalliances, challenges Septimus to a duel. (Hodge is also a friend of Lord Byron who, as it turns out, also is staying at the house at the time and who also gets to sleep with Charity.) (Neither Charity nor Byron ever actually appear in the play, but the importance of their roles cannot be overestimated.)

In the present, Hannah Jarvis (Stephanie Janssen), a writer, is investigating the history of a hermit who may once have lived on the Sidley Park grounds, while Bernard Nightingale (Alex Draper), a literature professor, is investigating the very period in the life of Byron when he was in Sidley Park. As matters unfold, the truths about what actually occurred in Sidley Park two centuries earlier is gradually disclosed and the play’s many mysteries are (at least partially) resolved.




Thursday, June 15, 2017

MY EYES WENT DARK Premieres at 59E59 Theaters

L-R: Declan Conlon and Thusitha Jayasundera in MY EYES WENT DARK.  Photo by Carol Rosegg.
Declan Conlon and Thusitha Jayasundera deliver two of the most outstanding performances in any of the several plays that comprise this year’s Brits Off Broadway program at 59E59 Theaters on East 59th Street in midtown Manhattan.  As Nikolai Koslov, a Russian architect who is driven obsessively to wreak vengeance upon Thomas Olsen, the air traffic controller whom he holds responsible for the death of his wife and children in an avoidable plane crash, Conlon performs with a cold, single-minded intensity that effectively succeeds in blurring the distinction between madness and sanity.  And in the role of Nikloai’s wife, Marya Koslov, as well as in the demanding roles of a whole host of other female characters who interact with Nikolai – including Katya (an eight year old girl), Dr. Geisinger (a trained psychiatrist), Helena (Thomas Olsen’s widow), Ms Weitner (an executive with Skyways, the air traffic control company that employed Olsen), and Yana (a woman who also lost her son in the plane crash) – Jayasundera displays an absolutely extraordinary range of acting talent.

My Eyes Went Dark, written and directed by Matthew Wilkinson, is an ambitious two-hander, inspired by true events, that played to sold-out audiences in London and Edinburgh and is currently enjoying its US premiere at 59E59 Theaters.  It is the tale of Nikolai Koslov, whose family died in a plane crash while en route to visit him in Nice.  As the facts emerge, it appears that the crash was not the result of terrorism nor mechanical failure nor pilot error, but rather was the consequence of misfeasance by Thomas Olsen, an air traffic controller with Skyways.  Clearly, Olsen and Skyways were at fault and should be held responsible, but are they morally or legally culpable as well for what was surely an honest mistake?

For Koslov the answer is an unequivocal “Yes!” and when Olsen is acquitted of criminal liability, Koslov is pushed to the breaking point.  Ultimately, he avenges the deaths of his wife and children by killing Olsen – but without premeditation and with no subsequent recollection of the event.  Which leads us to ask: if Olsen is not morally or legally responsible for the deaths he caused without premeditation and through honest human error, should Koslov be held morally or legally responsible for Olsen’s death which he caused without premeditation and, indeed, without even any memory of the event?

The playwright alludes to these questions but never resolves them and doesn’t even really pursue them with any persistence.  Similarly, he suggests that Koslov’s intense animosity toward Olsen might have been motivated as much by his own guilt feelings at having created a situation in which his family had to fly to visit him in Nice in the first place as it was by a truly objective indictment of Olsen’s behavior.  He raises the issue of whether Koslov was sane or insane when he killed Olsen and what difference that might make in determining his guilt or innocence.  And he alludes to all the standard PC issues re forgiveness, acceptance, and getting on with one’s life.

Wilkinson touches on all those matters but never really seriously addresses them and that is the play’s weakness.  My Eyes Went Dark turns out not to be particularly intellectually challenging, despite the questions it raises, because once raising them it doesn’t really do anything more with them.  The premise of the play is a valid one but the play itself could use a lot more editing and fleshing out.

And so my bottom line is this: the play itself is somewhat disappointing but the actors’ performances are phenomenal and those performances alone are justification enough for your seeing this one.



Wednesday, June 14, 2017

INVINCIBLE by Torben Betts Premieres at 59E59 Theaters

L-R: Emily Bowker, Graeme Brookes, Elizabeth Boag, and Alastair Whatley in INVINCIBLE.  Photo by Manuel Harlan. 
Emily (Emily Bowker) is a pretentious ultra-left-wing artsy socialist who advocates that all things be communal – not only businesses and the banks but also housing, healthcare, public utilities, public transport and even the raising of children.  Indeed, if she were an American, rather than a Brit, she’d probably consider Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren to be little better than reactionary Neanderthals.  She is opposed to all wars (she was raised by Quakers). She is opposed to the institution of marriage.  She is opposed to private school education.  She is opposed to inherited wealth.  In fact, there’s not much that she isn’t opposed to.  In short, she’s rather insufferable (and Emily Bowker portrays her brilliantly).

Her “partner,” Oliver (Alastair Whatley), with whom she has cohabited happily for years and who is the father of her children, is a much more realistic progressive: he is pragmatic enough to have re-joined the Labour Party since he realizes that, notwithstanding its shortcomings, it represents the only real means to take down the Conservatives.  And he is not at all averse to sending his children to private school if that’s what it will take to provide them with a proper education.  Emily considers him a sell-out.

Oliver and Emily are not married because Emily considers the institution of marriage to be nothing more than a medieval exercise and it offends her sensibilities.  Oliver does not have strong feelings on the subject but would like them to marry for his widowed mother’s sake.  She has but a few months to live and would very much like to see Oliver and Emily formally wed (even if not in a church) both for their and for her grandchildren’s sakes.  Emily will have none of it.

Oliver entered the Civil Service in an editorial capacity shortly after graduating from university and had been comfortably ensconced there ever since while residing (most recently with Emily) in London.  But due to the recession and England’s austerity program, he has been fired from his job which means that he and Emily can no longer afford to live in London.  (Of course they might have continued to live there had they been willing to rely on Oliver’s wealthy mother to subsidize them but Emily would have none of that either.  She is, after all, fiercely independent and certainly wouldn’t accept such ill-gotten gains as resulted from Oliver’s father’s banking career.)  So, instead, Oliver and Emily relinquished their London lodgings and relocated to a small town in northern England where housing costs are much lower than in London.  (Even there, they have chosen to rent, rather than buy, because of Emily’s disdain of property ownership.)  To be sure, they made the right economic decision - but it certainly was not the right social, personal, political or emotional one.

When we first encounter Oliver and Emily, they are settling into their new quarters and, in an effort to assimilate in their new environment, they have invited their married neighbors Alan (Graeme Brookes) and Dawn (Elizabeth Boag) to visit.  Emily is tidying up their home in anticipation of the arrival of her guests – which includes placing a copy of Karl Marx’s Das Kapital prominently on their coffee table and avoiding discussing the problem of their own sex life (or lack of it) with Oliver - a discussion which he is eager to pursue and she refuses to address.  The only breaks in her routine occur when she reacts (frequently) to imagined sounds from the baby monitor (which shares prominence with Marx on the coffee table) and insists that Oliver immediately check on their two-and-a half year old child who, as it turns out, invariably is sleeping soundly in the other room.

When Dawn arrives, she comes across as a bored, physically well-endowed, relatively uneducated, lower-class, part-time receptionist, exuding sexuality, flirting outrageously with Oliver, and rather dismissive of her own husband.  Alan shows up somewhat later since he didn’t want to miss the end of the football game on the telly.  (After all, England was playing!)  He is a cheerful, overweight, garrulous, beer-swigging postman and football aficionado whose “best mate” is his cat, Vince (named after the HMS Invincible which was the ship on which he served out his military duty).  He also is evidently much more in love with his wife than she is with him and can’t get over the fact that “a big fat slob” like him managed to land “a spectacular-looking woman like her.”

And so the scene is set.  Alan and Dawn are flag-waving patriots whereas Emily thinks that patriotism is “mindless.”  Alan lives for football and takes pride in the fact that he has traveled all over Europe to watch England play while Oliver has no real interest in the game and much prefers cricket.  And Emily’s antipathy to football is much greater than Oliver’s: she pontificates that

“…highly popular sports like football are nowadays merely a means of keeping people pacified, of keeping people stupid. The more time, money and energy a man spends watching football, for example, the less time, money and energy he has to read important books and to educate himself and to question this hideous economic system and therefore, one hopes, to realize he’s being taken for a fool every single day of his life.”

Alan’s “best bloody mate” is his cat; Emily hates the cat which she considers a threat to her children and their pets.  Emily paints Jackson Pollock-like abstracts to which she attaches such pretentious names as The Reunification of the Body and the Soul in a Time of Grieving; Alan paints realistic but not very good portraits of his cat to which he attaches such mundane titles as Vince Staring Out the Window and Vince With A Rat in His Mouth.

Unsurprisingly, the evening does not go well.  The cultural gap between Oliver and Emily on one side and Alan and Dawn on the other is just too great an abyss to cross.  But it does provide the material for a wonderfully entertaining first act.

It is in the second act of Invincible by Torben Betts, now making its US premiere as part of the Brits Off Broadway program at 59E59 Theaters on East 59th Street in midtown Manhattan, however, that everything comes together and that all the loose ends are tied up.  Only then do we learn why Emily is so compulsively focused on her baby monitor, why Alan and Dawn have nothing to say about their son other than that he is “away,” how it was that a “fat slob” like Alan ended up with a “spectacular-looking woman” like Dawn, why Dawn is so dismissive of Alan and yet abides him, whether Oliver will ever develop enough backbone to stand up to Emily and whether that would make any difference in their sex life.  Vince disappears and it his disappearance, which eventually is explained, that in one way or another ultimately triggers all the revelations.

By play’s end, we have also re-discovered deeper truths.  First impressions can be misleading and we learn that there is more both to Dawn and Oliver than initially meets the eye.  Elizabeth Boag does an excellent job of revealing the dreams and aspirations that the lower-class poorly educated Dawn still harbors in her soul.  And Alastair Whatley does a similarly fine job in exhibiting Oliver’s growth over time.

But perhaps the most important lesson to take away from the play is that it is absurdly arrogant for liberal elitists to label those who do not share their most pretentious values as nothing more than (in Hillary Clinton's words) “irredeemable deplorables.”  Graeme Brookes, who virtually steals the show as Alan, makes that abundantly clear.  When push comes to shove, it is Alan – the overweight, talkative, postman who doesn’t know Karl Marx from Groucho - who proves to have far more “class” than his “betters” when it really matters.

Friday, June 2, 2017

Red Bull Theater's Revival of Gogol's THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR at Duke Theater

L-R: Mary Testa, Michael McGrath, Michael Urie, and Talene Monahon in THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR.  Photo by Carol Rosegg.
Nikolai Gogol’s penned his satiric masterpiece, The Government Inspector, a comedic but scathing indictment of virtually all elements of Imperial Russian society in 1834 but its publication was greeted with such animosity by all those whom it lampooned – dissolute masters and their buffoonish servants, prevaricating medical practitioners, incompetent postal workers, corrupt judges, crooked bureaucrats, dishonest academics, and adulterous wives and their hypocritical daughters – that it required the personal intervention of Tsar Nicholas I even to get the play staged for the first time in 1836.  We’ve come a long way since then (haven’t we?) and this is the United States in 2017, not Imperial Russia, but corruption, bribery, misfeasance, stupidity and hypocrisy still run rampant in all too many of our institutions (a fact to which anyone who has had to deal with the IRS or the DMV or the medical or educational establishments might readily attest).  Which is why Gogol’s play remains one for the ages. 

Jeffrey Hatcher’s rollicking adaptation of The Government Inspector for Red Bull Theater is currently premiering at The Duke on West 42nd Street in midtown Manhattan.  It is the latest of that company’s string of classic revivals of which Red Bull may be justifiably proud. 
When the leading citizens of a small provincial town in Russia – including Anton Antonovich (Michael McGrath), the town’s corrupt Mayor;  the Judge (Tom Alan Robbins); the School Principal (David Manis); the Hospital Director (Stephen DeRosa); and the Police Chief (Luis Moreno) – learn that a government inspector, traveling incognito, is coming to their village to root out their corruption, all hell breaks loose.  They determine to pay him whatever bribes, or do whatever else it might take, to protect themselves from his wrath.  But first they have to find out who he is. 

The entire play then revolves around a case of mistaken identity.  Ivan Alexandreyevich Hlestakov (Michael Urie), is a dissolute, impoverished, narcissistic civil servant from St. Petersburg but he does have a vivid imagination.  When he and Osip (Arnie Burton), his servant, arrive in town, Hlestakov is mistaken for the dreaded government inspector, bribes and “loans” (never meant to be repaid) are thrust upon him.  Both Anna (Mary Testa), the mayor’s wife, and Marya (Talene Monohon), their daughter, throw themselves upon him as well and, for his part, he is quite as willing to accept their advances as he is to accept the bribes he receives.

Both Michael Urie and Michael McGrath are outstanding in their starring roles as Hlestakov and the Mayor, respectively.  Both Alexis Distler’s Set Design and Tilly Grimes Costume Design also deserve positive mention; they provide the perfect backdrop for this exuberant production.

Thursday, May 25, 2017

Olivier Award Winning ROTTERDAM by Jon Brittain Premieres at 59E59 Theaters

L-R: Anna Martine Freeman and Alice McCarthy in ROTTERDAM.   Photo by Hunter Canning.
When her boyfriend, Josh (Ed Eales-White), introduces Alice (Alice McCarthy) to his gay kid sister Fiona (Anna Martine Freeman), Alice can no longer remain in denial of the truth she has known but refused to admit even to herself since she was nine years old: Alice “likes” Fiona and doesn’t really “like” Josh in the same way.  In fact, Alice has always “liked” girls rather than boys.  In fact, Alice is a lesbian.

Fiona has been out of the closet for years but Alice still is not – and doesn’t come out fully even after they become lovers.  Oh, a few people know - including Josh, of course, with whom Alice remains close friends and Lelani (Ellie Morris), Alice’s young, gay, ditzy co-worker - but her parents don’t know and Alice is reluctant to tell them.  Indeed, the reason Alice has remained in Rotterdam for the past seven years has been to avoid returning home to England where she’d be forced to tell them.

And then, when Alice finally summons up the courage to e-mail her parents with the truth but before she manages to hit “send,” Fiona discloses that she has an even more momentous announcement to make: Fiona is transgender; she has always known that she is really a man and, while she may or may not ultimately opt to undergo transsexual surgical procedures, from now on she wants to live as one; her - or rather his - new man’s name is Adrian.

Alice and Fiona – I mean Adrian (or do I?) – are truly in love.  But how can that be?  If Alice is in love with Adrian and Adrian is a man, does that mean that Alice really isn’t a lesbian after all?  If Fiona was a woman (at least in Alice’s eyes) and Adrian is a man, are Fiona and Adrian really the same person?  Might Alice have been in love with Fiona and not now be in love with Adrian?  But how can that be if Adrian doesn’t really believe that he is changing but is only belatedly admitting to himself and others who and what he always has been?

And what of Josh and Adrian?  If Josh only lost Alice to Fiona because Alice was a lesbian and Fiona was a woman but Alice is no longer a lesbian and Fiona is now a man, does that mean that Josh has a second shot at wooing Alice?  And if Alice is still a lesbian and Adrian truly loves her, is he prepared to go back to being Fiona for her sake?

Rotterdam by Jon Brittain is a beautifully written play, not only heart-wrenching but highly entertaining, simultaneously dramatic, comedic, and thought-provoking.  It is a plea for greater understanding of the pain endured by many in the LGBTQ world but, even more than that, it is an exploration into the very nature of “identity.”

Is “identity” the core that is left when we peel away all the outer layers of race, sex, sexual orientation, ethnicity, and whatever biological or cultural traits we may express – what many might see as our fundamental selves, our essences, our spirits or our souls?  Or is it quite the opposite: is there no such core at all, is the idea of a “self” or a “soul” a mere illusion, and is it the sum total of all those outer layers – our race, sex, sexual orientation, ethnicity, and whatever other biological or cultural traits we may express – that constitute our true identities?

In Rotterdam, Jon Brittain may not answer all those questions – no one really could, certainly not to everyone’s satisfaction anyway – but he gives us lots to think about and that’s more than enough.
 
Ed Eales-White, in his role as Josh, conveys  warmth and sensitivity in his relationships both with his lost love, Alice, and with his kid sister, Fiona (now his kid brother, Adrian).  Ellie Morris as Lelni adds just the right comedic touch to this otherwise heartbreaking production as a gay naïf, all firecrackers and silver lame, who somehow manages to evade the advances of her boss – a married man twice her age and her father’s best friend – while yet benefiting from living rent-free with him and his family.  Alice McCarthy plays Alice with the perfect balance of propriety, loyalty, vulnerability, and uncertainty that the role demands.  And Anna Martine Freeman pulls off the toughest role of all: she is both lesbian Fiona and transgender Adrian – and she forces us to believe it.

Ellan Parry’s set design on a small stage that lesser designers might have found limiting also deserves recognition.  It is all primary colors and larger than life murals with doors leading in and out of unseen corridors, capturing the intensity of the emotional roller-coaster on stage.   And a cleverly concealed closet for coming in and out – both literally and figuratively.

Having played to sold-out audiences in London (where it won the prestigious Olivier Award), Rotterdam currently is making its US premiere as part of this year’s Brits Off Broadway program at 59E59 Theaters on East 59th Street in Manhattan.  I urge you to see it.



Friday, May 19, 2017

Mint Theater Revives THE LUCKY ONE by A. A. Milne

L-R: Robert David Grant and Ari Brand in THE LUCKY ONE.  Photo by Richard Termine.
A. A. Milne is best remembered as the author of Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner but he really was more than just a writer of children’s books.  He also wrote essays, light verse, short stories and novels; he contributed to and was an assistant editor of Punch; and he was a playwright of considerable renown, in England and in the US, with several successes both on Broadway and in London’s West End.

The Lucky One, however, was not one of Milne’s more successful works nor, sad to say, ought it to have been.  It is a rather tired treatment of the age-old conflict between brothers – the golden boy and his less-favored sibling - a story as old as that of Cain and Abel and of Jacob and Esau.  There is also the overlay that perhaps things are not quite what they seem and we really ought to try to see things from the other guy’s perspective, shouldn’t we?  It should come as no surprise then that when The Lucky One was first produced on Broadway in 1922, it closed after only 40 performances.
 
Now the Mint Theater Company, justifiably acclaimed as one of the finest off-Broadway theater companies in the city, has chosen to stage the first ever revival of this play at the Beckett Theater at Theatre Row on West 42nd Street in midtown Manhattan.  Since its founding in 1995, the Mint has been dedicated to the mission of unearthing and producing lost or neglected but worthwhile plays of the past and infusing them with new vitality and over the past two decades, it has staged superb revivals of seldom seen works by playwrights as diverse as Edith Wharton, Thomas Wolfe, D.H. Lawrence, John Galsworthy, Leo Tolstoy, Ernest Hemingway, and Arnold Bennett.
  
Now, from a theatrical standpoint, the Mint has scored another success with its revival of The Lucky One.  The performances, the direction, the set – all are exemplary as we have come to expect from the Mint.  It is only the play itself that is wanting.

The play is the tale of two brothers: Gerald Farrington (Robert David Grant) who is the golden boy, working in the Foreign Service and engaged to be married to the lovely Pamela Carey (Paton Ashbrook) and his older and less-favored sibling, Bob Farrington (Ari Brand) who works as a broker in The City and who is Pamela’s close friend.  The underlying animosity between the brothers only emerges when Bob finds himself in legal trouble and Gerald fails to save him.

The ultimate confrontation between the two has been described in the play’s promotional material as being “as stirring as it is surprising,” but I found it to be neither.  Indeed, I found it all to be much too predictable.

In Twice Times, a children’s poem, Milne wrote about

… Two Little Bears who lived in a Wood,
And one of them was Bad and the other was Good….

…And then quite suddenly (just like Us)
One got Better and the other got Wuss….

…There may be a Moral, though some say not;
I think there's a moral, though I don't know what.
But if one gets better, as the other gets wuss,
These Two Little Bears are just like Us…
.
And in Winnie-the-Pooh, Milne wrote:

On Wednesday, when the sky is blue, 
And I have nothing else to do, 
I sometimes wonder if it's true 
That who is what and what is who.

For my money, these scraps of children’s verse say it all – and in simpler and much more entertaining fashion than does the play.

Which, of course, is not intended to take anything away from the play’s cast.  Both Robert David Grant and Ari Brand were excellent in their roles as the ill-starred brothers as was Paton Ashbrook as Pamela.  And the rest of the company, including Wynn Harmon and Deanne Lorette as the parents; Cynthia Harris as the great-aunt; Peggy J. Scott as Gerald’s old nurse; and Michael Frederic, Andrew Fallaize, and Mia Hutchinson-Shaw as family friends certainly brought as much to their roles as the play’s limitations would allow.

In particular, I would single out for praise Andrew Fallaize, who provided much of the play’s comic relief in his role as Thomas Todd, Gerald’s golf-obsessed friend.

And so my bottom line is this: I really don’t think this play was worth reviving in the first place.  But given that it was, the Mint Theater Company did a fine job of it.


Monday, May 15, 2017

Sophie Melville Soars in IPHIGENIA IN SPLOTT

Sophie Melville in IPHIGENIA IN SPLOTT.  Photo by Mark Douet.
In Greek mythology, Iphigenia was sacrificed by her father, King Agamemnon, in order to placate the goddess Artemis, so that she would allow his ships to sail to Troy.  And it is that myth which inspired Gary Owen to write Iphigenia in Splott – the British play that scored such a resounding success in Cardiff and Edinburgh before opening to rave reviews and playing to sold-out audiences in London’s National Theatre.  Now the play has crossed the pond, debuting at 59E59 Theatres on East 59th Street in midtown Manhattan as part of this year’s Brits Off Broadway program and I have little doubt that American audiences will embrace it just as enthusiastically.

This is an extraordinary one-woman show, starring Sophie Melville as Effie, an irrepressible potty-mouthed “stupid slag” and “nasty skank” (to use her own words) who, often as not, can be found wandering the streets of Splott in Cardiff, with an “in-your-face” confrontational attitude toward everyone she meets.  In an incredibly powerful monologue, she lets us know in no uncertain terms that she is an alcoholic and a drug-user; that she is irresponsibly promiscuous; that she is dependent for her survival, at least in part, on her grandmother’s charity – and that she feels a sense of victimization at the hands of society about it all.

When Effie hooks up with Lee, a wounded war veteran who lost his legs to an IED in Afghanistan, she envisions her life changing dramatically.  But things don’t always turn out as one expects and the night Effie spent shagging Lee was just one of those things.  Yes, it affected her life deeply – just not as she imagined it would.

As a theatrical performance, Ms Melville leaves nothing to be desired.  She is physically as lithe as a feral cat and exhibits a comparable animal spirit.  Hers is a performance that truly deserves five stars.

But as to the play itself, and the message it seeks to convey, that is an entirely different matter.  It appears to me that Gary Owen is championing a world in which a sense of entitlement justifies individual irresponsibility and a reliance on “society” to fix everything and, since “society” didn’t fix everything for Effie, she was just as much a sacrificial victim as was Iphigenia. But the analogy is a false one.  Iphigenia was sacrificed by her father for his own failing (it was he who accidentally killed a deer in a grove sacred to Artemis for which he sought absolution, not through his own sacrifice but through that of his daughter).  But Effie has brought all her troubles on herself: “society” did not force her to drink or do drugs or engage in unprotected sex with strangers.  Her crises are of her own making, not of anyone else’s, and no sacrifice she might ultimately make as a consequence of her own misbehavior is comparable to Iphigenia’s.

I am well aware that many people disagree with me, that they prefer to blame “society” or “the man” or “the system” or “Wall Street” or “the top 1%” or anyone other than themselves for their problems.  Indeed, the press release itself for this production asserts that the play “drives home the high price people pay for society’s shortcomings.”  In his review of the National Theatre’s production for The Stage, Tom Wicker described the play as “a blisteringly powerful indictment of society’s failings….”  And Lyn Gardner, in her review for The Guardian, wrote: “Iphigenia was Agamemnon’s daughter, sacrificed by her father to ensure a fair wind to Troy and to further the ambitions of men.  But who are the Iphigenias of today, being sacrificed in the pursuit of growth and profit?  Seeing the heart torn out of your community and services cut is like having your tongue put out.”

If you happen to fall into that group of those who blame “society” for all their problems (I hope you don’t), then you will probably enjoy this production even more because, in addition to its being a bravura performance by a superb actress, it will reinforce your communal political philosophy.  But even if you don’t, if (like me), you still believe in individuals taking responsibility for their own lives, you’re still likely to appreciate Ms Melville’s terrific performance.