Pulitzer Prize winner Paula Vogel (How I Learned to Drive) has written a bitingly funny and unflinchingly honest new play about the hold our family has over us and the surprises we find when we unpack the past.
It’s 1962, just outside of D.C., and matriarch Phyllis (Jessica Lange) is supervising her teenage children, Carl (Jim Parsons) and Martha (Celia Keenan-Bolger), as they move into a new apartment. Phyllis has strong ideas about what her children need to do and be to succeed, and woe be the child who finds their own path. Bolstered by gin and cigarettes, the family endures — or survives — the changing world around them. Blending flares of imaginative theatricality, surreal farce, and deep tenderness, this beautiful roller coaster ride reveals timeless truths of love, family, and forgiveness.
With their underwritten parts, Parsons gives us flamboyance and occasional anger, while Keenan-Bolger mostly serves as our quiet and patient guide. But it is Lange who stands at the center, giving a performance that throughout is full of nuance as she portrays this complicated mess of a woman. At one point, we are even allowed to hope for a genuine change in Phyllis's deeply embedded homophobia. But she is who she is, and even with whatever magical thinking Vogel has applied to her portrait, there is precious little redemption to be found here, except, perhaps, in the lessons that her daughter Martha, presumably the playwright's stand-in, has accrued. And maybe that's the raison d'être for the play itself: understanding and forgiveness.
At times it seems like Vogel has been inspired by Tennessee Williams’ The Glass Menagerie. At other times—with that problematic mother losing composure during a series of revealing telephone calls, that ignored and emotionally damaged daughter, that son itching to leave home and go out into the dangerous world—it seems like Vogel is consciously giving us an updated version of what might or could have happened to those forlorn Wingfields had they, and Williams, existed 30 years later. In any event, Vogel’s play and players merit a visit to the Helen Hayes. Only not as a Mother’s Day treat for dear old mom.
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