by Wendy Wasserstein
Directed by Jim Warren
A Harold Green Jewish Theatre Company Production
at the Jane Mallett Theatre
June 12-June 22, 2008
Hard to think of Wendy Wasserstein in posthumous terms, but the fact is that she died relatively young (at 55 from lymphoma), but what she had accomplished in her career is something to celebrate. For The Heidi Chronicles she won a Tony Award and a Pulitzer Prize, and for her The Sisters Rosensweig she won the Outer Critics’ Circle Award and a Tony nomination, in addition to gaining her second straight Broadway hit—a rare feat in recent times. What makes Rosensweig especially captivating, beyond the fact that it is smart and funny, is its delicate balance of comedy and drama in a manner that deliberately recalls Chekhov but without harping insistently on it. The obvious connection to Chekhov is in the exploration of three sisters and their individual quests. That they happen to be Jewish Americans is, of course, a defining difference from Chekhov’s trio, and that they often sound like characters out of Coward or Kaufman and Hart is another. They also do not yearn to go to Moscow, though Chekhov’s Moscow is, of course, metaphorical rather than simply literal. Like Olga, Masha, and Irina, the sisters Rosensweig have their own romances, and their bitter-sweet frustrations, jangled chords in life, and the sudden anarchy of comic missteps recall Chekhov’s preoccupations—not the least of which are questions of identity and self-fulfillment.
There are, as with Chekhov, notes of anxious yearning, self-loathing, and retreat or resignation, and, as with Chekhov, the challenge for a director and cast is to balance the comedy with touching dramatic truth. Wasserstein certainly writes parts that proliferate with possibilities. She creates women who are superficially witty or farcical—a sort of protective covering—while possessing an ability to reveal some throbbing need beneath this covering. Sara, the eldest sister, plays host to her other sisters in her well-appointed London flat. She is the only woman ever to head an international Hong Kong bank, and she is celebrating her 54th birthday. Twice divorced, and the mother of young Tess (named after Hardy’s heroine, though she is more of a young New Age Emma Goldman!), she is evidently assimilated, speaking with a well-enunciated English accent and having a relationship with an English peer, even while admitting to being a cold, bitter woman who has turned her back on her family, country, and traditions. Gorgeous, the middle sister, has evidently had good fortune. Married to an attorney, she is a suburban housewife and mother in Newton, Massachusetts, who dresses in faux high fashion and is a talk-show personality. The youngest sister is Pfeni, a travel writer whose personal life is far less enjoyable than is her globe-trotting. She hasn’t completed her serious book on the women of Tajikistan.
The sisters are uncommon and
linked only by sisterhood, but they are sometimes upstaged by the men in
their lives. Sara’s hope for intimacy and love comes unexpectedly from a man
who doesn’t at first seem to be her type: Zionist New York faux-furrier Merv
Kant, an unpretentious man who compels Sara to confront her own truth.
Pfeni’s romance is with a flamboyant bisexual English theatre director,
Geoffrey Duncan, while young Tess’ lust and political fire are sparked by an
expatriate Lithuanian boy who wishes fervently to return to his homeland and
witness its liberation.
The weekend party in Sara’s Queen’s Anne Gate, London flat is the central situation, and Jim Warren’s production has a beautiful, elegant Georgian house designed by Phillip Silver, down to a curved grand staircase, a dining room graced with a glorious chandelier, and a Sargent oil painting over the fireplace. Lori Hickling’s costume design also has merit, especially for Glorious, making character points while also addressing the “momentous” event of Sara’s birthday. The cast is excellent in general, emphasizing more of the emotional resonance than the Jewish humour, though Ms. Kash’s Gorgeous obviously relishes her opportunities to be broadly funny. Andrew Craig and Sara Farb make a good pair of young lovers, fervent with good political zeal, and Michael Hanrahan passes as an English gentleman with Thatcher starchiness. I wish that Steve Cumyn sharpened the deeper notes of Geoffrey instead of playing everything in a flamboyant almost camp manner, though Wasserstein’s script is chock full of musical “cabaret” acts that encourage ham. I also wish that Sara Dodd looked and acted less doughy as Pfeni, for though the actress acts with sincerity, she doesn’t leave a vivid impression. The best performances are Richard Greenblatt’s as Kant (because the actor isn’t pretentious or attempt to be ingratiating, and he has a beautifully tender scene with Ms. Dunsmore), Linda Kash’s as Gorgeous, deliriously ridiculous in her restlessly extravagant costume changes and interruptions, and Rosemary Dunsmore’s as Sara—a role that requires an artful Englishness and wry humour. Ms. Dunsmore has the most difficult role because she is required to show vulnerability beneath her sophisticated veneer, which she does splendidly in the sequence where while singing a parody of “MacNamara’s Band,” she allows her voice to crack, encapsulating her heartache in a single heartbeat.
If others in the cast were able to reach this level of character revelation, Jim Warren’s production would be first-rate. It is still good, though I feel that several of the performances need a little more punch to overcome the usual Canadian reticence about sharp emotional truths.
pic (L-R): Linda Kash, Rosemary Dunsmore, Sarah Dodd
photo:
Rachel McCaig
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