A.R. Gurney's plays often feature the same theme: the struggle to preserve the privileged White Anglo-Saxon Protestant way of life. At least that's what so many theatre critics write - and rewrite almost every time a Gurney play is produced. I come from a background that is anything but WASPish, but I have always found common ground among WASPs and various ethnic groups. People are people and share the same basic values, concerns, wishes and memories that are both good and bad. If there were human-like life on Mars, I am certain that many of them could relate to the stories in The Dining Room.
The setting is in what was an important gathering place in the home until show stopping kitchens with impressive stainless steel appliances and granite counters ruled as the heart of a home. Gurney's play would not work nearly as well in any room other than the dining room. It is a room that holds cherished family furniture and valuable collectibles. It is a chamber that holds secrets and memories, both good and bad. In one scene, it is a room that is like "a tomb." It is a part of the house that, depending on the parents, welcomes every member of the family and friend or keeps children out. And the stories of about 50 characters played by a superb ensemble of six actors are revealed in this dining room.
There are some really funny scenes that are timeless and cross all income and ethnic groups. "The government is ruining the country," claims a crusty conservative father. A housewife who may or may not be seeking an affair says that her husband is on a business trip to "Amsterdam or Rotterdam or who gives a damn." The anthropology student remarks that the pistol-handled knives that people of his aunt's milieu cherish have a subtle aggression. The psychiatrist who listens carefully to his architect describe his plans to turn the dining room into an office and reception area and have the family eat in the kitchen plans to send him his own bill. A woman is dismayed to learn that the dining room table that is showing wear and tear is not an expensive antique, but a mass produced table.
Throughout the 90 minute play, which has no intermission, the ensemble glides gracefully from role to role, portraying people whose ages range from childhood to old age. Although it is often painful to see adults playing children, the cast members were as lithe and spontaneous as the children they were portraying, and they were all too convincing of the wrenching pain of arthritis and dementia.
Mark Lamos directed the show with grace and respect and Keira Naughton, Charles Socarides, Heidi Armbruster, Chris Henry Coffey, Jake Robards, and Jennifer Van Dyck were all marvelous in their many roles.
The set design and lighting, which usually enthralls audiences at the Westport Country Playhouse, gets an A- because it was all grey. Furniture in the homes of the privileged was rarely painted and the monochromatic scene got tiresome quickly. Having toured many Vanderbilt homes and Newport mansions, I expected to see a highly polished table and matching chairs. Nevertheless, Gurney is always a treat and the performances and direction were first rate.
This revival ushers in the Westport County Playhouse's 83rd season and plays Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays at 8:00 p.m., Wednesday at 2:00 and 8:00 p.m., Saturdays at 3:00 and 8:00 p.m. and Sundays at 3:00 p.m. through May 18. 25 Powers Court, Westport. Call (888) 927-752 or visit www.westportplayhouse.org.
The Westport Country Playhouse wants your photos taken of you with your family and friends in your dining room to display in the lobby during the run of Gurney's play. You can share it on their Facebook page (Westport Country Playhouse), Instagram (WCPlayhouse) or via email (jmccool@westportplayhouse.org).
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