THE DAUGHTER LOSES
THE PHILADELPHIA STORY
Directed by David Kaye; written by Philip Barry
With: Sally Wood, Sarah McFarlane, Janis Stevens, Dennis Tiede, Jonathan
Miller, Erin Roberts, Jeffery Thomas, Paul L. Coffey; Joshua Scharback,
James Noel Hoban, Dustin Tucker, Scott Daigle
At The Theater at Monmouth in Monmouth, Maine
In repertory from July 5 to August 23, 2003
Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves
The poetic happens when you don’t have expectations.
—Gabriel Orozco
It seems that miracles abound in central Maine. In Waterville (population
circa fifteen thousand), there is Railroad Square Cinema, a movie theater
that specializes in foreign and independent films. I have written about how
lucky we are to have Railroad Square, and visiting directors and actors
remind us of this as well.
But just as extraordinary is The Theater at Monmouth located, appropriately
enough, in the town of Monmouth (population circa thirty-seven hundred).
Each summer for over thirty years, The Theater at Monmouth has brought
classical theater to central Maine. The emphasis has been on Shakespeare
(there are usually two of his plays per season) but we have also been
treated to Moličre, Chekhov, Sheridan, and many other wonderful writers.
Best of all, the quality of the acting and the directing is usually very
good, lively but professional.
The icing on the cake is Cumston Hall, where The Theater makes its home.
According to The Theater’s handout, Cumston Hall is “a grand Romanesque
Revival structure.” That doesn’t begin to describe the sheer magnificence of
this building, which is located smack-dab in the middle of a small, rural
community. There are turrets, stained-glass windows, and a tower, and the
large Hall stretches elegantly across the width of the lot. It’s a
beautiful, imposing but not unfriendly building, and it’s especially lovely
at night when the full moon rises above the tower.
Each year, The Theater presents a blend of comedies and dramas. Four plays
are performed in repertory throughout the summer, maintaining a balance of
tragedy and comedy. Keeping this in mind, I went to see The Philadelphia
Story and expected an amiable but light and rather silly play, similar
to You Can’t Take It With You, which was performed at The Theater
last year. However, as is so often the case, reality did not meet
expectation. While there is humor in The Philadelphia Story, it is a
dark, snarling humor that, in different hands (say, Henrik Ibsen or
Tennessee Williams), could have become a tragedy. And most certainly a
better play.
At this point, it is important to give fair warning. I will be discussing
crucial elements of the plot, and the ending will be revealed. Theatergoers
might want to see the play before reading this review.
Here’s the plot: Tracy Lord (played wonderfully by Sally Wood) is about to
be married to the respectable but dull George Kittredge. Tracy Lord, as
befitting her name, is “to the manor born,” and her family is part of the
old-moneyed aristocracy that the United States supposedly doesn’t have.
George, on the other hand, has gotten to the top through hard work,
self-reliance, and thrift. A self-made man, he has no time for fun and
games; he is just too earnest and useful.
Tracy’s younger sister Dinah (played by the excellent Sarah McFarlane) has
taken a particular dislike to George, and at the beginning of the play, she
schemes to reunite her sister with C.K. Dexter Haven, who is also to the
manor born. And, he just so happens to be Tracy’s ex-husband. Dinah invites
Dexter, who conveniently lives just down the road, to the pre-wedding
festivities, and the sparks, of course, fly between Tracy and Dexter. While
there are some genuinely witty and catty moments in their exchange, it is
here that we discover that all might not be as sunny and light as we initially
supposed it was.
Before the scene between Tracy and Dexter, Tracy is portrayed as a
high-strung, high-spirited, absurdly willful young woman with impossibly
high standards and the alarming habit of making one quip after another. In
short, she is clever but tiring.
Then, along comes Dexter, who accuses Tracy of literally driving him to
drink. Because of her rigid ways, he turned to the bottle and did things
that he shouldn’t have done. (Including, perhaps, hitting her.) She is to
blame for his downfall. She is to blame for the bad marriage.
After this bitter outburst, my sympathies began to shift toward Tracy. No
wonder she divorced Dexter! Clearly, Dexter is the sort of man who blames
others for his own bad habits, and Tracy is well rid of him. Respectable but
dull George starts looking better and better.
Interwoven with the relationship between Tracy, Dexter, and George is the
arrival of Mike Connor, a journalist, and Elizabeth Imbrie, a photographer.
Sandy, Tracy’s brother, has invited them to deflect attention away from Seth
Lord, the ne’er-do-well father, who has been too much in the news because of
his illicit love life. Initially, Tracy and Mike are contemptuous of each
other: Mike resents Tracy’s wealth and prestige, and Tracy quite rightly
resents the intrusion on her privacy.
However, when Tracy buys and reads a book that Mike has written, she
understands that he is a true artist with genuine talent. Her resentment
turns to admiration, and he, in turn, comes to admire her vibrant
personality. It is here we get a glimpse of the path Tracy might take as a way
out of her predicament, which is to be trapped between two inappropriate
men.
However, in a way that would make Edith Wharton or Henry James proud, the
plot conspires against Tracy. In fact, there are three inappropriate men in
her life, and unfortunately, that third person happens to be her father, who
has come home for the wedding.
There is a stunning scene where the high-strung Tracy lashes out against her
father and reproaches him for his neglect and bad behavior. But her father
can no more take responsibility for his actions than Dexter can. While Tracy’s
ineffectual mother watches, Seth strikes back at Tracy, accusing her of
being the one responsible for his infidelity. If Tracy had been warmer, more
loving, less cold, then he would not have been driven into the arms of
another woman. In other words, it is all Tracy’s fault that the family is in
such a mess.
By the time Seth (played with impeccable cold elegance by James Noel Hoban)
was done with his daughter, I was truly horrified, not only by his lack of
responsibility but also by the incestuous overtones of his accusations. I
began to feel sorry not only for Tracy, but also for Katherine Hepburn, who
played Tracy in the 1940s movie, and all the women of that era. To me, this
scene illustrates the nasty, misogynistic nature of The Philadelphia
Story, as well as the contempt that society at that time felt for women
and indeed the contempt the writer, Philip Barry, felt for Tracy.
After the scene between father and daughter, a writer trying to tell an
honest story could have done two things: he could have ended it happily by
having Tracy break away from her monstrous family (and the equally monstrous
Dexter, who is a reflection of her father) and go off with Mike. Or, he
could have ended it by showing how both Dexter and George are flip sides of
the same coin, each man an unhappy choice for Tracy, who has been
irreparably damaged by her father. And then, of course, have her
disastrously end up with either Dexter or George. It really doesn't matter
which man Tracy marries; one is as bad as the other.
Instead, Philip Barry takes a third route, and it is an abominable one. He
makes it clear that Tracy is indeed in the wrong, that to be happy (and by
implication, to make the men in her life happy), all she needs to do is to
get drunk and lighten up. This she does and then sees the error of her
priggish ways. Tracy rejects not only the stuffy George but also Mike, the
one man who sees her as a real person. She tumbles happily into Dexter’s
arms. All is forgiven. All is forgotten. Exit with a laugh.
Except I wasn’t laughing. By the end, I felt as though I had been slapped
across the face, and my daughter felt the same way. However, all around us,
elderly people were laughing. They found this play immensely amusing. They
even said so. It is obvious that they saw it in a different light than my
daughter and I did.
Clearly, there is only one response: go to this play and see what you think.
The acting is excellent—there isn’t one weak moment—and so is the pacing.
Even if you’re as outraged as my daughter and I were, it will be worth the
trip.
