The Middle Ages
Written by A.R. Gurney
Directed by Ike Schambelan
Kirk Theatre at Theatre Row
410 West 42nd Street
212-279-4200
Review by Christopher Zara
It’s tempting to write off A.R. Gurney as a WASP Woody Allen, particularly after
seeing The Middle Ages, one of the playwright’s earlier, less-focused works. Set
in the trophy room of a high-society men’s club, the play spans three decades in
the lives of four restless souls as they lament every modern bane of the upper
crust: disapproving parents, disappointing children, failed courtships, failed
marriages and, finally, a failed community. Like Allen, Gurney unfurls his
cultural neuroses in a way that both pokes fun at and pays homage to his genetic
lineage. Both writers seem to ask themselves the same question: “Why the hell am
I so screwed up?” And both seem to agree that family should take most of the
credit.
However, unlike Allen’s post-“Manhattan” opus, Gurney’s Middle Ages has a way of
sticking with you long after its clever gags have worn off. His uppity
characters, though not the sort we commoners would care to associate with in the
real world, realistically capture the unpleasant process of going from young to
not so young. When we first meet Barney and Eleanor (Terry Small and Marilee
Talkington), they have already gone through this transformation. They are
bitter, middle-aged and lonely — and embroiled in a bickering match over the
details of Barney’s father’s funeral. The two obviously share a long and
complicated history, and their apparent lack of tolerance for each other makes
it difficult to care about either one.
But before we know it, we’re transported back three decades to a time when, in
the same trophy room, a teenaged Barney and Eleanor first lay eyes on each
other. Eleanor, a shy girl from the sticks, ducks into the room to escape a
party and the pressures of socializing. There she discovers Barney, a bratty but
charming rich kid whose white-bread brethren have practically built the club.
The two share an instant attraction, exchanging good-natured jabs and
flirtatious glances. As we watch them effortlessly connect, we’re forced to
think about the embittered drips we know they’ll become, and we wonder which of
life’s many soul-crushing mechanisms will be most responsible for taking them
from point A to point B. Gurney’s answer is clear: It’s the parents, stupid. And
while Barney’s father (George Ashiotis) and Eleanor’s mother (Melanie Boland)
are both well-intentioned, their refusal to allow Barney and Eleanor the liberty
of choosing their own paths results in a lifetime of discontent for all
involved.
As presented by Theater Breaking Through Barriers, Middle Ages is an effective
meditation on the universal strangeness of family. Small and Talkington are
wonderful as the central couple, hitting all the right notes in Barney and
Eleanor’s pivotal transformation from wide-eyed teens to disheartened adults.
Small is particularly spot-on as the younger Barney, who can’t separate his
heart from his hormones. Boland, as Eleanor’s opportunistic mother, finds the
right balance between parental concern and parental control, and Ashiotis has
moments early on as Barney’s father, though he seems less committed to his role
as the play progresses.
Midway through the first act of Middle Ages, Eleanor’s mother explains to her
teenage daughter that being an adult means learning how to pretend. Whether
Gurney believes we pretend for our own sake or the sake of others is unclear,
but he understands the pathetic creatures we become when we pretend for too
long.
(c)
2008 Show Business Weekly
