Brett Williams
Beleaguered Tobias (Carl Cawthorne, left) with his best friend Harry (Jim Chiolino).
Some great writers lean heavily on their unhappy childhoods to create their art. They have done us a great service by allowing us to be voyeurs in their miserable homes, instead of asking us to join them for dinner. The manipulations and machinations of Edward Albee’s dysfunctional family are on full display in Strollers Theatre’s well-constructed production of his Pulitzer Prize-winning play, A Delicate Balance, at the Bartell Theatre through Sept. 30.
As the play opens, Agnes (an uptight Judy Kimball) launches into a monologue, pondering if she might lose her mind one day, and then wondering if that might not be so bad. Her husband Tobias (Carl Cawthorne) listens perfunctorily as he reads the paper and pours himself a drink.
Then Agnes’ outspoken alcoholic sister Claire (Rebecca Raether) enters. The bright spot in a dark story, Raether breaks the tension and steals focus in almost every scene, covering up her character’s misery with a laugh, or an impromptu song on the accordion. She mocks her moralistic sister and admits that she’s made many poor decisions — quitting Alcoholics Anonymous, jeopardizing her health by imbibing a steady stream of liquor and sleeping with other women’s husbands. The easygoing Tobias asks her to be good while fixing her another martini.
Finally Agnes and Tobias’ daughter Julia (Carrie Sweet) returns home after yet another marriage has gone awry. The moping and sullen daughter has made one bad match after another; each time it happens she whines about her “rights.”
That’s a houseful, with angst aplenty. But then the couple’s best friends, Harry and Edna (a milquetoast Jim Chiolino and a feisty Patricia Kugler Whitely), come knocking, looking absolutely terrified. They announce they are scared to be in their home — dreading something that has no name. When they actually move in, angst meets absurdity, and that eventually uncovers truth. Like any Albee play, there is also quite a bit of drinking involved.
While Julia stomps and pouts about being put out of her bedroom, Agnes fumes about the disorder in the house, which she views as a disease. Harry and Edna bring in more suitcases and lecture the others like they own the place, while Claire fixes herself another drink and revels in watching others’ lives unravel from the sidelines.
All of this allows Tobias to emerge as an unlikely protagonist. His journey, imbued with subtlety and substance by Cawthorne, begins with a detachment and general disdain for his family and ends with an existential questioning of the nature of love. Shouldn’t his house be a place for people to weather storms — real or imagined? Cawthorne’s performance helps this moment of truth soar, instead of ringing hollow.
On an emotional level, this production is an accomplishment. On a technical level, it deserves better stagecraft. Long blackouts between scenes grind the storytelling to a halt and a lack of masking lets the audience clearly see all the actors enter and leave the theater when they are supposed to be safely offstage. It’s clunky and distracting, which is a shame, because what’s onstage is really worth our full attention.
