LUCIDMEDIA

Stratford Festival: The Glass Menagerie

Written by Sebastian Frye Monday, 04 June 2007 05:00

Since its Broadway opening in 1945, The Glass Menagerie has had enough productions so that most people have seen at least one version of the play which established Tennessee Williams as one of the 20th century's most sensitive and poetic playwrights. On a Tuesday afternoon I was scheduled to see the Stratford Festivals version of the Glass Menagerie.

The Great Depression time frame and constant talk about old maids and gentlemen callers may give The Glass Menagerie the dated feel of an album with sepia photographs in little stick-on mountings, but the familial patterns of mid-life disappointments and children coping with parental expectations are as persistently timely — especially in a society rife with single parent households like the Wingfields More than anything, The Glass Menagerie still resonates no matter how it's staged and where because it features four of Williams' most unforgettable characters: Amanda Wingfield, the Southern belle who is in a perpetual state of denial and anxiety about the life she is living as a result of choosing poorly among her many "gentleman callers"; Tom, the would-be poet son on whose sliver-thin income she relies; Laura, her crippled daughter who's as fragile emotionally as the little glass animals she collects; and the Gentleman Caller Tom is badgered into bringing home for his sister

Tom is the first member of the Wingfield family that we meet, and he presents himself doubly: as a member of the family, within the past, as well as the plays ongoing narrator, in the present. Soft violins and a piano ,recorded previously and projected through speakers in the theatre, play as Tom pushes two translucent curtains aside. The soft yellow and amber lights brighten on the family as they sit and pray at the table before eating. They begin to eat and immediately Tom's mother, Amanda Wingfield, is introduced. She orders Tom to do one thing or the other, to chew his food, not to slouch, etc., and then goes off on her memories of what it was like living life as a southern belle - constantly getting "gentleman callers" and having to treat each one of them with dignity and respect. One time, she had to entertain fifteen gentleman callers, and this seems to be a highlight of her previous life.

During the moonlit monologue at the start of Tom's address, we are foretold that there are five characters in the play; one that is expected "like all good things" and one that is never present, but whose picture ever presently watches the family from the wall. The latter is the father, a man who stole Amanda's heart with a mere grin but whose relationship with "long distance" caused him to abandon the family. In this production his presence is highly underplayed. When Amanda is left to speak about him, or when his picture glows orange like a ghost, there is no sense of emptiness. Amanda speaks of him quite highly and holds no grudge against him for leaving; she is hardly as distraught as one might expect.

The character, though, whom the play revolves around is the understated Laura, played mechanically by Sara Topham. Laura is Tom's older sibling but acts as though she may still be a child, lost in the world. In the play's second scene we discover an emotionally crushed Amanda come in just as Laura is shining her glass animals and listening to her victrola. It seems Laura was registered in a business class to open opportunities for her future, but when Laura got too nervous and vomited in the class she left and never came back. It turns out she would simply walk around town, sometimes through the park, and bear the cold winter winds just so she could deceive her mother for a little longer. Amanda is severely disappointed and discouraged; hopeless about her daughter's future.

As the play progresses we learn that Tom is the underlying restlessness of the family. Tom wishes to be a poet. During the play he works at a warehouse and goes out to 'the movies' most every night, then finds himself coming home drunk and stumbling into the home early in the morning. Tom throws several adolescent tantrums which are also fairly understated. Experienced actor Steven Sutcliffe plays the character very well, but sometimes focuses too much on his role as our lantern through the play, rather than just another character within the family. His fits don't exactly make your hair stand on end with their intensity, and leave the audience more perplexed than startled. We never are to learn what Tom writes, but that he does so very privately, and we only get a glimpse into his fancies in his monologues scattered throughout the play. We do know though, that he dreams of leaving, just like the man on the wall.

The play never seems to take off and imbed itself into your psyche like the content of the play is capable of doing. The characters float helplessly, stuck in their own worlds, and only enter each others' spaces when they share similar goals, which is part of the selfishness of the family. But when standing against their own evils, the characters come off more airy than dark. The production as a whole had the same sort of lightness about it (once again this could have been the afternoon drama speaking, but should every performance not be equal?). The set didn't seem to add to the dramatic effect much either. The set was the family's apartment, separated into a dining room, an unseen kitchen, a tiny living room, and the outside stairs leading down to an unseen street. Up above this decorative living space stood the silhouettes of

girders and a pale steel colored sky, reflecting St. Louis in the 30's. The entire production seemed to hark back none to the infliction that plagued the minds of Americans during this time. Perhaps it was meant to relay the cocoon-like nature of the family; their inability to see reality, only their own ambitious fantasies. But even Tom, who had the most grip on what was going on, seemed somehow detached from his reality. Once again though, I can only speak from pure in-experience and only conjure up my imagining of the play, where Laura would be the brightest light for the audience.

Several moments, which were crucial in the development of the play were the finale with Laura and her gentleman caller, played by Matthew MacFadzean, and also the uproarious scrambling that Tom prolongs when his mother finds out that this very gentleman caller is coming the very next night. Both of these moments occur during the second half of the play, and by then it's too late. The 'more' that the audience wants cannot be delivered. The first half rang too long, the second half, too short.

The play is much too good to make a entirely awful production, and really, Stratford is much too good a company to produce an entirely awful production. But the shortcomings shine indefinately and pale what could have been a truly excellent adaptation. Miles Potter, the director, took the right turns in keeping the play relevant to today's audience, but sacrificed some of the depth which cannot simply be assumed by previous viewers of the play and observant first-timers. Unlike the best moments of Tennesee's productions, the characters are deflated and didn't electrify the sparks of the heart, the way the play is so capable of doing.

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