• Orpheus Descending

6/9/19 (Sun), London Menier Chocolate Factory

Revival of an infrequently produced and much-rewritten Tennessee Williams play of 1957. A hunky 30-year-old wanderer and troubadour named Val finds his way into a general store run by the hard-minded Lady, a woman trapped in a small-minded Southern town and a loveless marriage. She is haunted by the death of her father, an Italian immigrant, at the hands of racist townsmen twenty years earlier, who set fire to his beloved establishment after he served black customers. Something inside of her having died as well, Lady has remained in the town unemotionally running the store with her callous husband. The husband is now dying of cancer, and Lady, though wary of the young Val, agrees to hire him to help mind the store. His presence reawakens her repressed passion, as things go in these plays, and her feelings are sharpened further by the revelation that it was her husband who led the riot against her father that caused his death. Lady, with a new life literally growing inside her (after an apparent night of fun), asks Val to take her away. The result is not pretty.

The Southern gothic play uses the hoary device of a narrator, who also serves here as vagrant looming ominously over proceedings and occasionally performing American Indian chants. (He is played by a black actor, but I think he’s supposed to be a native American.) Williams’ gossamer phrasing works as dialogue but is pompous as narrative; that bit should be excised. They can also take away that bit with the woman who sees visions. A bit too much attempted profundity here.

Still, the story itself is compelling and, if over the top, credible as presented here. The author has moreover created fascinating characters, especially two juicy roles for the lead actors. Hattie Morahan (so good in A Doll’s House) is spectacular as Lady; her transformation from weary cynical storekeeper to a woman desperate for life is incredibly moving. Seth Numrich, the only American actor in cast, offered just the right amount of swagger in his movement and speech, including a great telling of the story of the tiny legless bird that spent its entire life on the wind. Jemima Rooper as the town’s bad woman is memorable as well among an all-around strong cast, all with perfect Southern accents. Director Tamara Harvey keeps things simple, with a single set using tables, occasional props and atmospheric lighting, more than sufficient to set the mood. The show’s reputation may have been hurt by the leaden film version; this production is definitive. It may be minor Williams but, heavy metaphors aside, major almost anyone else. A terrific show.