Remy Bumppo's "Mourning Becomes Electra"

Tackling "Mourning Becomes Electra" by Eugene O'Neill is an intimidating proposition for any director. The play, in its original incarnation, clocks in at over 4 hours, features murder, incest, suicide, adultery and enough purple O'Neill prose to make "A Long Day's Journey into Night" look like an enjoyable afternoon stroll. It's a story of family, blood and fate based on Aeschylus' The Oresteia, the action moved to New England during the immediate aftermath of the American Civil War, and O'Neill's obsession with dysfunctional, co-dependent families and Freudian psychology only add to the play's dense, violent pedigree. That Timothy Douglas chose this play to be his first as Remy Bumppo's new Artistic Director suggests that his tenure will be a bold and a fearless one.

Unfortunately, the production itself lands with a bit of a thud. This is not entirely the fault of Douglas or his resilient cast as the play itself comes with a few major problems of its own. Working from an adaptation by Gordon Edelstein that shortens and condenses the play to a trim three-and-a-half hours, the actors are nonetheless still required to navigate O'Neill's often stilted dialogue. This is a play where large amounts of exposition are deposited abruptly and without shame into early scenes, leaving the actors straining to maintain a natural air. Also, it becomes quickly becomes apparent that the Oresteia's tale of lust and vengeance resembles nothing so much as a modern day soap opera: complete with scheming wives, strapping lovers and overly convenient heart conditions. When presented as epic Greek poetry, this kind of tale takes on mythic proportions. When presented in everyday prose, it just seems kind of silly.

When the story begins, the war has just ended and Mannon women, Christine (Annabel Armour) and her daughter, Lavinia (Kelsey Brennan) are awaiting the return of the Mannon men: Christine's husband Ezra (David Darlow) and their son Orin (Scott Stangland). Lavinia is eager to see her beloved father whereas Christine is not, probably because she's recently taken up with strapping sea captain/estranged Mannon cousin Adam Brandt (Nick Sandys). Christine and Brandt soon hatch a plot to murder Ezra upon his return, a plan that Lavinia is all too aware of and determined to stop. So begins the chain of violence that will consume the Mannon family and lay bare a host of psychological complexes.

For the first two acts, which comprise approximately two-and-a-half hours run time, the plot and characters feel too pro forma. O'Neill is at his best when he's plumbing the dark, self-destructive recesses of the human psyche. But here he's simply strung together a simple murder-revenge plot. It isn't until the wonderful third act––when the horrible ramifications of what Orin and Lavinia have done in the name of "justice" start to catch up with them¬¬––that the play finally kicks into high gear. It's nice to see a show that finishes strong, but when there's been two-and-a-half hours of sub-par lead-up to only forty five minutes of pay off, one feels a little cheated.

As for the individual performances, Sandys shines as the arrogant but tormented Brandt. He brings the gravitas and charisma that are required for O'Neill's characters plus he walks like he's John Holmes. But the other performers, on the whole, all fall into similar traps: they lack specificity or nuance in their performances, leave their arms dangling at their sides and will often settle into a three-quarters-volume shout that they then maintain for the majority of their scenes. Stangland does some nice work as the war-haunted mamma's boy, Orin but can too often get lost in his own Post-traumatic murk. Brennan however deserves great credit for embodying Lavinia's third act transformation into (who else?) her mother. Lavinia is the character upon whom the play turns and Brennan's frighteningly assured performance in Act III is principal reason, other than the writing, that the final act is the sweetest.

The production is staged alley-style with the audience on each side facing each other and the performers in the middle. The set design by Tim Morrison is spare but elegant, with gorgeous floorboards and not much else making up the principal acting area and then Greek-style columns lining the rear wall. The columns especially are a nice touch, suggesting the wealth and elegance that the Mannon's (at least on the surface) represent as well as tying the action back to its original Greco roots. However the wide-open playing area leads to a great deal of wishy-washy staging on the part of Douglas. When actors aren't planted firmly in place––usually very far apart––they have a tendency to wander somewhat aimlessly. And while the lighting design by Stephen T. Sorenson is properly moody and effects most of the scene changes, the actors would sometimes walk out of their light. Composer and Sound Designer Victoria Deiorio lays down an appropriate score of menacing strings and ominous bass, even if occasional hiccups in cueing lessened the intended effect.

All in all, the production is not quite a success but it is by no means a failure either. The final act of this production stands as a testament to Eugene O'Neill's enduring power and also as a hopeful harbinger of good times to come for Remy Bumppo under Douglas' reign. It's good enough that the show ultimately breaks even. Which is a good thing for Remy Bumppo because there are another two acts before it that might lead some to worry: for both Douglas and O'Neill.

Reviewed by Alex Huntsberger Oct. 5, 2011