Heading in for what was to be two and a half hours of Eugene O'Neill last night at A.C.T.'s Geary Theater, I was bracing for some arduous and heavy early Twentieth Century theater-going. But the new production of Ah, Wilderness directed by Casey Stangl is, in fact, a pretty delightful, comedic family drama that, especially by O'Neill standards, is uproariously funny. It is considered the playwright's only notable comedy, in fact, and Stangl directs her cast, which is anchored by some repertory company vets, with comic skill and spot-on timing that adds more laughs than even O'Neill likely knew were in the script.
The play centers on Richard Miller, a dramatic, passionate, poetry-obsessed teenager of 17 in the summer before his senior year in high school, a middle child in a Connecticut family that's neither rich nor poor, in an unnamed seaside town in 1906. The play was written in 1933 looking back on this this more innocent, morally nervous, highly conservative moment when O'Neill was Richard's age (and summering with his family in New London, CT), however he insisted that save for a few small details, the play is not autobiographical at all.
As Richard, A.C.T. MFA student Thomas Stagnitta gives a disarmingly earnest, dynamo performance that carries the play through its more quotidian ups and downs. The character, lovelorn over a young woman named Muriel whom we don't meet until the final act, his young mind on fire with the words of great writers, is both the dramatic and comedic center of the play, though he only may spend a little over half of it on stage. He rages to himself and his family, quotes liberally from his favorites poets and playwrights, including Ibsen, Wilde, and Swinburne, and sometimes takes to internal monologue that's made external. And it's a testament to Stagnitta's obvious talent that O'Neill's intent for the character shines and his dramatic pronouncements ring true to modern ears despite some dialogue that can sound, at turns, a bit dated in its golly-gee guilelessness.
Richard has several eye-opening, coming-of-age moments within the 48 hours in which the play takes place over the July 4th holiday some of which he comes to on his own, and a few of which come from his sensitive and similarly bookish father Nat, played with precise tone and softness by ACT resident artist Anthony Fusco. Also standouts in the cast are CalShakes regular Dan Hiatt as the sometimes drunk uncle Sid, bringing excellent physical comedy skill to the part; and Rachel Ticotin as Richard's loving, anxious pushover of a mom, Essie.
The production's look and feel is also a huge asset, with a diaphanous set by designer Ralph Funicello that morphs and disappears as needed, but also functions as a cool contemporary alternative to the heavy drawing room set-pieces that one would typically see used for a play like this.
While I liked both Stangl's interpretation of O'Neill's comedy, and his often beautiful language, and the glimpse we're given into this moment in time when the nation at large was extraordinarily nervous about the scourge of alcohol and a perceived slip into moral oblivion, the success of the show feels like it falls to the actors themselves. This is a play that takes its time showing its hand and unraveling its story, which is ultimately a small and personal one that has little to do with the societal tensions that surround it. And without the proper tone and the strength of the performances especially Stagnitta's, with its virtuosic range between adolescent rage, remorse, terror, curiosity, tenderness, heartbreak, and intellectual arrogance it could easily feel like a museum piece. And it definitely does not.
Ah, Wilderness might be a bit of an endurance test in these short-attention-span times, but it's a lovely ride that deserves your patience and time, and will pay off with the sort of pathos you only get from great plays.
Ah, Wilderness plays through November 8 at A.C.T. Find tickets here.
