March 7–14, 1996

critical mass|theater

A Month in the Country

Simply Classic Theatre Co. at St. Stephen's Community House, 10th and Ludlow,through March 17, 893-1145.

Much of Turgenev's 19th-c. Russian play, A Month in the Country, is charming, and much of this production is fine, but it really should be called "A Month in the Theatre." (I tried to resist, but I just couldn't.) Boyohboyohboy is it slow and static. And if anybody doesn't believe translation is an art form, just watch what happens here when director Gage Johnston, using Pamela Lackie's literal translation from the Russian, tries to create dramatic dialogue. Oddly, everybody seems to say everything twice — as if two versions of the scene or exchange had been tried out and then somebody forgot to eliminate one. It is extreeeeemely tedious.

Turgenev is usually regarded as a precursor to Chekhov, with the same huge country estates, the elegant and the provincial guests (the requisite doctor, the young innocent, the mismatched lovers, the clumsy landowner, the prim governness) and the same languid walks and talks. But where Chekhov gives us characters, Turgenev gives us situations; where Chekhov gives us irony, Turgenev gives us quips.

The situation in A Month in the Country is this: the central figure is a pretty, rich, self-absorbed matron (Jessica Hendra) who falls in love with her son's young and robust tutor (Jeffrey Coon) who is loved by a sweet young girl (Jennifer Childs) who is an orphaned ward of the household. The wife is adored by a family friend (Anthony Lawton), while her preoccupied husband (Rob Napoli) ignores the advice his mother (Deborah Seif) tries to give him about his marriage. There are various matchmaking plots involving the doctor (Gary Tucker) and the ladies' companion (Mary Jackman). The actors — particularly Childs and Tucker — lend life to the proceedings, but Laura Frazure's set design, while imaginative, intensifies the feeling of watching the play through the wrong end of the telescope — miniaturizing and distancing everything (and I was on the first row).

The experience of the spectator is not unlike the experience of the characters living their inconsequential lives: Circumstances remain inconclusive, emotions unresolved and conversations interrupted; hearts are broken and secrets are revealed. Time — both in the country and in the theater — passes slowly.

— Toby Zinman