For an intellectually stimulating evening of theater, turn to Resonance Ensemble’s crisp and elegant production of The Glass House by June Finfer. Produced in tandem with The Master Builder, Henrik Ibsen’s classic of similar theme, the two plays are meant to reflect and respond to one another. The company describes both pieces as about “architects whose personal and professional life become dangerously intertwined as they struggle to balance idealism and integrity with functionality and finance.” It sounds like a perfect symbol of any great undertaking. Resonance Ensemble’s unique approach to theater invites the audience to consider the plays as Part I and II of the same event. However, this review will only cover The Glass House.

The play examines the intersection between the commissioned artist, and the commissioner. Based on renowned architect, Mies van der Rohe, and his complex relationship Edith Fansworth, a World War II physician. In between them is Philip Johnson, an unfortunately charismatic aspiring architect who introduces them. In the opening scene, it is 1945 and Edith and Philip are discussing her wish to build a small, but important weekend house in the Modern style; she tells him “I want to live in a work of art.” David Bishins employs a distinctly World War II era vocal effect as something we might recognize from an old Humphrey Bogart movie. Though it is off-putting at first to hear this kind of speech pattern today, ultimately this choice contributed to a subtle, but effective backdrop of time-period for the play. With simple pared down design for the production that reflects the subject matter of the Modernist aesthetic, the most effective signal of passing time are the ever rotating selection of cocktails.

Janet Zarish’s performance of Edith Farsworth brings an understated elegance and charm to the role. Thanks to her careful acting choices, Edith is equally matched with her counterpart. The scene when Edith propositions Mies to build her house, is well constructed and Zarish gives a layered performance that shows us what Edith yearns for, as well as her polite mask in front of Mies. The distinguished Harris Yulin seems born to play the part of Mies van der Rohe. He is reserved and witty, yet reveals glimmers of true passion for architecture. Conversely, the character of Laura, played by Gina Nagy Burns was the third point of the love triangle between Edith and Mies. Burns’ performance does not match her cast mates in terms of energy or depth, but that is mostly due to the fact that Finfer construction of her character remains under developed with flaccid dialogue and throwaway lines. When Laura tells Mies, “I need time,” it feels forced and empty. Thanks to a strong ensemble cast of well-seasoned actors, the story was easy to follow. They were comfortable with the material, and easy to watch.

Playwright June Finfer does not overcomplicate her play with multiple plotlines. Since the romantic thread of this play is, as Mies refers to it, about as intimate as “shaking hands,” the real drama lies in the power play between the artist and the commissioner. Their inevitable progression from business partnership to romance is evident from the start. When Mies asks her to recite one of her poems, she recites an inane and all together unoriginal poem about a chickadee. It is almost as if he is testing her own artistic inclinations to be sure that his relationship with her will not follow the same course as with Laura. We later find out that he is getting a taste of her aesthetic, and planning his attack. At one point, Edith goes to visit Laura to try to commission a sculpture. She tells Laura “it’d hard to make a living as an artist.” Laura aptly responds, “It depends on how you want to live.” It takes the construction of the glass house for Edith to realize that it is precisely that idea that she is uncertain of.

The union between architect and client is further accelerated by the intimacy associated with being brought into her private space, the construction of her home. Edith states up front that she would like this to be an important house, obviously a reflection on how she would like to be viewed, and the legacy she wishes to leave behind. Justifiably then, Edith reflects her inclination for the Modern style, marked by clean, unadorned, and uncluttered design in her own costume choices and mannerisms. Mies and Edith ultimately find they are incompatible because while Edith longs to put her blue velvet loveseat in the house, he vehemently disagrees and tells her it would be kitsch, and go against the style of the house. Their priorities are on the table as Edith longs for comfort and familiarity, and only the realization of his vision satisfies Mies. Philip tells her “when you hire a great artists, you should be thrilled at whatever you get.” For a while, she believes him.

Philip Johnson is reminiscent of a younger sibling that follows Mies around, and idolizes him. We see him employ several different tactics to try and align himself with the great architect. He recommends Mies to Edith, he produces an exhibit at the MOMA with a retrospective of Mies’ lifeswork, and finally by his own admission, he manages to “become more ‘Miesian’ than the artist himself. Philip frequently quotes his idol saying “you cannot reinvent architecture every Monday morning!” Using this as justification, he beats Mies to the punch and builds a glass house before the Farnsworth house is even completed. In a brief departure from stroking his massive ego, Mies describes his admiration of the baroque cathedrals in old Europe, and recalls a time when it did not matter who was behind their construction. Philip is the embodiment of this belief, and like a child, still seeks Mies’ approval of his poseur glass house.

When the romantic relationship is threatened by the reappearance of Laura, Edith begins to reconsider her design for the house. She tells Mies “you built me a cage, a glass cage!” More specifically, he built her a showcase, except she was never the one on display. In his opening monologue Mies tells us that sometimes for the artist to create bold new work, he must “have just one idea, and if the idea is clear then you can fight for it. That is how you can get things done.” From this point, we understand his priorities. His seduction of Edith is gradual but deliberate. Convincing her that “nature is more profound from inside your house than from outside.” Swept up in the spirit of the late 1940’s surge of high Modernism styling, she holds fast to the idea of simplifying her life with a clean sweeping home.

Edith claims that her desire for a simplified weekend home is a result of having a mother and daughter who adore old Victorian homes with lots of “knick-knacks.” Yet, she lacks the same fortitude that Mies has, which allows him to focus in on a singular vision. He tells her “when I make a decision, I kill every other possibility but this one.” In her book A Director Prepares, Anne Bogart touches on the inherent link between creativity and destruction. She says, “Art is violent. To be decisive is violent.” In the construction of the glass house, Mies does violence to Edith by deciding what can be built, and what does not fit into the design scheme, which he hopes will be “almost nothing.” Through the progression of the relationship, we understand that a house and a home are vastly different concepts. She fights back arguing “sometimes less is just less!” When Edith discovers that Mies is married, and that their relationship has no future, she abandons the hope that the glass house will ever be their shared home.

Resonance Ensemble's production of June Finfer's The Glass House at Theatre Row's Clurman Theatre (410 West 42nd St.) from May 9 through June 5. For tickets and more information visit http://www.resonanceensemble.org/