Photo by CAROL ROSEGG
The Cocktail Party
Back in 1950 T.S. Eliot’s The Cocktail Party was considered an enigma in drawing room comedy clothing. On the surface, The Cocktail Party seemed to tell of a lighthearted gathering of over-privileged, upper crust, very English characters whose problems cast a shadow on the alcohol-clouded evening. But since then the play-going public has caught up with and on to the undercurrents and deeper meanings of The Cocktail Party. These seemingly silly people are wading in still waters that will soon take them deeper and deeper into depression, collapse and tragedy.
The play opens at the eponymous party. Although the host, Edward Chamberlayne (Jack Koenig) appears to be moody, the rest of the guests are having a boringly good time telling stories, drinking and complaining about the lack of food. Little mysteries begin to develop: Who’s the stranger (Simon Jones) who keeps piping in? Why is Edward’s wife, Lavinia, not there? Does Celia (Lauren English) know that Peter (Jeremy Beck) is in love with her? Guests leave then return one by one to reveal their tales of woe. Young Peter is besotted with Celia who is, in turn, having an affair with Edward. Julia Shuttlethwaite (Cynthia Harris) dizzily returns to retrieve her eyeglasses, dragging an exasperated Alexander (Mark Alhadeff) along with her. Julia is an older, slightly silly social butterfly who hangs onto the company of younger men like the filmmaker Alex and the lawyer Edward. She is a busybody of the first order.
None are who they appear to be.
The stranger turns out to be some sort of therapist/guru who knows where Lavinia (Erika Rolfsrud) has been hiding out. In fact, we find out, he is the architect of her disappearance. He arranges for Lavinia’s re-emergence. When she does return she acts as if nothing has happened. She and Edward coolly abuse each other when Julia and Alex, both summoned by mysterious telegrams, make an appearance. (Throughout the play, the doorbell chime takes on an irritating and unavoidable symbolism of its own, announcing the entrances of characters who interrupt, annoy and otherwise push the plot along.) Edward gets more and more agitated, leading Lavinia to believe he is having a breakdown. This leads directly to the offices of Sir Henry Harcourt Riley, the previously unidentified guest, who has been stage managing the affairs of almost everyone else in the play, abetted, we find out, by Julia and Alex who have turned out to be more perspicacious and serious-minded than we could have imagined considering their ridiculously well-decorated exteriors and vapid conversations.
Lavinia and Edward beseech Sir Henry for help and he masterfully analyses their problems, telling them that they are both mentally ill. After dissecting them ruthlessly, he devises therapy for not only them, but for an equally desperate Celia who is having a breakdown of her own. She feels alienated and alone and unable to truly love. “Can we only love something created by our own imagination?” she asks. She is sent off to Sir Henry’s sanitarium. After Edward, Lavinia and Celia retreat to their respective healings, Alex and Julia join Sir Henry in a lachrymose, sermon-like toast to their futures.
The final act of The Cocktail Party returns to the party theme. A newly happy Edward and Lavinia are hosting a dinner party. They appear reconciled and content, bantering lovingly about their hosting duties and the guests they expect. As each character is privy to revelations and redemptions. Julia sums it up in expressing how each of us chooses his/her way to live and die. Alex, Henry and Julia depart as if to go on to rescue other damaged, deprived individuals and Edward and Lavinia remain to putter about and make small talk as the play ends.
The Cocktail Party is clearly T.S. Eliot’s allegory of the way of the world. Although the psychology spouted by Sir Henry is more poetry than science, it is right on when it comes to being truthful to ourselves and true to our fates. Eliot’s view of humanity is ultimately optimistic, if imperfect. What else can we expect of a poet?
The TACT production was superbly realized from the clean lines of the chic sets of Andrew Lieberman and Laura Jellinek to the many fine, period-perfect costumes of David Toser, aided by the props by Lily Fairbanks, perfect from the cocktail shakers to the writing implements.
The director Scott Alan Evans gave life to what in other hands could have become stilted and high falutin. He wasn’t afraid to go slowly or even pause, gathering up speed as the work progressed.
The actors had depth and shading. Erika Rolfsrud and Jack Koenig as Lavinia and Edward were exemplars of “stiff upper lip” underscored by deeper emotions just under the surface. Lauren English as Celia also hid her angst well until she simply fell apart. Mark Alhadeff’s portrayal of the twit Alexander showed that this character had unexpected depth, as did Cynthia Harris’s delicious interpretation of Julia. Jeremy Beck was lovely in his boyish Peter who is ultimately wounded by tragedy. Simon Jones gave gravity to Sir Henry, yet avoided the leaden clichés that have trapped others in similar parts. His pronouncements were human scaled and moving. Celia Smith and Ben Beckley in smaller roles were properly unobtrusive and right on.
With The Cocktail Party TACT continues its winning streak of staging neglected minor masterpieces.
The Beckett Theatre at Theatre Row
410 West 42nd St.
New York, NY
March 7th – April 10th, 2010 (May be extended.)
Tickets: In person at the Theatre Row Box Office or 212-279-4200 or http://www.ticketcentral.com
More information: http://www.TACTnyc.org