Time Remembered

The Winthrop-North House production of Time Remembered is frustrating because it just falls short of interest and quality. Director James Silverthorne almost achieves cohesion, but not quite.

Jean Anouilh's script is responsible for much of the difficulty, however. For a high school thespian group this play can be challenging and instructive. To be anything more sophisticated than a pleasant junior class play, though, the acting must be superb and creative.

The story is simple: Prince Albert, a young French aristocrat, is totally absorbed in the memory of an eccentric ballerina, Leocadia, who, in a dramatic gesture, strangled herself with her scarf three days after meeting Albert. Albert, thinking himself in love with Leocadia, can do nothing but relieve his three days with her. His old aunt, the Duchess, has bought all the places Albert and Leocadia visited (a nightclub, a park bench, etc.) and placed them on her estate. At the beginning of the play she brings Amanda, a girl who resembles Leocadia, to the estate to complete memory lane. Amanda and Albert try to relieve the three days, and end up loving each other.

In spite of this madness, some interesting relationships emerge as the story unfolds. Unfortunately, director Silverthorne does not pursue many of them. He falls into the trap and explores only the lack of understanding between the very rich (Albert) and the poor (Amanda). And this conflict is the most trivial in the script, as well as totally overdrawn. Silverthorne underplays the pitiful position of the Duchess, and her inability to help Albert even though she desperately wants to. The real nature of Albert's melancholy is only suggested.

Laura Esterman obviously tried very hard to breathe life into Amanda, but lacked the skill to succeed. her struggle to retain sanity and individuality in the dream world of the Duchess and Albert was contrived and unconvincing. Her anger was that of a little girl-not a woman-and so was her love. At the end of the second day of impersonating Leocadia, Amanda finally objects and asserts herself as an individual. In a long monologue, Albert attempts to explain himself, his love and Amanda's inability to be Leocadia; he actually declares that he loves Amanda (although he doesn't know it). Incensed that Albert doesn't realize that he loves her and not Leocadia, Amanda tells him he is terribly uninteresting and stalks away. This scene-in which Amanda announces she is in love by saying she hates Albert-could be wonderful. Too often, however, Miss Esterman appears to be a Radcliffe freshman who would like to experience deep emotion but hasn't.

The character of Albert also receives a weak reading by Steve Myers. Albert does not really love Leocadia (he admits he can't really remember her any more); he loves the idea of being in love with her. A man in despair who totally abandons himself to this love is ludicrous and pitiful, but also very human. Steve Myers, by making Albert affected and almost effeminate, brings out only the ludicrous in Albert. He fails to transmit the horror and tragedy of the character, and thus does not create a person who is interesting-or worth learning about.

Similarly, Myra Rubin gives us only the madness of the Duchess; none of the tragic side of this eccentric character emerges. Lord Hector, the Duchess' companion, is meant to be a stuffed turkey and Atilla Dolanyi is a fine, pompous turkey indeed.

Michael Guilloton, the head-waiter in the nightclub, however, is thoroughly delightful. A la Peter Ustinov, he cleverly develops comedy in lines that could easily pass unnoticed, and his sense of pace keeps the play moving when other lag.

Even with the weaknesses in the major characters, though, and despite technical flaws such as occasionally awkward blocking, stiff motion, and a failure by the actors to wait until the laughter has peaked before proceeding, the play is mildly amusing.