Heartbreak Hilarity

'OH, THIS HOUSE, this house!" moans one character. "Oh, this is a crazy house," wails another. "Is this England, or is it a madhouse?" a third laments. What kind of house is it? It may not have been a full house but it was certainly an appreciative one attending the opening of George Bernard Shaw's Heartbreak House. For three hours, lunacy reigned withing the austere decor of Dunster dining hall: a long-lost daughter dropped in, a practical businessman dropped out, a host of curious and spurious extramarital relations grew entangled.

Shaw's personae are the languishing leisure class engaged in social masquerade: "How are we to have any self-respect," complains the fraudulent investor, "if don't keep it up that we're better than we really are?" And to top it off, there is mad Captain Shotover endlessly traversing the stage in search of the seventh degree of concentration, leaving behind him a wake of nonsensical criticism, and them harrumphing back across the stage with still more. Yes, Heartbreak House is a madhouse--but it is England as well.

On this point Shaw is explicit. In his preface to the play, he calls Heartbreak House "cultured, leisured Europe before the war." Elsewhere he dodges the issue of what it all means: "How should I know? I am only the author." Shaw subtitled the play "A Fantasia in the Russian Manner on English Themes" as homage to Anton Chekhov, whose Three Sisters appeared earlier this semester at the Loeb. The imprint of Chekhov's style is apparent in Shaw's reliance on dialogue, rather than physical action or plot development, to express characterization and the atmosphere of pre-war England. But while the Loeb production evoked a dismal and saturnine mood, emphasizing the tragedy in Chekhov's tragicomic style, this version of Heartbreak House is too delightful a farce to be subdued by Shaw's satire of social mores.

With the aid of an outstanding cast, director Daniel Sherman and producer Rick Livingston have rendered admirably Shaw's light-hearted pandemonium and his apocalyptic vision of a new European class consciousness. Although the characters in Heartbreak House loosely represent symbolic roles in English society, they consistently refuse to be stereotyped. As the play progresses, each character develops, gradually revealing more and more depth. In the end, Shaw's portraits remain ambiguous and a challenge to decipher, leaving nuances of their portrayal up to the discretion of the director and actors.

BECAUSE this Dunster House Drama Society production tends toward the light-hearted and comic event, the two most malevolent characters are evoked sympathetically. Therefore, the members' of Heartbreak House failure to show alarm or despair at the deaths of Mangan, the deceitful businessman, and Billy Dunn, the burglar and ex-pirate, is not credible.

Richard John's performance as Boss Mangan does not evince the "rugged strength" expected of a man whose single-minded business interests threaten to overthrow the existing social order. John instead portrays the kind of character who was kicked around during kindergarten and is only now getting his revenge on humanity. His frenzied, whining manner accords--often hysterically--the Mangan who cannot keep pace with Heartbreak House's ever-changing pretensions. But because his malice barely emerges, John's performance can perhaps best be defined as comic basrelief. Similarly, Peter Ginna is almost endearing as the burglar who not only convinces his captors to release him but persuades them to take up a collection so he can start out again on the right track. The role is executed with considerable charm and color leaving the audience a bit baffled at what consequently appears an unjust fate.

The principle actors, however, demonstrate a full range of emotions and constitute fully-credible characters. Peter Stein captures the essence of the ancient Captain Shotover who drinks "to keep sober" and displays beneath his pachydermatous appearance a tender heart and all the wisdom of the playwright himself. Although Shotover is the ultimate source of chaos, confusing Mazzini Dunn for Billy Dunn, ignoring the arrival of his long-lost daughter Lady Ariadne Utterword and spewing forth random comments as he wanders aimlessly on and off the stage, the Captain is the only one who remains oblivious to the frenzy of Heartbreak House: "I've stood on the bridge for 18 hours in a typhoon," he declares. "Life here is stormier; but I can stand it."

From his viewpoint as the last vestige of the old order, Shotover recognizes the problem most lucidly of all:

I see my daughters and their men living foolish lives of romance and sentiment and snobbery. I see...the younger generation, turning from their romance and sentiment and snobbery to money and comfort and hard common sense.

Only by shunning these petty concerns, the Captain argues, can one hope not merely to survive but to live. Stein is able to convey both this integrity and the salty humor of the old mariner through his slow, shuffling gait and simultaneously gruff and affectionate delivery. Stein's portrayal is the highlight of the production Above all, one senses in his performance the supreme confidence of an actor who has come to understand and accept his role, just as the Captain has carved out a lifestyle for himself in a world in which he is merely a vestige of a former age.

Jennifer Notking convincingly portrays Ellie Dunn's emergence from a shy, naive girl into a coy and sophisticated woman who then recants her decision to marry Mangan solely for his money. Instead, she falls for the 88-year-old Shotover, displaying an unexpected maturity and the mysterious allure of a siren.

Anne Montgomery also gives a fine performance as Hesione Hushabye, Shotover's deceitful and conniving daughter whose romantic delusion compels her to dress her suave husband, Hector, (Kevin Fitzpatrick) in an Arabian robe and to keep him around as a housepet. But Hector surprises the audience with his strength of character. In the final act, he displays both heroism and an astute self-consciousness of the indolence and uselessness plaguing his society. Fitzpatrick's smooth acting makes this transition quite believable.

OTHER performances show slightly less breadth of character but serve adequately to evoke a single, focused personality. While Anne Ames tends to overdo her portrayal of the salacious socialite Lady Utterword, she successfully represents the haughty conservatism of the old English upper class. Doug Kruse's Mazzini Dunn evinces the innocence and naivete of a man taken in by Mangan but fails to provide the minimal amount of dynamism necessary to cast him as the idealistic political orator for the revolutionary movement.

The sets and costumes effectively highlight the juxtaposition between Captain Shotover's loose, churlish demeanor and the aristocratic pretentiousness of the younger generation. Shotover's house looks like an old sea vessel; its rickety poop deck is fashioned as a veranda and netting drapes the furniture and bookcases. The lavish, flamboyant costumes are appropriately incongruous in Shotover's domestic environment.

The absence of such clear distinctions in other aspects of Heartbreak House suggests why the play has been subjected to numerous interpretations since its first performance in 1920. Shaw's final act is especially ambiguous and leaves the audience pondering whether the playwright entertained hopes for the establishment of a new social order or whether, like Chekhov, he foresaw only a grim continuation of existing institutions.

BY TURNING Heartbreak House's humor into near-farce, however, the Dunster House production diverts the audience's attention from Shaw's serious political considerations. Nuances are lost, and with them goes much of what distinguishes Heartbreak House as fine drama. Nevertheless, this production remains worthwhile and enjoyable for its humor, characterization and evocation of a social climate not too far removed from our own.