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About MARIAL THEATER:
REVIEW Atlanta Journal-Constitution By Wendell Brock "Ah, Wilderness!" The verdict: A lovely (but long) look at the American
family at the dawn of the 20th century. Has the American family changed much since 1906? That was the year in which Eugene O'Neill, the Nobel
Prize-winning author of "Long Day's Journey Into Night"
and "Mourning Becomes Electra," set his sweet coming-of-age
comedy "Ah, Wilderness!" And that seems to be part of the thinking behind Emory
University's "Staging the American Family: A Symposium on the
Evolution of the Idea of Family in 20th Century Drama," which
is using the nostalgic, semi-autobiographical play as a springboard
for debate. Maybe we've come a long way from the world of newspaper
editor Nat Miller, who lives in a birdcage-like house on the Connecticut
shore with his old-maid sister, Lily; his wife, Essie; and their
brood of firecracker-popping, piano-playing children. Maybe we haven't.
It's been nearly 100 years since we thought of automobile
rides as exotic outings --- or rang big outdoor bells at dinnertime.
These days, breaking bread and listening to heirloom stories aren't
what they used to be. But when the Miller clan pours the lemonade
and cracks the lobster for its Fourth of July gathering, when 17-year-old
Richard experiences the first sting of heartbreak, we start to feel
the familiar tug of those old sentiments: love, honor, pride, pity.
O'Neill, whose family was plagued by drug addiction
and suicide, said that "Ah, Wilderness!" was an invention
of the home life he wished he'd had. The nicest thing about John
Ammerman's Theater Emory production is that it turns the Millers
into the kind of people we wish we knew. Had I not feared that I
would have been escorted out of the theater, I might have sidled
up to the picnic table and asked for a plate, so charming is the
production's cherry-pie 'tude and Wm. Moore's neat-as-a-pin set.
Steve Coulter's Nat, a part first played by George
M. Cohan, is invested with the kind of paternal beneficence the
world could use more of. It's particularly touching to see him kiss
his sleeping son good night as he carries him to bed. At other times,
his hayseed posturing can wear a bit thin. That's not the case with
Bruce Evers' hale, high-spirited Sid, who's the quintessence of
a lovable screw-up, forever in his cups. Lisa Paulsen plays her
Lily with delicacy: Underneath that stubborn exterior, there's a
sense of longing and vulnerability. Among the student actors, Gabriel Raul Vinas' girl-crazy
Wint, who lures Richard on his unfortunate quest for "swifties,"
exudes an oily quality that's very funny. But the real find is Raife
Baker's Richard. A blustery romantic who reads Shaw and Wilde and
quotes from "The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam," from which
the play draws its title, Richard is the overwrought core of this
story of initiation. A handsome, all-American blond, Baker is so
completely comfortable in his skin that he turns his natural impulse
to overact into a bankable brand of boyish ardor. He was born to
act. On the downside, the 14-member ensemble has a sprinkling
of uneven performances; and with two intermissions and a three-hour
run time, the show feels long. First produced in 1932, "Ah,
Wilderness!" has a sunny disposition that presages "Father
Knows Best" and "The Waltons." A few years ago, it
might have been dismissed as too syrupy for its own good; now it
has the effect of making us want to hug our children and tell our
parents we love them. Like Norman Rockwell's paintings, which are being
celebrated yet again, "Ah, Wilderness!" makes us believe
in the myths we've come to cherish. Love abides. And sometimes,
that's enough.
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