War of the words

Set in the modestly appointed living room of an underachieving associate history professor (who “happens” to be married to the college’s president), the “action” of Edward Albee’s 1962 masterpiece, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, is nearly all encompassed in Albee’s amazingly astute and astringent dialogue. Barbed quips fly and barbed-wire statements entangle the four characters in the tragicomic camaraderie of educated after-hours drunks with nowhere better to go and nothing better to do, but with plenty to say about everything—especially if it hurts when delivered with a leer or smirk. Which means it’s chock-full of moments that are hilariously funny, emotionally lacerating or undeniably true, and sometimes all three simultaneously.

Those whose familiarity with the play is based on the 1966 Mike Nichols film starring Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor will find themselves in recognizable territory. But this Blue Room Theatre production, directed by Matt Hammons, places all of the action in one room. Amber Miller’s realistic two-level set design—textured faux brick walls accented by stained-glass strips, a wooden French door of angled panels, small multibottled bar, beige leather couch, matching reading chair with lamp, and a small phonograph—confines the characters’ movements to a space that is tight but not (quite) claustrophobic.

And what characters they are! In Act I, “Fun and Games,” We meet the disenchanted history professor, George (Bruce Dillman), and his gregarious wife, Martha (Betty Burns), when they burst through the door of their home at 2 a.m. in mid-barrage of drunken, but seemingly good-natured, antagonistic banter. Dillman and Burns inhabit their characters so thoroughly and convincingly that the suspension of disbelief that is so essential to enjoying live theater is achieved effortlessly as they exchange erudite barbs. Both are keenly articulate and witty, George rather morosely so, Martha more astringently confrontational as she engages George in movie trivia before dropping the bomb that guests will arriving shortly.

Which makes it all the more fun when their younger, (slightly) less worldly guests, Nick (Sean Green) and Honey (Delisa Freistadt), arrive on the scene to continue the party and ostensibly to get to know their new colleagues. An underlying theme of the play is the interplay of innocent misapprehension and deliberate deception, and with the four characters in place, playwright Albee begins to toy with the ways communication can exacerbate or engender either.

When George and Nick discuss their wives’ qualities, the exchange is both innocently playful and maliciously mocking on George’s part, and Nick does his best to deflect the maliciousness. When Nick remarks that when he and Honey arrived it sounded like George and Martha were “having some sort of a [fight],” George explains: “Martha and I are having … nothing. Martha and I are merely … exercising … that’s all … we’re merely walking what’s left of our wits. Don’t pay any attention to it.” And yet strict attention is what is vitally necessary, both within the play and from the audience.

In Act II, “Walpurgisnacht”—a title that refers ambiguously to both a traditional Germanic celebration of spring and a gathering of witches—Nick and Honey are given more expansive back stories and active roles, and Green and Freistadt bring their characters’ qualities thoroughly to life. Freistadt’s Honey is outwardly shy, naïve and perhaps a bit goofily dim, but hidden in Albee’s dialogue is a character perhaps more self-aware, discerning and even shrewd than shows on the surface. Freistadt lets those subliminal characteristics peep through her characterization.

Albee titled Act III “The Exorcism,” and in it the play builds to its emotion-drenched climax in a genius display of dark comedy. Ambiguity abounds. Mysteries of truth and illusion are explored but not fully revealed. Playful passive-aggression is played off against genuinely malicious emotional manipulation.

In other words, it’s weird and funny and scary and sad and either makes complete sense or is totally cuckoo. Anyway you look at the Blue Room’s production, it’s well worth seeing for the quality of dramaturgical craftsmanship that cast and crew bring to this remarkable script.