By Monique Carboni
Pity poor Christine Mannon, the matriarch of Eugene O’Neill’s seriously dysfunctional clan in his 1931 epic Mourning Becomes Electra. How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child, especially one as singularly chilling as Christine’s daughter Lavinia. Locked up in a “whited sepulcher” of a New England mansion with her dull husband for 20 years, is it any wonder that the beautiful Christine should abandon herself to the throes of passion with ship’s captain Adam Brant? Alas, Lavinia also harbors feelings both for Captain Brant and her own father (thus the Electra of the title), so Christine falls victim to the vengeful Vinnie as her daughter’s actions take on the weight of Greek tragedy.
A revival of O’Neill’s complete trilogy, comprised of Homecoming, The Hunted and The Haunted, is rare enough to make any production welcome—even the New Group’s significantly flawed one. In fact, that the four and a half hours are as successful as they are is solely attributable to the power of O’Neill’s writing and a stunning performance from Jena Malone as Lavinia.
Happily dodging Scott Elliott’s scattershot direction, Malone manages the neat trick of remaining in both the period setting of post-Civil War New England and in the period of O’Neill’s writing. Even her anachronistic Jean Seberg-like shorn head doesn’t prevent Malone from transforming into a grim, icy Daddy’s girl, anchoring the production even as it threatens to spin out of control.
One wonders if Elliott just didn’t have enough faith in the material’s potency. Instead of letting the play speak for itself, he’s filigreed everything with odd directorial touches that, if they aren’t distractingly out of period, actively contradict the text. Christine (Lili Taylor) and Brant (Anson Mount) roll around on the floor in simulated passion, her skirts hiked up above her knees as they plot her husband’s murder; later, in The Haunted, a newly free-spirited Vinnie similarly grapples with her beau Peter (Patrick Mapel) on the parlor floor. Gone With the Wind’s scandalous Scarlett O’Hara dancing while in mourning has nothing on these Mannon women.
Most tellingly, Elliott has Malone rub herself against her brother Orin (Joseph Cross) in an effort to convince him to swallow his confession about the horrors they have done, only to deliver dialogue moments later that reveals her shock at what her brother expects from her in payment. In that moment, Mourning Becomes Electra stops being a tragedy and turns into along the lines of Cruel Intentions—not even Dangerous Liaisons. In Elliot’s hands, the play becomes a hopelessly sexed-up version of O’Neill’s original work, lacking a cohesive feel that’s exemplified by the confusing technical elements.
Jason Lyons’s lighting design is appropriately menacing (never has a moonlight mansion seemed so terrifying), but Susan Hilferty’s costumes are wildly disappointing. Giving Christine a single dress in the first play is a puzzling choice, leaving the time lapses unmentioned unless one has memorized the scene breakdown in the program. Likewise, Malone’s curiously short hair continually pulls the play out of the 19th-century. If Elliott wanted a contemporary production similar to the current revival of Hedda Gabler, his plans for one seem half-hearted at best.
And though the director completely fails the townspeople cum Greek chorus (their scenes are so ham-fisted that one wants to avert one’s eyes), he either spent more time with his leads or they’re all accomplished enough to ignore his vision in pursuit of something more honest. Only Lili Taylor disappoints in her early scenes, reciting her dialogue with an even odder speech pattern than she normally displays. Eventually, she grows into the indomitable, sensuous woman the role cries out for, but not until the audience is treated to a few worrying scenes.
Mount is appropriately virile at the adulterous captain, and Mark Blum does nice work as the stubborn and bewildered husband and father who returns from the Civil War to find another raging in his home between his beautiful wife and his fiercely devoted daughter. Film actor Joseph Cross, best known for his work in Running With Scissors, makes an impressive Off-Broadway debut as the weak-willed Orin, who lacks his sister’s steely will to survive the damage he has caused.
But the entire show is almost undone with the ludicrous casting of Phoebe Strole as Hazel. From the moment she first punctuates a line by slapping her hand against her leg, one realizes one is in the presence of an actress in over her head. Hazel, a sweet young girl out of her element among the Gothic Mannon family, must nevertheless possess a powerful moral compass that allows her to actively criticize what she sees happening. But Strole comes across as the winner of a reality TV show contest, with first prize a costarring role in an Off-Broadway play. When she eventually goes head-to-head with Lavinia, it’s impossible to believe that such a simpering, mealy-mouthed creature could ever convince the self-possessed Vinnie that she’s in the wrong. And though Lavinia threatens to shoot Hazel, it’s the audience who has first dibs on her.
>Mourning Becomes Electra
Through Mar. 1, The New Group at Theatre Row, 410 W. 42nd St. (betw. 9th and 10th Aves.), 212-279-4200; times vary, $61.25.
