By the Book
St. John Ervines John Ferguson has, like Look Back in Anger and Cats, a place in historyno matter what we think of the piece itself. It was produced in 1919 by the fledgling Theatre Guild with barely $20 to its name. Back then, the playwhich scheduled for five performancesran for 130. Had it not, later Guild presentations, such as Shaws Heartbreak House and Saint Joan, Eugene ONeills Strange Interlude, Mourning Becomes Electra and The Iceman Cometh as well as the musical Oklahoma!, might have never occurred.
But 1919 is like a disappearing speck in our rearview mirrorthe year before women got the vote, the year after the World War I armistice. In this sense, the dramatic elements of John Ferguson have a quiescent quaintness.
Set in a rundown Irish farmhouse, the title character (a mesmerizing Robertson Carricart) is poor and ill, yet swaddled in faith. Hes awaiting a letter from his brother in America that he hopes will contain a check to pay the past due mortgage. His mortgager, Henry Witherow (Greg Thornton), is a classic villain: costume designer Mattie Ullrich cloaks him in the riding boots and waistcoat that echoes economic arrogance and evil.
Similarly, the characters around John are predictable: wife Sarah (a fine Joyce Cohen) is always kitchen-fussing and keeping social order; rebellious daughter Hannah (a fetching Marion Woods) and brooding son Andrew (a gracefully understated Justin Schultz) whos struggling to harvest a living.
Their straits are dire: Witherall not only demands his money but prays the letter will not arrive; hes eager to evict them from the farm even knowing the move will send them to the poorhouse. Its Johns view, though, to remain fatalistic: if its Gods will to be booted out by their withers, so be it. When a neighborsheepish shop owner James Caesar (a twitchy Mark Saturno)offers the cash for Hannahs hand, the lass at first accepts, yet soon breaks down, for she cannot abide him. Again its Gods will, John Ferguson declares, sending Hannah to Witherall and accepting his fate. When Witherall makes a violent move on her, though, the action takes a tragic turn.
I offer these details because John Ferguson, staged with a kind of two-mode strategy by Martin Plattmuscularly motion-filled or gauzy-slowis mere steps away from hoariness and melodrama. Certainly Ervines dialogue is oceans more free-flowing than whats to be found in many early-20th-century texts, but its hardly naturalistic. Its lyrical Expressionism with an Irish lilt. Even for 1919, the characters motivations and natures seem stale: of course Caesar, no prize himself and awkward around girls, wants to float the Fergusons for Hannah, as money is his only asset. Of course theres a third party, a merry itinerant named Clutie John McGrath (a clownlike John Keating), to offer comic relief. And of course Andrew, in defense of his sisters honor, initiates the bloody final action of the play.
Now ask me if I liked the production. I did! And thats where the actorsbut for over-the-top Saturnomake tasty croutons of age-old bread. The title characters unwavering faith in the Good Book provoked moans and sighs from the audiencebut theyre missing how, like a squirrel, Carricart gracefully burrows underneath his character to get at the nut of the man. At times his line-readings are so inventive theres no time to enjoy his spot-on accent. Keating, too, understands Cluties tension-relieving functionso watch him when hes doing nothing to see everything hes doing. I do wish the play wasnt so old hat, but my hat is off to those whose acting worked like clockwork.
Through Oct. 15. Mint Theater, 311 W. 43rd St. (at 8th Ave.), 212-315- 0231, $45.