MEETING THE RABBIT? How to respond. |
| Harvey by Mary Chase | Directed by Donald Smith | Produced by the Lyric Music Theater, in South Portland | through June 14 | 207.799.1421 |
On stage right now is one of my all-time favorite American characters: a paragon of innocent humanism in a fedora, and a virtuoso drinker to boot. This timeless charmer is Elwood P. Dowd (Seth Berner), friend of man, respectful admirer of woman, and particular intimate of the invisible six-foot-plus rabbit who gives the name to Harvey. Mary Chase’s 1945 comedy, winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, is winningly presented by South Portland’s Lyric Music Theater under the direction of Donald Smith.Elwood is different from most of the conventional, uptight folks rushing around out there: He’s preternaturally open, gracious, and gentlemanly, is generally to be found making friends in one of many bars, and always, no matter what or with whom, has a fine time. There’s also the question of that big rabbit, to whom he tirelessly introduces his new pals. It’s that last bit that really rankles his conventional, uptight, sister Veta (the inexhaustible Leslie Chadbourne) and her conventional, uptight, husband-hungry daughter Myrtle May (Joelle Clingerman), with whom Elwood shares an abode. They see his furry friend as a liability to their society life and to Myrtle May’s successful marrying-off, so Veta decides it’s time to send Elwood off for normalization at the sanatorium of Drs. Chumley (Denis Fontaine) and Sanderson (Brian McAloon). But Elwood’s charm is not to be underestimated.
As the blithe eye of this farcical storm, Berner is an utter delight, giving Elwood a positively beatific attentiveness and goodwill. His role was made iconic by Jimmy Stewart in the 1950 movie version, and it is to Berner’s great credit that, for this reviewer, his performance was never once eclipsed by memory of Stewart’s. Berner moves beautifully, with the unfailing grace of the sanguine, and his clear, even voice is as smooth and warming as good rye.
His Elwood contrasts nicely with the dominant characteristics of the rest of his cohorts: shrill, rushed, neurotic, hurt, exasperated, abrasive, and passive-aggressive. None of these people is a bad person, just hung up on the normal concerns that Elwood has bypassed, and Lyric’s cast certainly keeps everyone’s tensions pointed. Sanderson and Nurse Kelly (Mary Meserve, with great character) alternately vamp and sulk around each other. Aide-cum-bodyguard Wilson (Kevin Doherty) nurses the aggression and lexicon of a mobster. And Veta is a whirlwind of tearful, increasingly unbalanced complaint, while her daughter’s libidinous quivers and tantrums reach comically desperate heights.
Normally, all these people reel about Elwood’s calm, but that shifts in one key scene, which director Smith could refine. Elwood is explaining just what it is that he and Harvey do in all these bars, befriending all these strangers, and his monologue contains some of the simplest but most lovely writing I’ve encountered for stage or film. Berner’s execution hits all the right notes in Elwood, fond and wise, but he could be slowed down a touch; in contrast to the flustered bustling of much of the play, this is a scene to savor. There’s also a period, during this monologue, when the lights abruptly dim, the supporting characters freeze in stop-time, and a spot comes up on Elwood. The effect is to further insulate him, as if within his own mind. But this crux moment in the play actually calls for heightened human connection, as Elwood is becoming a catalyst for good, and his eccentricities come to finally resonate with the troubles and hopes of the “normal” folks.
