(photo: uncredited from Theatremania.com)
Sarah Ruhl's first play on the Great White Way
Is a story of people, not so long ago.
Dr. Givings' new treatments are the talk of the day.
(He treats ladies' "hysteria," you know.)
The treatment releases congestion, you see,
not the head but the womb, with electricity
through a smooth knob that vibrates, applied for three minutes,
she gets her release, then sings like the linnets.
Mrs. G, with inadequate milk for her child
Seeks a wet nurse to help the babe thrive.
Maid Elizabeth, mourning the loss of her own
Needs the cash and a way to survive.
She works for the Daldry's, Mrs. D. suffers so
And her Mr. has brought her to give it a go.
"Such an anguish for me" blindly moans Mr. D.
Then he finally adds, "And for her, of course, too."
Hearing moans from her husband's professional room,
Mrs. G. wants to know how it works.
Mrs. D. sneaks her in for a try and "kaboom!"
A new sensory world starts to perk.
Mr. Irving arrives, having just been jilted
With his own hysteria, raging in throes.
Dr. G. has an implement, sadness is tilted
And Irving feels better, (He's "artistic" you know).
Laura Benanti continues to show a lovely range of acting skill. This is her first non-singing lead on Broadway and she carries it nicely. Her Mrs. Givings is eager and unsophisticated, guileless and unfiltered, with a tendency to speak of less than appropriate subjects in the height of the Victorian era. Michael Cerveris is consistently stiff as the ever-proper Dr. Givings, careful to shield his wife from everything a proper lady of the era should not see. Maria Dizzia's Mrs. Daldry is a woman whose treatments awaken more than just sexual pleasure. Her responses to the treatments are quite funny. She shares a lovely moment with Dr. Givings' assistant Annie (Wendy Rich Stetson) after an intimate "manual" treatment when the machine is insufficient.
Quincy Tyler Bernstine's Elizabeth is appropriately shy, demurring from the attention afforded by both Mrs. Givings and the artist Leo Irving (Chandler Williams) who wants to paint her while she is nursing the baby. Her second act monologue about losing her own child is quite touching. Mr. Williams' Irving struts like a rooster, attempting to regain his composure after his first treatment. Dr. Givings explains, "Hysteria is rare in a man." He adds, "But then again, he is an artist."
Director Les Waters smooths over the occasional anachronism with a gentle hand, eliciting some very nice moments as mentioned above. He truly rises to the occasion with the revelations in the lovely final scene between Dr. and Mrs. Givings.
Annie Smart's period set captures the candy store colors of the period, perfectly tufted and tasseled. David Zinn's gorgeous costumes transport delightfully.
I was charmed and thoroughly entertained by this play. I found it a marked improvement over Ms. Ruhl's previous efforts in NY in the last couple of years, Eurydice and Clean House. There is a natural feminist angle, a usual feature of Ms. Ruhl's work, but delivered with more ease this time. She enlightens Dr. Givings with a marked self-awareness of his gender, "What men do not observe because their intellect would prevent the seeing would fill many books."
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