Alison Pill, Glenda Jackson and Laurie Metcalf (Photo: Brigitte Lacombe)
None of the disaffection for a series of Edward Albee’s plays that followed
years of success and great acclaim was deemed relevant when “Three Tall Women” (premiered
in Vienna in 1991) eventually opened in the U.S. at the Vineyard Theater in
1994 featuring memorable performances by Myra Carter and Marian Seldes. It re-awakened
in us what we already knew: Albee is once again to be acknowledged as one of
the best American playwrights of the 20th century with this play winning for
him his second Pulitzer Prize. A
terrific Broadway revival, under the direction of Joe Mantello and starring Glenda
Jackson, Laurie Metcalf and Alison Pill has opened at the Golden Theatre. It is
pure gold and will be a treat for Albee fans and for lovers of great acting.
While there was no denying in 1994 that Albee had grown more
alienated and dramatically elusive, notably after writing such celebrated plays
as “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolfe,” “A Delicate Balance,” and “Seascape.” His return
to a more easily accessed dramatic form made “Three Tall Women” all the more
appreciated. It is commendable for not only being a moving and often humorous
re-examination of a very wealthy 92 year-old woman’s life, but for once again having
at its core an actress who is in dazzling command of this fascinating and
exasperating woman’s fluctuations of moods. The actress is Glenda Jackson who
is returning to the New York stage after an absence of 33 years, a stint in the
British Parliament, and a return to the London stage in 2016 as King Lear for
the Old Vic. Is there any doubt that she is wonderful at making petulance both
heart-breaking and funny.
On the verge of death, and distrustful of everyone around
her, the woman, identified only as A flexes her memory. Although it is clouded
by senility (“I can’t remember what I know”), she ultimately does reflect on her
lifetime. Just as her past is filled as much with commonplace and trivial pursuits,
it has been punctuated by delightfully risqué adventures. And its fragmented
truths are cradled within a resolute honesty. But this production is no
monologue.
It also has the support of the also terrific Laurie Metcalf
who plays B, A’s 52 year-old home companion and caregiver. Adding the play’s newly
burnished luster is the excellent Alison Pill who plays C, a 26 year-old woman
from the family-retained law firm who has come to question A about her
neglected finances. The wry and compassionate edge that marks Metcalf’s bravura
performance is contrasted by the insensitivity demonstrated by Pill as the
impatient C.
While the three actresses have distinct roles in Act I, in
Act II they each appear as different stages in the life of the same woman who is
now deceased and with an estranged son who appears only to stand silently at
her bedside. A continues to chronicle moments from her impetuous childhood, her
marriage and her later years. As she mentally travels through numerous peccadilloes,
she also attempts with candidly expressed sentiments, to exorcise the pain and
anger she has harbored in regard to her son. These are assumed to have
autobiographical ties to the author. Mantello’s direction appears to measure
the play’s haunting nature with a playfulness that never ceases to amaze. Miriam
Buether’s set design affixes appropriate affluence, as do Ann Roth’s ultra
stylish apparel to a play notably rich with the words and the wonder of the playwright
who was just getting his second wind.
None of the disaffection for a series of Edward Albee’s plays that followed
years of success and great acclaim was deemed relevant when “Three Tall Women” (premiered
in Vienna in 1991) eventually opened in the U.S. at the Vineyard Theater in
1994 featuring memorable performances by Myra Carter and Marian Seldes. It re-awakened
in us what we already knew: Albee is once again to be acknowledged as one of
the best American playwrights of the 20th century with this play winning for
him his second Pulitzer Prize. A
terrific Broadway revival, under the direction of Joe Mantello and starring Glenda
Jackson, Laurie Metcalf and Alison Pill has opened at the Golden Theatre. It is
pure gold and will be a treat for Albee fans and for lovers of great acting.
While there was no denying in 1994 that Albee had grown more
alienated and dramatically elusive, notably after writing such celebrated plays
as “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolfe,” “A Delicate Balance,” and “Seascape.” His return
to a more easily accessed dramatic form made “Three Tall Women” all the more
appreciated. It is commendable for not only being a moving and often humorous
re-examination of a very wealthy 92 year-old woman’s life, but for once again having
at its core an actress who is in dazzling command of this fascinating and
exasperating woman’s fluctuations of moods. The actress is Glenda Jackson who
is returning to the New York stage after an absence of 33 years, a stint in the
British Parliament, and a return to the London stage in 2016 as King Lear for
the Old Vic. Is there any doubt that she is wonderful at making petulance both
heart-breaking and funny.
On the verge of death, and distrustful of everyone around
her, the woman, identified only as A flexes her memory. Although it is clouded
by senility (“I can’t remember what I know”), she ultimately does reflect on her
lifetime. Just as her past is filled as much with commonplace and trivial pursuits,
it has been punctuated by delightfully risqué adventures. And its fragmented
truths are cradled within a resolute honesty. But this production is no
monologue.
It also has the support of the also terrific Laurie Metcalf
who plays B, A’s 52 year-old home companion and caregiver. Adding the play’s newly
burnished luster is the excellent Alison Pill who plays C, a 26 year-old woman
from the family-retained law firm who has come to question A about her
neglected finances. The wry and compassionate edge that marks Metcalf’s bravura
performance is contrasted by the insensitivity demonstrated by Pill as the
impatient C.
While the three actresses have distinct roles in Act I, in
Act II they each appear as different stages in the life of the same woman who is
now deceased and with an estranged son who appears only to stand silently at
her bedside. A continues to chronicle moments from her impetuous childhood, her
marriage and her later years. As she mentally travels through numerous peccadilloes,
she also attempts with candidly expressed sentiments, to exorcise the pain and
anger she has harbored in regard to her son.
These are assumed to have
autobiographical ties to the author. Mantello’s direction appears to measure
the play’s haunting nature with a playfulness that never ceases to amaze. Miriam
Buether’s set design affixes appropriate affluence, as do Ann Roth’s ultra
stylish apparel to a play notably rich with the words and the wonder of the playwright
who was just getting his second wind.
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