The Middle Ages: a Gurney Forebear Marin Shakespeare Shakes Up its Opening

If we find ourselves in the overstuffed trophy room of a private club (lavish set by Bruce Lackovic) where a distracted young man in funereal black appears to be hiding from the ceremonies outside, and young woman, also in black – a sister? – finds him; if she then urges the man to go back and make his speech quickly, promising that after he does, it will be, “Over, out, and into the bar,” then Aha! We’re in Gurney country!

This discovery can allow us to anticipate other favorites of this popular playwright – WASP families observing dining rituals, having cocktails, old loves connecting with one another. But A. R.Gurney’s 1977 play has a somewhat different focus. The Middle Ages of the title refers, says Director Billie Cox, not to an age range, but to the “courtly love” of that time. So we learn that the young woman in black is not a sister, but a permanent sweetheart, and the young man, Barney, has enduring attachments both to her and to Robin Hood.

In other ways, though, The Middle Ages reveals its ancestry to Gurney’s later works. The Dining Room (1982,) The Cocktail Hour (1988,) Love Letters (1989) enlarge on themes that began here. This trophy room can stand in for the ritual dining table; the couple at the funeral might be the two who will write love letters over the years; Barney, the lead character and bad brother, will have his counterpart in the embarrassing son of The Cocktail Hour, while the absent good brother, Billy, stands for the powerful, unseen forces of convention and virtue.

Only four characters tell The Middle Ages’ story: Barney, his longtime love, Eleanor, his father, Charles, and Eleanor’s mother, Myra, who later marries Charles and becomes part of the family. Their interactions take place over thirty years, beginning in the late ‘40s, and demonstrate the social changes of those decades. When they are all younger, “El’s” mother impresses upon her daughter that she has “only five more years to stake her claim before everyone else goes off to college.” And Barney, though complaining about being imprisoned by his family history, doesn’t hesitate to tell El his name and position in the club.

Thirty years later, everything’s changed. Barney has relocated to San Francisco, where he is making a lot of money in a socially questionable occupation. El is a married woman with three children. Charles is in a wheelchair, but still giving orders, and the club is on the market because even though it has broadened its membership policy, nobody has the time or the money for such activity. “Even the Catholics don’t have money anymore.”

Their stories are told to each other, but also in revealing asides to the audience. Myra discloses her delight in the prospect of marrying Charles and says she wants “the most spectacular party since the Cerebral Palsy Ball!” An exasperated Charles declares his obligation to observe “the rules of hospitality” for Barney’s “guests,” but it’s clear that he’d rather suck lemons.

However, the tenderness that sometimes appears in Gurney’s work is not much in evidence here, largely because we don’t hear much from Barney. Barney is the lead character, but we never quite know what, other than resentment, makes him tick. Peter Smith of Kentfield depicts Barney as a playful and resourceful Peter Pan. Monique Sims of Tiburon plays Eleanor, whose character also grows older along with Barney’s. (Sims’ portrayal of the 14-year-old El is convincing without being a caricature.) Tamar Cohn of San Rafael portrays the gently conniving Myra, with Alex Shafer of Richmond as the stone-solid head of the family. Michael A. Berg’s fine array of age-and-occasion-appropriate costumes define and enhance the time frame.

The Middle Ages is the Ross Valley Players’ final production of its 80th season. It can be seen at The Barn Theatre in Ross through August 15, Thursdays through Sunday afternoons. Performances are at 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays and 7:30 p.m. on Thursdays. Ticket prices range from $15 to $25, $15 on Thursdays. For directions or reservations, call the box office, 456-9555 or see the website, www.rossvalleyplayers.com.

In opening remarks to the audience before the opening of Tom Stoppard’s Travesties, Robert S. Currier, Marin Shakespeare Company’s founder and Artistic Director, explained that this playwright’s work can be “intellectually challenging.” Stoppard’s style frolics with language, throws in bits of Shakespeare and sets up parodies. (Parody is one definition of “travesty.”) The Czech-born playwright also composes absurdist and existential story lines that don’t make sense and don’t resolve, so audiences might ask themselves, “Is Tom Stoppard an unfettered genius or a self-indulgent smartypants?” Robert Currier has made up his mind: “I totally love the guy.”

Travesties, which won a Tony Award in 1976, explores the unreliable memories of Henry Carr, a real-life British Consulate employee who was stationed in Zurich in 1917. At that time, the city also housed Vladimir Lenin and his wife, Nadya, James Joyce, who was working on Ulysses, and Tristan Tzara, founder of the Dada movement in poetry and art. Joyce and Carr did actually meet and cooperate in a Zurich production of Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, but ended up suing each other. The other connections are fiction.

And so Carr’s “senile reminiscence” of Lenin’s “full, blond hair,” Tzara’s gymnastic entrances into a room, and the food fight about art vs. patriotism are not entirely to be believed. Nor is the Wildean segment, complete with cucumber sandwiches.

But Tom Stoppard pulls the realism rug out from under an audience again and again. Carr’s opening reminiscences, for instance, run without interruption for thirty minutes, broken only by outbursts from the cuckoo clock. A scene with Joyce, Gwendolyn, and Tzara is spoken entirely in limericks. Another scene is shaped from some lines of Shakespeare’s, while a duet between the two women from Earnest is modeled on the old vaudeville song, Mr. Gallegher and Mr Shean.

Pulling this off requires and gets some first-rate talent. Henry Carr is onstage in almost every scene, both as an old and a young man, so William Elsman deserves a deep bow for taking this on and making it work. Stephen Klum in costume is a ringer for Lenin, and he’s consistently dependable with the accent. Darren Bridgett’s athletic gyrations show Tristan Tzara at his peculiar best. And when Sharon Huff, as Lenin’s wife, delivers the news (in Russian) that the Revolution has started, she counters her husband’s disbelief with “Da! Da! Da!” echoing Tzara’s repetitions of “Dadadadada.”

Cat Thompson and Alexandra Matthews as the Gwendolen and Cecily of Earnest juggle the Edwardian ladies’ roles of Travesties. And Julian Lopez-Morillas as Carr’s manservant, Bennett, delivers a moving account of the workers’ uprising in Russia. All of this takes place on a set comprised of wheeled staircase-bookcases that travel beneath a trio of clocks that will never tell time. (The ship in the background has no purpose and will appear in a later play.)

After almost three hours, the nature of art has been explored, political passions have been challenged, beauty has been acknowledged, and the question remains: is Stoppard a glittering innovator or an unconvicted plagiarist?

These will make good conversation on the drive home.

Travesties will play in repertory with Taming of the Shrew in the Forest Meadows Amphitheatre at Dominican University until August 15. Ticket prices run between $20 and $35, with discounts available for advance, seasonal and multiple purchases. For a complete schedule of performance times and dates, see www.marinshakespeare.org or call the box office, 499-4488.

The amphitheatre welcomes picnickers and advises evening playgoers to bring extra layers and jackets for after dark. Call the box office for special parking.