ACT's In The Next Room: A Pleasing, Not Revolutionary, Satisfaction

The nature of Romanticism, the popular cultural movement that inundated Western culture toward the end of the 18th century and felt throughout the 19th, is one that is borne out of a desire to abandon all pretenses and inhibitions and just give in to the realm of sensation, delight in its extremes -- within reason, of course, lest one become a nihilist. It was both a rebellion to the ever increasing Rationalism pervading the atmosphere and a reaction to the increasing amount of luxury and personal freedom that the Industrial Age afforded the upper classes first, and then spread to the rest of society.

It is into this age and environment that ACT's production of Sarah Ruhl's In The Next Room, or the vibrator play places the audience; its approximation of that Romatic abandon is the female orgasm, itself a random event for the poor unfortunate "proper" women of the Western world. At this point in Western history, the female orgasm had been classified as a "paroxysm" which were only induced as a cure for "hysteria", an unsurprisingly common ailment which in polite company we would equate to that part of the male anatomy that could turn blue. A lot of mileage is gained out of the juxtaposition between the period's the assumed truths and what we know of them now.

It is curious, then, that the moments in the play dedicated to the female 'o' are treated with such gentility. They feel like antiquated versions of the o, a late-19th-century scientist's rendering of what a woman does during that release. It's almost cartoonish, but not exaggerated as in a farce, neither did they seem to enjoy it, or confused by the enjoyment -- except for wanting it to happen again. It felt like a short cut to expedite the comedy and drama, but it had the effect of making this thing the women want seem silly, which doesn't really gel with the other emotions and tonal qualities at play within Ruhl's script. It's hard to say whether this is the script's flaw or the director's.

The real value of the vibrator play is in the emotion that the situation evokes. Our sympathies can not help but go out to these characters. Catherine Givings (Jennifer Sue Johnson) seeks release from the ennui and post-partum depression she's enveloped in. Dr. Givings' (Jeff Cummings) medical practice revolves around giving the necessary paroxysms to his affluent clientele, but is unable to move beyond the confines that Rationalism has led him to. Mrs. Daldry (Deborah King) does not enjoy her husband's (Michael Patten) company and doesn't know why; Elizabeth (Tracy Michelle Hughes), the Daldry's maid, would be grieving her lost son in the presence of these privileged people, but after years of sublimation knows how to put that pain away.

The evidence of the effects the emotional divide has on these characters is in full display here, but it's important to note that Ruhl doesn't simply make a case for Romantic abandon. While Mr. Daldry yearns and Annie (Mary Kae Irvin) just goes about her business, Leo Irving (Connor Toms), displays the loneliness such a fleeting lifestyle can bring -- even as he makes plenty of persuasive arguments otherwise.

That connection to the sensational is the ultimate goal, and only two sets of characters are allowed to experience it. Here is where Beattie's restrained approach is rewarded; the same restraint that hamstrung his production of The Lieutenant of Inishmore serves him well here. That restraint makes these two moments of connection all the more affecting.

The second of those moments, begins with Dr. Givings reaching beyond his limitations and describing his passion for his wife the only way he knows how: by labeling her attractive qualities through scientific means. Through such an absurd moment a bittersweet grace note is achieved.

The cast is uniformly strong, the funny moments funny and the same is true of the touching moments, the design elements are immaculate; and yet the experience feels so slight. In The Next Room is a light romp with deep undercurrents, it's a frivolity and that's fine. But it seems off when a play about the ultimate release from the present doesn't sweep one away.

As it stands, Room delivers a series of small, strong climaxes, but is unable to land the big one. Satisfying, but not fulfilling.

Tuesday through Sunday (various times); August 4 through August 28 // ACT's Falls Theater, 700 Union Street // $15 - $37.50 in advance -- PWYC after 1:00p.m., in person, on the day of show -- no guarantee of seating