Superb Interplayers Production Rises To Brilliance Of Eugene O’Neill’S ‘A Touch Of The Poet’

“A Touch of the Poet” Friday, Oct. 22, Interplayers Ensemble

Eugene O’Neill is the undisputed master of American theater, and if you want to find out why, catch this brilliant production of “A Touch of the Poet” at the Interplayers Ensemble.

This study of a small man with dreams - or delusions - of gentility is nearly Shakespearean in its power. Con Melody, the 1828 Irish immigrant innkeeper at the heart of this play, is a character almost as grand, as complicated, and as monumentally flawed as King Lear.

This production, directed by Robert Welch, captures all of the thunder and pathos of O’Neill’s tragic story. It will almost make you wonder why “A Touch of the Poet” isn’t spoken of in the same breath as O’Neill’s masterpieces “A Long Day’s Journey Into Night” and “The Iceman Cometh.”

The story, which originally was intended as Part 1 of a never completed 11-play cycle about an American family, is essentially a scathing character study of Con Melody. He is the owner of a rundown tavern near Boston, vividly rendered in wood tones by set designer Jason Laws.

Yet this poverty-stricken innkeeper insists that his freeloading customers call him Major, because 20 years earlier he fought under the Duke of Wellington at the Battle of Taveras. He was once an officer and gentleman - until he was caught in bed with another officer’s wife.

Yet in his mind, a mind now addled by far too much whiskey, and possibly just plain addled to boot, he is still far superior to the common run of mankind and certainly superior to the common run of Irish immigrant laborers who inhabit his inn. His grandiosity, his comical pride and his mental instability create a poisonous atmosphere for his wife, a heartbreakingly accommodating woman who today would be termed the queen of all enablers, and his daughter, who sees through all of his pretensions.

A great deal of this play consists of Con Melody raging venomously at his wife and his daughter and then, reversing course on a dime, piteously begging their forgiveness. It’s only the whiskey talking, he says.

Or is it? O’Neill is getting at issues far deeper than self-pitying alcoholism. He is striking at the heart of basic issues of class.

Con Melody was born Irish and poor, somehow managed to transcend class barriers in a British society that was supposedly rigid, then came to America where there supposedly were no class barriers. For Con Melody, this turns into the worst of both worlds.

He has an Old World disdain for his “peasant” wife and Irish clientele, yet his British “gentility” is only sneered at by true Yankee society. He is a unique variety of outcast.

Keith Burkland brings Con Melody fully to life, preening in front of a mirror like Napoleon himself one minute, and sneering hatefully at his longsuffering wife the next. Burkland, who pulled off the best acting feat of last season as the Uncle in “How I Learned to Drive,” resists the urge to take this grandiose figure over the top.

Burkland’s style is, thankfully, subdued, nuanced and thoughtful. Instead of shouting, this Con hisses venom and growls his disdain. Only toward the end, when Con Melody goes off to duel with a Yankee, does Burkland release the full flood of Melody’s lunacy.

After Con’s pretensions are bloodied, along with his skull, he becomes a broken man. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off, finally free of his delusions. This should be a rich field for after-play discussion.

Christina Lang is equally compelling as his wife Nora, who desperately plays the role of family conciliator. Lang is perfect for this role because she has an innate knack for showing, through movement and body language, a heart at war with a mind.

Nora’s way of coping with the sad reality of her marriage is to simply insist that “himself” will snap out of it any minute, after a nap, after a nice bite to eat, after another tot of whiskey. It’s her own kind of delusion, absolutely necessary to ward off despair.

The only slightly less compelling performance comes from Carmen Elena Mitchell as the bitter daughter Sara. Mitchell did not always seem to be listening and reacting to the other performers, and her line readings were sometimes rushed. Yet she had more than enough fire to bring her character to life and to bring sparks to her numerous clashes with Con.

And, of course, the evening’s major contribution comes from the pen of O’Neill. This is one of his later plays, written while he was ill, yet his mastery is evident.

The characters are sculpted with precision, the scenes are shaped for maximum drama, and the language continually betrays a touch of the poet. Why isn’t this considered one of O’Neill’s masterpieces? Because this is a playwright who often proved capable of even greater brilliance.

Yet the O’Neill of “A Touch of the Poet” is still superior to just about any other American playwright you can name.

“A Touch of the Poet” continues through Nov. 13 at the Interplayers Ensemble. Call 455-PLAY for tickets.