Jamie Portman : Moya O-Connell Shines As Tracy Lord In The Shaw Festival’s revival of The Philadelphia Story
Photo: Emily Cooper
NIAGARA-ON-THE-LAKE, Ont. — The chief reason for seeing the Shaw Festival’s revival of The Philadelphia Story is the presence of the incandescent Moya O’Connell in the role of Tracy Lord, the captivating self-absorbed heiress who finally learns to be a human being on the eve of her second marriage.
Philip Barry’s comedies can be hazardous undertakings, requiring a particular tone and cadence in delivery, and rippling with the kind of nuance and subtlety that helps flesh out a particular social strata. Barry was writing about the rich — indeed, some would say he was in love with the rich in plays like The Philadelphia Story and Holiday — but that didn’t stop him from gently mocking the pretensions of the very world he embraced.
Dennis Garnhum’s tentative and somewhat tone-deaf production seems influenced more by High Society, the shallow Hollywood musical version of The Philadelphia Story, than by the play itself. A few years ago, in a moment of madness, the Shaw Festival offered the stage adaptation of this overrated movie as part of its season — and the production failed to rise above the inferior material.
Playgoers with even longer memories may recall the vulgarities of a disastrously misconceived production of Holiday. The bottom line, therefore, is that Philip Barry — a major figure in 20th Century American drama — has not been well served at the Shaw Festival. However, despite shortcomings, its current production of The Philadelphia Story is certainly the best of the lot — and in fairness it will offer legitimate pleasure to a great many theatregoers.
Moya O’Connell has emerged as one of the treasures of the festival’s much envied acting company. In recent seasons, we’ve seen her as a giddy romantic in Enchanted April, a sizzling Maggie in Cat On a Hot Tin Roof, and a monstrous Hedda Gabler. And now we have her striding confidently through the role of Tracy Lord, a part specifically written for Katherine Hepburn who did it first on stage and then — in a last-ditch attempt to rescue a failing Hollywood career — played it brilliantly in the fondly remembered 1940 movie.
When we first see O’Connell — cutting a striking figure in jodhpurs and boots, defining Tracy’s sense of privilege and entitlement, and adjusting with ease to the distinctive rhythms of Barry’s witty dialogue — we may wonder whether we’re in for no more than a superior Hepburn imitation. But we needn’t worry: O’Connell has the authority to wrestle the role out of Kate’s spectral grasp and make it her own.
It’s not simply that she captures our attention whenever she moves across the stage — whether it’s in riding gear or the succession of gowns designed for her by William Schmuck. It’s that she manages to temper a display of formidable willpower and keen intelligence with an unexpected vulnerability and fragility. A carelessly rendered production of The Philadelphia Story can end up suggesting that Tracy can only be tamed if she ends up with the right guy, but we don’t get that here, not with O’Connell ensuring that we see Tracy acquire the self-knowledge and humility needed to allow her to become a “first-class human being.”
The play takes place in 1939, on the eve of her second wedding, an event that has Philadelphia society all aquiver. Tracy is set to marry the too too solid George Kittredge (Thom Marriott), but she is also dealing with the complicating presence of her jaunty ex-husband C.K. Dexter Haven (Gray Powell) who has manoeuvred his way into the household with the connivance of Tracy’s irrepressible younger sister Dinah (Tess Benger). Is Dexter just a troublemaker, a potential spoiler? We know that he and Tracy can still get under each other’s skin — because we’re getting scenes in which Powell’s Dexter and O’Connell’s Tracy indulge in verbal interplay that crackles with the kind of comic awareness that suggests these two people know each other all too well — but is this really the way to rebuild a relationship?
We might assume that a troublesome romantic triangle is emerging just hours before the ceremony — but we’d be assuming wrong. That’s because two journalists have arrived on the scene. And one of them is Macaulay (Mike) Connor (Patrick McManus) who wants to write great literature but instead finds himself a tabloid drudge who can scarcely conceal his dislike of the upper-crust culture represented by the Lords. It’s Mike who throws a further spanner into the works by falling for Tracy himself.
Characters who undergo a journey of self-discovery are part and parcel of our literature. Characters drawn as incisively as Tracy Lord are far less so. A performance that captures Tracy in her full glory is even scarcer.
O’Connell is splendidly, exasperatingly alive. Gray Powell’s devil-may-care Dexter is a perfect complement to O’Connell’s Tracy — but take note: this Dexter is part of a culture that both he and Tracy feel entitled to occupy. There is also splendid work from Patrick McManus, quirky and charming as Mike, the role that won James Stewart his Academy Award.
But then we have Thom Marriott as George Kittredge, Tracy’s husband-to-be, and here’s where the production starts running into trouble. Marriott rarely gets beyond heavy-handed bombast — making it impossible to figure out what Tracy ever saw in him — but this is not the only problem with his portrayal. In a play bristling with social nuance, we need to understand that George is one of the nouveaux riche of Philadelphia society and that as such he will never quite belong in the world of the Lords, that he will never quite be accepted.
Unfortunately, the play’s inherent snobbery is smoothed over too often in this production. In directing it, Garnhum seems hesitant to remind us that this play is really about the privileged classes enjoying their privileges.
This leads to stylistic uncertainty, which contributes to our sense that some characters are not quite on the same page as the others. There are secure performances from O’Connell, Powell, and McManus — also from Sharry Flett, divine as Tracy’s mother, Jeff Meadows cheerfully sardonic as her brother, and Ric Reid as somewhat worldly Uncle Willy. But Juan Chioran seems decidedly uncomfortable as Tracy’s father, Fiona Byrne is a cipher as Mike’s photographer sidekick, and Tess Benger, although engaging as the kid sister, seems too much a sit-com stereotype.
William Schmuck’s set, which gets loud applause for its sumptuousness, looks too much like a — well — set design.
(The Philadelphia Story continues to Oct. 25. Ticket information at 1 800 511 7429 or shawfest.com)