The American Plan, St James Theatre - theatre review

Richard Greenberg’s play is psychologically probing, at times calling to mind the novels of Henry James, but it switches uncomfortably between ingenious comedy, a ponderous talkiness and the heavy pathos of a soap opera
14 July 2013

Richard Greenberg's early Nineties play is a study of passion and deception. Set in the Sixties, it focuses on the lives of holiday-makers in the Catskills, a lush destination 100 miles north of New York City.

“The American plan” of the title is a regime of round-the-clock nourishment. It’s also a symbol of unhealthy conformism, and Greenberg’s characters chafe against the strictures of their age.

At the play’s heart is Lili, a fragile and neurotic college drop-out who indulges in wild fantasies. Her dominant mother, Eva, is a terrible snob who fled Nazi Germany “on the last boat” and seems intent on clinging to the wreckage of her past — even enthusing about “a steak the size of a jackboot”.

Diana Quick gives Eva a thick Teutonic accent and plenty of zest. This crafty widow is witty and manipulative yet also mournful, and Quick savours the role’s satisfying textures. Meanwhile, Lili is a striking mix of nervous energy and glossy exaggerations: Emily Taaffe does a fine job of evoking the sometimes thrilling agony of striving for independence in a society that mostly seems insular and constrained.

Greenberg makes no apology for mimicking the conventions of a fairytale. Lili is an ethereal princess and Eva the dragon who endangers her. But a saviour comes along — or at least appears to — in the form of Nick, an aspiring architect who bursts into Lili’s world in a state of damp and handsome undress. His preppy charms and odd poses (“I cause happiness,” he says at one point) are nicely conveyed by Luke Allen-Gale.

A melodramatic entanglement develops. It becomes more complex after the arrival of ambitious Gil (Mark Edel-Hunt). He feels like a character straight out of a novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald, while Dona Croll’s low-key domestic Olivia is the one steadying presence.

This is a psychologically probing piece, which at times calls to mind the novels of Henry James and also has touches of Tennessee Williams at his most lyrical.

David Grindley’s elegant production started life in Bath in the 126-seat Ustinov theatre and now transfers to this 312-seat venue.

In the larger space the aching moments of malaise don’t always resonate. And the play switches uncomfortably between ingenious comedy, a ponderous talkiness and the heavy pathos of a soap opera.

Until August 10 (0844 264 2140, stjamestheatre.co.uk)

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