Did Lillian Hellman hate men? It's a valid question, I think, for anyone who makes it through 1951's "The Autumn Garden" with eyelids aloft. Quite plainly, the men of this play hate women just as surely as they hate themselves.
The thing about all that hate—particularly when a director is out to lunch—is that it infects the very people who've come to see the show. Jump that shark, and good luck winning your audience back. The current production from Eclipse Theatre offers the kind of flaccid displeasures often associated with amateur theater, a rare misstep for this company.
At its core, the play is a soap opera steeped in iced tea and musty linens. Longtime acquaintances (blue-bloods and blank hearts) vacation each year on the Gulf Coast of Mexico; the women are a cliche of Southern cliches—steel magnolias and wilting gardenias.
They gamely, steadfastly worship the men in their lives—self-loathing types who can barely tolerate the hens they've married. Midlife has arrived like an unwelcome guest for these privileged malcontents, and they stew in their turgid juices until Hellman mercifully runs out of gas.
Talk about your overripe performances. (The accents in director Nathaniel Swift's production are all over the place.) Sometimes, life is nothing more than a collection of pathetic disappointments—a universal, odious dread that I think Hellman wanted to portray in its most unvarnished state.
But I can't remember the last time I saw actors so unsure of themselves. The blame lies with Swift's directorial floundering. "Haven't you lived in the South long enough to know that nothing is anyone's fault?" goes one of the play's better lines. Don't for a minute believe that it's true.
ctc-live@tribune.com
When: Through Dec. 21
Where: Greenhouse Theater Center, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave.
Running time: 3 hours, 5 minutes
Tickets: $25 at 773-404-7336 or eclipsetheatre.com
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