Reviewed by Ron Cohen

Martin Denton · October 4, 2008

You're in for a real treat if you decide to see Nowadays at Metropolitan Playhouse. This entertaining comedy was written in 1913 by George Middleton, but as far as anybody knows has never been produced until now. I suspect it will be produced many more times in the future, now that it's been given a hearing. This New York premiere, directed by Alex Roe, feels practically flawless, so don't wait for someone else to mount this play—see it now.

The play tells the story of the Dawsons, a well-off middle-class American family who live in a suburb of a Midwestern city. William, the patriarch, runs a plumbing supply business. His wife, Belle, was once a painter but gave that up to devote herself to her husband, home, and two children. Both of these children, though grown, are with them at the moment: Sam, the elder, has squandered his allowance (as usual), while Diana, his younger sister, has returned after two years away in the Big City, where she has been trying to start a career as a sculptress.

It is Diana's aspiration that fuels the play: her father, already scandalized and disapproving that a young lady would want to earn her own living rather than marry, love, honor, and obey an appropriate young man, is put to the test when Diana starts to tempt her mother to return to her old dream of becoming an artist. Understand that Dawson is the kind of man who helps his wife hang holiday decorations by ordering the maid to hold her stepstool carefully (and who, when asked a few minutes later who hung them, can reply guilelessly, "I did")—he's a Horace Vandergelder type, who views woman as workhorse as much as helpmate. Understand, too, that this is 1913, seven years before women got the vote; what Diana and later Belle say they desire is certainly not typical of the time. So Diana's assertiveness and Belle's subsequent mini-rebellion set off quite an explosion in the Dawson household.

I won't tell you how it all plays out, but I will tell you that Middleton sketches his characters affectionately and vividly. Most important, he makes it clear that the Dawsons all do love each other deeply (with the possible exception of the oh-so-callow Sam, whose selfishness is untempered by other personality traits; he functions essentially as the villain of the piece). He also provides two charming men who serve as counterpoint to the chauvinistic Dawsons—news reporter Peter Row, who loves Diana but cannot afford to marry her, and Oliver Hardman, Belle's long-ago art instructor, who arrives on the scene as almost a deus-ex-machina to stir up the tempest that Diana has set in motion.

Roe's realization of this delightful play is perfectly lovely. He's designed two sets (for the Dawsons' drawing room and Diana's tiny fifth-floor walkup apartment in New York) that feel cozy and lived-in; and Sidney Fortner has provided costumes that are appropriate and attractive. The eight-member ensemble is excellent, led by Amanda Jones, who is warm, questing, and just a bit naive as Diana, and Lisa Riegel, whose Belle is wise, thoughtful, vulnerable, and curious—the awakening she undergoes in the play is completely convincing. Frank Anderson is outstanding as Dawson, making this pompous pussycat of a man entirely believable and fleshed-out (and very funny). Matthew Trumbull is at his deadpan best as the languid Sam. Michael Hardart is splendidly earnest and likable as Peter, and the chemistry he shares with Jones is terrific—they are indeed a couple to root for. Rounding out the company are George Taylor, a charmer as Hardman; and Linda Blackstock and Jamie Dunn, who offer worthy contrasts to the Dawson women as, respectively, the maid Nellie and Betty, a young woman who may be in love with Sam.

Nowadays' leading ladies are refreshing creations, not just for their own time but for ours as well—they're strong-minded, smart, self-reliant, and tantalizingly complicated. I was most pleased to make their acquaintance, along with the other characters in this fine production. I urge you to get to know them, and soon!

Off Off Online

by Maura O'Brien                   

With the surprising introduction of Governor Sarah Palin to the presidential race, and the subsequent media coverage, the gender politics of Nowadays, a play written circa 1913 by George Middleton, seem fiercely, if bizarrely, relevant. Though some of the positions and jokes can feel as outdated as petticoats, The Metropolitan Playhouse’s exuberant production brings the play to wonderful (newfangled electric) light. As Middleton’s contemporaries did in the early 1900s, Americans continue to argue over the “proper” roles of women in society; for instance, whether it is fair to question a woman’s capacity to handle her maternal responsibilities in addition to those of the vice presidency. It is fitting that The Metropolitan Playhouse, an organization dedicated to unearthing unrecognized American works, focuses on such an American preoccupation, with hilarious results.

 To provide historical context, the early 1900s saw the gradual rise of the call for women’s suffrage, including the publication of Rheta Child Dorr’s “What 8 Million Women Want” (1910). That title happens to be a headline in the “Women’s Suffrage Edition” of the newspaper Will Dawson reads at the start of Nowadays. Dawson tries to dismiss the issue, but finds that his wife and daughter embrace the cause and its principles. As a proponent of women’s rights, Middleton pokes fun at its critics. At one point Dawson says to the newspaperman Peter Row, “… if we had woman suffrage, women would all vote like their husbands.” Row replies, “They say it would double the ignorant vote.”

 Nowadays reduces the scope of such a grand debate by focusing on the issues of the Dawson family of a “middle western state.” The family includes a patriarch, Will, a comically gruff Frank Anderson, his lovely but lonely wife, Belle (Lisa Riegel), his cad of a son, Sammy (Matthew Trumbull), and his self-called prodigal daughter, the play’s spirit, Diana (an energetically wistful Amanda Jones). It is Christmastime and the holidays have drawn the Dawsons back to the homestead—their father hopes for good. As with many family gatherings, the expectations of the old generation grate against those of the new, and arguments ensue.

 Belle’s choices and Will’s reactions form a referendum on women’s rights, but the gravity of the discussion is relieved by Will’s buffoonery, which also highlights the wit and charm of the women in his life—women who are capable of subverting his antiquated expectations to carve out unique identities.

 In addition to prodding her father at every chance and inspiring her mother, Diana interferes in Sammy’s affairs by bringing a surprise guest. Betty Howe is a young woman who shares a secret with Sam, threatening to make a worthwhile man out of him. Where Jones’s Diana is chirpy, Trumbull’s Sammy is wormy and pale, his constant snarl obviously identifying him as the villain. However, given the tone of the script and its jokes, such caricatured portraits are in good fun. Indeed, as the patriarch, Anderson huffs in the familiar way of sitcom dads.

For all of Diana’s bouncy girlishness, Jones holds her own in battles with Anderson, proving that a domineering attitude can not only be practiced by a woman, but also used to propel her forward, rather yoke her to the past (as it does for Dawson). That Diana should succeed in her career as well as in her love life is an essential goal of the play, and she doesn’t have to sacrifice the feminine to achieve traditionally masculine goals.

As set designer and director, Alex Roe uses a cleverly arranged, intricate set to emphasize the strengths of the space. It is a delightfully intimate setting, which reinforces the lived-in charm of the home and highlights themes of claustrophobia and stagnancy. The presence of the audience and the absence of walls perfectly reflect Middleton’s efforts to bring the concerns of the private sphere to public attention.

 However, as radical as the play was (it was rejected by producers), the institutions of marriage and motherhood are not torn down. Middleton playfully chips away at their foundations, but in the end, when his heroines follow their hearts, they do so in a progressive and a traditional sense. They can have their cake and eat it too, just as Middleton does when he mocks, but adheres to some standards of his day. Yet the play’s retro attitude and cheesy jokes are refreshing antidotes to the crude jokes of pit bulls and pigs that currently preoccupy the nation. Chalk it up to the timelessness of good timing!