By Jeff Hatcher, directed by Matt Sciple
Jon Hassler Theater, August 9, 2007
While the door to the pool house gaped open revealing the snow storm beyond, the Minnesota audience squirmed noticeably as they watched the heat rush out into the winter night—even while sitting in an air conditioned theater in August. When George Holmberg finally shut the door, an audible sigh of relief filled the theater. Perhaps this a testament to the effectiveness of the set and lighting design at representing the snowy winter night of New Year’s eve 1945. But it also reflects an audience that knows the danger of winter and understands the cost of heating fuel. It will take much of the play before the audience will care about the storm brewing inside as much as the snow falling outside.
Mercy of a Storm takes place entirely in a pool house, a small building beside the pool of a private club somewhere in industrial Ohio. The pool house provides a secluded location for the illicit meeting of George, played by Phil Kilbourne, and the much younger Zanovia Chestovich, playded by Lindsay Hinman.
Yet things aren’t exactly what they seem. This secret meeting is between an estranged husband and wife who are meeting, against the advice of their lawyers, to arrive at a settlement for their upcoming divorce or, as the play progresses, to take one more attempt to save their marriage.
Mercy of a Storm derives most of it’s charm from the slow unveiling and unraveling of the world that surrounds George and Zanovia. Among these revelations: The couple had been married only one year, she had been the daughter of George and his late first wife’s house keeper, she is working class Polish Catholic, he is Episcopalian and a member of the Country Club set, their romance had been steamy (and continues to be steamy), and they continually battled over their differences of age and class. The revelations are delicious providing a series of “ah ha” moments as the sometimes shocking details of their lives become clear.
George has just returned from a State Department trip designed to show American industrial leaders the results of their work—the defeat of Nazi Germany. He feels an ownership of the success of Ohio’s steel mills and factories’ contributions to the war effort—though Zanovia points out that as an insurance agent, he didn’t actually contribute all that much.
George is particularly taken by what was not destroyed—by the restraint of the Allies once it was clear that Hitler was going to lose. George sees this as evidence of rules of conduct that must be followed, even in warfare—an acknowledgement that war is not forever and people need to be able to pick up their lives once the fighting stops. He’s comforted by the thought of this decorum, particularly in the city of Dresden, where remarkably, many buildings still stand. But Dresden is flawed evidence of restraint in war. It had remained untouched through most of the war only to be fire bombed into rubble by the British and Americans. Some historians argue that this bombing, one of the most destructive in history, came after the outcome of the war was already inevitable.
George has made elaborate preparations for his own all—out war, with the confidence that he can follow an honorable decorum once it’s clear he has achieved his objectives—a “do no more harm than necessary plan.” But Zanovia can’t see the honor of this “restraint.” She sees that a man willing to make the preparations for a total assault might as well be the man that carries through with them.
The challenge for the director and actors of Mercy of a Storm is to make the audience care more about the characters on stage than the valuable warm air escaping through the carelessly left open door. Carelessness could summarize all of what the audience knows about George and Zanovia’s life—and carelessness can rub a Midwest audience the wrong way. In addition, the social stigma of the marriage presents more impediments to the audience caring about the relationship. From the outside, a man married to a woman the same age as his daughter will always look unbalanced. From the outside, a marriage between a man with a cool country club decorum and a working class woman who speaks with a bitingly honest tongue will seem out of place.
On the one hand, it is a credit to Kilbourne and Hinman that they don’t take any short cuts toward winning the audience. For much of the play, Kilbourne is a stiff and detached fifty-eight-year-old man. He offers few clues to what might have attracted Zonovia in the first place. And Hinman’s Zanovia is crass, superficial, and unpredictable. Her youth and beauty seem to be the only magnetism for George.
But on the other hand, the audience spends most of the play like the rest of the country club crowd, watching the lives of their friends unfold with detached fascination and smug civility. Mercy of a Storm holds the audience at arms length for most of the play hoping to win it over by play’s conclusion. While this may work for some, other audience members are still too worried about the snow and cold, about Zanovia entering the snow with high heels, to worry about the possible fire bombing of the couple’s marriage.
Mercy of a Storm plays Thursdays through Sundays until September 2.
Visit the John Hassler Theater for schedules and tickets: Jon Hassler Theater
diary with songs that
reveal the power of her inner life. Fully faithful to its source material,
Anne’s famous chronicle of two Jewish families secreted in a cramped garret
in Amsterdam during the Nazi occupation is still as suspenseful and moving as
ever. Her writing is propelled by an undying faith in the goodness of people.
This heartbreaking and ultimately uplifting story stirs our deepest emotions as
it insists upon honoring the endurance of the human spirit. Vanessa Gamble
portrays Anne Frank in this production.
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