How did Circle Theatre know, planning its 2007-2008 season, that we'd have a winter like the one we just had or a spring ( ? ) like this one, and thus would be sooooo ready for a play celebrating the idyllic pleasures of 'wisteria and sunshine' on the southern coast of Italy? Not that our weather compares to the February in 1922 England, rendered even darker by memories of the recent Great War, that spurs a plucky matron to take action against the gloom. Nor can we estimate the level of daring and audacity reflected in her impulsive decision to vacation in a rented castle on the continent.
Playwright: adapted by Matthew Barber
from the novel by Elizabeth von Arnim
At: Circle Theatre, 7300 W. Madison,
Forest Park
Phone: 708-771-0700; $26
Runs through: June 8
Enchanted April. Photo by Bob Knuth
Her three fellow pilgrims sharing in the holiday expenses are a predictably assorted lot: The expedition's launching, alone, requires Lottie's exuberance to overcome the misgivings of pious Rose, the weltschmerz of socialite Caroline and the Victorian propriety of grumpy Mrs. Graves. Since the ladies are traveling alone, strangers assume that they are widows of soldiers killed in battle. Both Lottie and Rose, however, have husbands living—the former, a stuffy lawyer obsessed with business, and the latter, a fun-loving author of pop-fiction. Ah, but amid the heady atmosphere of the Mediterranean climate—enhanced by the ministrations of the castle's charming young landlord and its earthy housekeeper—tensions, misunderstandings, and painful secrets are banished by spring's resurrective enchantment.
This is hardly surprising. Pastoral sojourns in Latin countries have traditionally served as convalescence for chilly Anglos in fiction. ( Indeed, female tourists today are often startled to discover that their guides have been instructed to flirt aggressively, even annoyingly, with foreign guests. ) But while it's tempting to dismiss Matthew Barber's adaptation of Elizabeth von Arnim's novel as generic romance-pure-and-simple, its purity is nevertheless mitigated by its complexity, with volumes of backstory revealed in a single casual remark.
Brain fatigue is kept at bay, however, by such frivolous spectacle as carefree damsels flitting about in their nighties and a stuffy British gent caught infra dig by a capricious bathtub. This is in addition to Robert Knuth's flower-festooned piazza, Suzanne Mann's scrumptious gowns ( in particular, the quasi-Leon Bakst negligées and fauvist-inspired shoes worn by the boho-chic Lady Caroline ) , and other commensurably capable tech-effects, all crowded into a too-small storefront space that can only reinforce support for Circle Theatre's proposed new playhouse.