Writers' Theatre gets 'Real' with first-rate Stoppard revival

Words. Words. Words.

Few playwrights employ them to as dazzling effect as Tom Stoppard. The skill which with he does so is evident in the literate musings and witty rejoinders of the characters populating his brainy, shrewdly constructed plays.

In “The Real Thing,” an articulate examination of love and fidelity among upper-crust Brits undone by adultery, the playwright addresses in plain terms the knotty dilemma that underscores the play. The dilemma is this: when it comes to love, what is the real thing? How do you know when you've found it? And how do you keep it once you have?

Writers' Theatre in Glencoe opens its 20th season with what is arguably Stoppard's most personal, most deeply-felt play. Artistic Director Michael Halberstam's vigorous, razor-sharp revival had me leaning forward in my seat, so engrossed in the performances of his top-notch ensemble that intermission came as a surprise, and the curtain came as a disappointment.

“The Real Thing” opens with architect Max (John Sanders) confronting his wife Charlotte (Natasha Lowe) about the affair he believes she's having. The conversation, which unfolds with typical Stoppardian brio, concludes with Charlotte's exit and the accusation unconfirmed.

As it happens, the scene is all artifice. Max and Charlotte are actors performing in a play titled “House of Cards,” written by Charlotte's playwright husband Henry (the properly self-possessed, ever credible Sean Fortunato), a smug intellectual and closeted romantic.

Max is married to actress and sometime activist Annie, astutely played by newcomer Carrie Coon, whose layered performance makes appealing this ever-confounding character. Annie and Henry are having an affair, the revelation of which ends both relationships and leaves the needy Max (played with straightforward decency by Sanders), a mess.

The more resilient Charlotte (the subtle, intuitive Lowe, whose facial expression has as much impact as any dialogue she utters) fares better. In fact, she disabuses Henry of the notion that the commitment one makes at the altar is forged in stone.

“There are no commitments, only bargains. And they have to be made again every day,” she says stating without fanfare that essential truth necessary to sustain a relationship.

Henry and Annie marry, but they don't necessarily end up with a winning hand. Annie's political involvement with the lowbrow Brodie (Ryan Hallahan) — a would-be playwright jailed for defacing a war memorial — causes a rift between the couple.

Because Annie supports Brodie's cause, she overlooks his inelegant writing which Henry rejects as passionate banalities or as he says, “stale revelation(s) of the newly enlightened.” Henry responds with an ardent, cricket inspired defense of the power of words to give ideas flight.

But their problems go beyond artistic differences after a young actor (Jordan Lane Shappell) catches the eye of the capricious Annie, leaving Henry in the unenviable position once occupied by Max.

It is Henry — a wordsmith like Stoppard — around which “The Real Thing” revolves. Henry is typical of Stoppard's characters, wry, detached and disinclined to express emotion. But that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. And when he does feel love, he expresses it not with his typical highbrow references, but in the everyday parlance of a card game.

Henry describes love — real love — to his too cynical teenage daughter (played by Rae Gray) as the undealt card, that secret part of oneself shared exclusively with one other person. The simple metaphor, made memorable by Fortunato's unassuming, eloquence, animates the play's most profound observation.

Written by a master, masterfully performed, “The Real Thing” it is.

“The Real Thing”

★ ★ ★ ½

<b>Location: </b>Writers' Theatre, 325 Tudor Court, Glencoe, (847) 242-6000 or <a href="http://www.writerstheatre.org" target="_blank">writerstheatre.org</a>

<b>Showtimes: </b>7:30 p.m. Tuesday and Wednesday; 8 p.m. Thursday and Friday; 4 and 8 p.m. Saturday; 2 and 6 p.m. Sunday through Nov. 20. Also 2 p.m. Oct. 12 and Nov. 16. No 6 p.m. show Oct. 16 and Nov. 20

<b>Running time: </b>About 2 hours, 15 minutes, with intermission

<b>Parking: </b>Street parking adjacent to theater

<b>Tickets: </b>$45-$65

<b>Rating: </b>For adults, contains mature subject matter