Servants Of Truth and Passion

GOING TO A STRINDBERG play is always a theatrical gamble. Depending upon your constitution, you run the risk of overlooking the playwright's suggestion of religious redemption and emerging frustrated by the callous and fatalistic character nature seems to take. Moreover, depending upon the actors, you run the additional risk of getting depressed, and getting depressed slowly. Consequently, producers betting on a sure fire success tend to be wary of a Strindberg production.

Luckily, however, such caveats do not deter the North House and Leverett House Drama Societies from staging a joint production of Miss Julie that is solid and, at times, even sparkling.

Given the obstacles the script presents, this in itself is a commendable effort. Though the play does purport to concern itself with the plight of Miss Julie (Andrea Dishy) and her servant (Dean Norris), its heavily Marxist language and tone often undercut the development of the characters as individuals. Moreover, while many of Strindberg's speeches are poetic and inspirational, much of the script is repetitious. The virtual absence of any physical action, coupled with a cast of only three characters, makes for a dangerously static 90 minutes if director and cast aren't careful.

Moreover, the cast also seems to be up against financial constraints. Judging from the xeroxed program and the spartan set, it appears that Producer Anne Dowden had limited financial resources. Yet in spite of these apparent budgetary constraints, both costumes and set reflect a careful attention to taste and detail. The set--like the scope of the play--is appropriately simple.

MUCH OF THE PLAY'S success relies on the ability of director Chad Hummel to bring out the moral ambiguities of seemingly clearcut moral issues. Admittedly, Miss Julie is a manipulative coquette who delights in ordering Jean to kiss her feet and be her dance partner. Yet as Dishy's performance illustrates, Julie is also a pitiable character, a girl with a sordid past and an emotionally empty present. Similarly, Norris' refreshingly human portrayal of Jean transcends the stereotype of the noble savage and simple Marxist social commentary. While Jean admittedly experiences humiliation as a servant of aristocrats, it is not Julie--but rather Jean himself--who is in great part responsible for his savage character.

Surprisingly, Hummel's essentially conservative interpretation of the drama lies at the heart of much of its success. In avoiding the tendency to turn Julie and Jean's romance into a modern-day social commentary, Hummel maintains the aristocratic character so central to Miss Julie. The love scene is confined to an appropriately small, 19th century staging, as is the confrontation between Julie and Jean. In both action and design nothing seems extraneous.

Because of the absence of physical action, the actors pay careful attention to maintaining the proper emotional balance. And for the most part, such carefully modulated performances are successful. Norris and Dishy maintain a constant level of sexual and psychological tension, yet they never allow it to get out of hand. Though such control does keep Dishy from initially conveying an adequate sense of humiliation after losing her virginity, by the time the play climaxes, both she and Norris bring their emotions to a powerful simmer.

AS A SECONDARY, yet vital character in the drama, Kristine (Lisa Freinkel) works effectively to moderate the tension between Jean and Julie. Her performance is low-key enough to keep from becoming heavy-handed, yet powerful enough to give the drama the necessary feeling of religious hope at its conclusion. Kristine's insistence that Jean "look her in the eye" and assure her he is still loyal is unquestionably one of the most powerful moments in the production.

Admittedly, the play does intermittently descend into a maudlin sort of melancholia, aggravated by its overtly economic swipes on upperclass values. It isn't enough, for instance, for Jean to tell Julie that "love is a game we [the servants] play when we get time off front work;" he has to reiterate it to Kristine to the audience, and to himself. These, however, are faults of the playwright, not the cast, and encumbrances which the actors manage to handle well. Norris is particularly careful to keep his monologues from turning into didactic speeches, so that the characters dominate the themes, and not the other way around.

As a naturalist drama which explores individual loneliness in the context of class and convention, Miss Julie is a moving, if at times predictable, piece of drama. Yet because the cast and director bring out the play's moral ambiguities on a small, moderated scale, they manage to overcome virtually all external impediments. As Strindberg goes, it is definitely a gamble well worth taking.