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Hubbards and non-Hubbards… Review by Rich See,
dcmdva-arts.org reviewer Hubbards and non-Hubbards… There is an unsettling moment towards the end of The Shakespeare Theatre’s The Little Foxes when you realize that you don’t really know with whom to sympathize. It comes when Regina Hubbard Giddens (played by Elizabeth Ashley) sits idly on a sofa, while three feet away from her, her wheelchair bound husband Horace Giddens (played by Keir Dullea) clutches for his heart medicine in the midst of a fatal heart attack. She watches mildly as he drops and spills his medication. She does nothing as he hoarsely and unsuccessfully calls for Addie, the Giddens’ maid. And she smoothes out her dress as he desperately attempts to drag himself up a flight of stairs to get to his only remaining bottle of heart medication. And while she watches and listens to his frantic attempts to save his own life, she says, “…I’m lucky…I’ve always been lucky…and I think I’m about to be lucky again.” It’s a moment of comedic horror, as you realize the stakes in this game are much greater than you ever imagined. While part of you has always wanted her to succeed and go to Chicago, you had hoped she was at least a little different than her brutish brothers, Ben (David Sabin) and Oscar (Jonathan Hadary). But now Regina has turned out to be utterly cold inside and capable of anything, and perhaps more unsettlingly, you realize that you still kind of hope she gets to go to Chicago. And it’s at this point that you realize there is a little bit of Hubbard in each of us. It’s simply the extent we each choose to expand upon our own inner feelings of entitlement and greed that separate the Hubbards from the non-Hubbards. Lillian Hellman’s classic The Little Foxes, which was written in 1939 and produced the same year, is a fascinating hero-less play. The Hubbard brothers although shrewd businessmen, are course and vulgar with no depth of emotion or empathy for others. Oscar’s wife Birdie (Nancy Robinette) is the saddest victim of the Hubbard’s thirst for acquisition and control, someone you pity, but whom you realize offers no hope of defense against these formidable siblings. Oscar and Birdie’s son Leo (Matthew Schneck) is not only mean spirited, but unintelligent; while Horace Hubbard is a man who has come to an understanding of his own place in the world far too late to be effectual. And Alexandra Giddens (Nicole Lowrance), although the nicest of the bunch, is seemingly too young to stand up to the adults around her. And so you pin your hopes on Regina, that although she isn’t all that she seems, that she will at least get away and better herself and hopefully—but your not even really sure she will do this—take her daughter with her. And then she proceeds to help her husband die and talk investments and bonds five minutes after he’s dead. But still you root for her to at least get to Chicago…because it seems such a waste to leave her in this backwater little town. The play is a feast of conflicting emotions, both for the characters on stage and the audience off, which is a testament not only to the playwright, but also to the cast and director of the production. Director Doug Hughes has created a visually sumptuous, fast moving piece, which never has a lagging moment. The beautiful brown toned set designed by Hugh Landwehr implies the earth the Hubbards own, while also showing the dark insides they hide from each other and everyone else. It’s a detailed, intricate set, down to the falling rain outside the windows. Sound Designer, Martin Desjardins’ use of whispers at the opening of the play bespeaks of sinister forces yet to be discovered. The ornate costumes by Jess Goldstein denote a style and sophistication that money can buy, but which the characters do not intrinsically own. Hughes’ cast is an impressive array of national and regional talent. Elizabeth Ashley creates a Regina who is sympathetic even when you realize the depth of her flawed ambition. Her Regina is warm on the outside, cold on the inside. Keir Dullea’s Horace is a believable portrayal of a man in a race to right the consequences of his non-actions before his time runs out. Nancy Robinette’s Birdie is just that—a bird whose wings have been clipped and who finds nothing left in life to sing about save for her niece. The aggressive Hubbard brothers played by David Sabin and Jonathan Hadary each effectively portray men who have learned what money can buy, yet have no innate sense of value for what they own. Matthew Schneck portrays Leo Hubbard as a product of his elders, a combination of cruel foolishness. Nicole Lowrence’s Alexandra grows quickly from child to adult before our eyes in a manner that does not seem contrived or exceptional. Jewell Robinson, Joseph Lane, and Ted Pejovich round out the impressive ensemble as Addie, Cal, and William Marshall respectively. Foxes was Hellman’s warning about a culture predicated upon excessive, remorseless greed. In it she divides the world into “…people who eat the earth and eat all the people on it…” and those who “…stand around and watch them eat it.” It’s not a pretty picture where the Reginas, Bens, and Oscars practice a take no prisoners and scorch the earth policy. And where the Alexandras must decide to take action early on, lest they be like the Horaces and Birdies and become too weak to do anything at all. With today’s headlines of corporate fraud, insider trading, illegal employment practices, and survivor-style TV shows we can see our culture still often promotes and expects getting ahead regardless of the personal, societal, or communal costs. And so Hellman’s message that at some point we each must stop to think about the consequences of our actions and work for the greater good of the world and not just for ourselves remains valid. With The Little Foxes she calls on us not to turn our backs when we know injustice is occurring and reminds us that we each have to claim some responsibility for our actions and inactions, for the world around us, and our part in it. |
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