Dec. 09--Playwright Sarah Ruhl, who grew up on Chicago's North Shore and has enjoyed a long and extensive relationship with several Chicago theaters, has published a new book of prose, "100 Essays I Don't Have Time to Write." One entry in that charming volume is especially telling: "Why I hate the word whimsy. And why I hate the word quirky."
Both those monikers are often applied to Ruhl, hence the countering essay. I certainly recall their application when "The Clean House," which Remy Bumppo Theatre Company opened at the Greenhouse on Monday night in its second major Chicago production, was first produced at the Goodman Theatre, back when Ruhl was a lesser-known scribe. I just reread my review of that 2006 production. "Quite an astounding felicity for sensual and whimsical theatrics," I wrote. Ruhl has penned lots of plays; "quirky" has made several Ruhl-induced appearances in this publication too.
The Remy Bumppo production is problematic in some ways. But it was nonetheless revealing and highly pleasurable to experience "The Clean House" eight years on, now that I've overcome, I think, my fascination with Ruhl's form and am better able, perhaps, to focus on the heart of her dramatic matters. She writes of divides and dichotomies, and does so very personally, of course, since those exist within herself. "The Clean House" is really a look at the merits of cleanliness -- in terms of the implications of that rather repressive word involving order, clarity, practicality, hygiene and repression.
Ruhl is asking: Should life be lived as clean as possible? Or does love, happiness, sex, passion, personal fulfillment require some rolling around in the dirt?
"The Clean House," which is directed by Ann Filmer using a classy set design from Grant Sabin, is also a remarkably rich portrait of grief. Its central character, a Brazilian maid named Matilde (Alice da Cunha), who has a job cleaning the house of an uptight American doctor, Lane (Patrice Egleston), is mourning the loss of her parents (played, in flashback, by Charin Alvarez and Shawn Douglass). They were fun-loving people -- comedians, Matilde tells us. They were fun and loving, but their gags of choice were dirty. And much of the action of "The Clean House" involves Matilde teaching her employer and that employer's needy sister Virginia (Annabel Armour) about the virtue of the messy. Matilde does, though, believe in the cleansing power of the joke.
Given the central role of cathartic joke-telling, "The Clean House" could do to be a lot funnier than is the case in this production. Da Cunha's performance is engaging and honest, but this young actress hasn't cracked the character's outsize playfulness nor probed the depths of her determined resilience. On Monday night, I found the show underpaced. One felt ahead of the play, which is never ideal, although if you have not seen this fine American play before, you may find that is not so much of an issue. I cannot, of course, un-see having seen and so admired this play before.
Along with pace, more tension and much higher stakes, I mostly craved more old-fashioned believability from these characters -- it's easy for Ruhl stagings to become mannered, and this one falls into that trap on occasion. Egleston has moments when her honesty shines through, and Armour is intriguingly eclectic throughout, but that crucial referent to life as it is really lived feels forced.
In one of the play's more telling moments, Lane observes that it is better to have a husband who is "not too good-looking" so you don't have to worry about him. Stupid, right? Maybe. Maybe not. And don't pretend you have not thought of that issue in some form in your life.
The show has its moments and pleasures. But the production needs less whimsy, less mannered quirk, more straightforward truths. In fairness to Filmer, it can take a long time to get past that stuff with Ruhl (see paragraph two, above). But the deeper riches lie so hidden. In careful, messy piles.
cjones5@tribpub.com
Twitter @ChrisJonesTrib
2.5 STARS
When: Through Jan. 11
Where: Greenhouse Theater Center, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave.
Running time: 2 hours
Tickets: $42.50 -- $52.50 at 773-404-7336 or remybumppo.org
