Heartbreak House

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

How could one word possibly be funny? There is nothing funny about the word rum. Not really. There is no reason to create a smirk, a smile or even a giggle. It might tantalize the taste buds, but nearly bring down a house?

Kristina Denise Pitt as Ellie in Germinal Stage Denver’s production of Heartbreak House by George Bernard Shaw.

George Bernard Shaw does it by putting it in the mouth of Captain Shotover, a crusty, disillusioned sea captain who finds penetrating philosophy at the bottom of a glass of rum. The more bottoms of glasses he sees, the more penetrating the philosophy. Let Ed Baierlein assume the persona of Shotover with diction as sharp as Shaw’s pen, and the appreciative humor behind the three letter word rings throughout the theatre.

At the beginning of World War I, Shaw took a trenchant approach to England, symbolically placing her under the Bohemian household of the 80-something patriarch Shotover and his sundry money-hungry, romance-grubbing, superficial fluffed out, puffed out, complacent family and wannabees.

A child in a woman’s dress, Ellie Dunn refreshingly portrayed by Kristina Denise Pitt, accepts an invitation to the house by Shotover’s eldest daughter, Hesione. Suzanna Wellens playfully, and skillfully breathes exceptional life into Hesione through her eyes and her flamboyant body language. As though playing a game of high-strung chess, Hesione plays each member of the household against each other, with each other, for sheer scintillating joy. Her eyes consistently keep the beat to her erratic dance of nothing to lose. In the midst of a free for all, she laughs, “Go ahead pull my hair. It won’t do you any good. It comes off at night anyway.”

There’s a method to her free for all dance. Even though she acts as though she doesn’t remember Ellie, she intends to discourage her child-like friend from marrying the blowhard money mogul Boss Mangan. The boorish I-want-everyone-to-think-I’m filthy-rich-even-though-I-don’t-have-a-dime-to-my-name flaunting spectacular snob comes alive with intense expertise provided by Chuck Wigginton.

On stage way too little, to drink in her palatable performance as Nurse Guinness, Laura Booze makes the most of her wandering entrances and exists. Guinness never seems to know where she has come from or where she is going, taking every opportunity to drink from the bottle of wine she carries on a platter. Booze carries her on her shoulders with colorful whimsy “you may not think I know what I am doing, but I really do know these people.” She’s a treat in a house of treatment. Would Guinness had more opportunity to aimlessly wander more often, even though there is much scrutinizing repartee running back and forth between everyone else demanding attention.

Shotover’s youngest daughter, Lady Ariadne Utterword, known as Addy played with slinky arrogant confidence by Lisa Mumpton, returns after a 23 year absence. Shotover denies her existence. Ellie doesn’t recognize her. Accompanying her is Randall Utterword, a rather sluggish dog-obedient, anger-tipped Brother-in-law played with chameleon colors by Jacob T. Moorehead. Moorehead’s expressive controlled behavior is delightful when Addy demands he go to bed, leave the room, sit, and lie down, just short of asking him to play dead. Reaching the pinnacle of patience, he explodes with uncontrolled actor’s control.

Shotovers son, Hector stands observant, displaced, a part of yet separate resigned to doom. Some of the most poignant lines come from his loose mouth precisely orchestrated by Stephen R. Kramer. It is Hector who insists, “We are useless, dangerous, and ought to be abolished.”

England in the midst of the Great War and Shaw runs through his favorite themes of social theory, sexual conflict, money focused superficial one-dimensional appearance. The only reference to the war is at the end when zeppelins drop bombs in the midst of a gravel pit surrounding the garden. Even though Shaw’s dysfunctional family has to know this time is coming, no one talks about it. Hector turns on all the lights in the house to guide the planes. Hesione wraps herself in childish delight over the thrill of falling bombs. The event points to the poignant clarity of Shotover’s rum-edged philosophy.

Although it first appears, Heartbreak House rambles without a plot, it rambles with a distinct purpose evaluating personalities and relationships and social conscious themes. It is as pertinent today as it was when Shaw carefully ran his words through the pencil sharpener. Brilliantly executed, masterfully conceived, this is one production not to miss.