Children's Hour  shines in troubling times

When speaking of universality in the theatre, people generally refer to the works of Shakespeare. Whether it is Romeo's passion for Juliet, Iago's jealousy of Othello or Lear's suffering, it doesn't matter that these stories are hundreds of years old. They are still relevant.

But there are lessons to be learned from the more recent past as well. Although most people generally think the world has come a long way in the past hundred years, have we really come so far? It is this question which informs the Theater and Dance Program's spring production of Lillian Hellman's The Children's Hour . Despite the fact that the play is more than sixty years old, it still packs a terrifying punch.

Hellman's intense play tells the story of two young women who run a private school for girls. Their lives and school fall apart when one of their pupils accuses the women of being lovers.

This production does an impressive job of handling an extremely difficult play. To expect a group of college students to mount a production as difficult as this is unrealistic. The fact that they not only managed this, but managed it so well, is remarkable. Under the direction of Jane Armitage, Chair of the Theater and Dance Program, the production speaks volumes about the strength of the arts at Oberlin.

The cast of sixteen features only two male actors. This allows a number of talented women the chance to shine. And truly they do. Sophomores Jessica Umphress and Lisa Ward star as the young teachers, Karen White and Martha Dobie respectively. Umphress is warm and vibrant. Her earlier scenes, when she interacts with her young charges, are very convincing. She is confident and full of life and energy, thoroughly believable as a young teacher.

As the play progresses and the action turns ugly, she is urgent and touching. Ward truly rises to the demands of the play. She is strong and unrelenting. In the scene where the young women stand accused by the young child, it is Ward who takes the spotlight. Her anger and rage fill the stage and grip the audience. The final act of the play is the most upsetting and painful. Both actresses skillfully reflect the pain and paranoia that fear and distrust ultimately breed. The two have the stage virtually to themselves for the majority of the third act, and are consistently engaging and impressive.

Sophomore Amy Gunzenhauser also gives a strong performance as Mary, the child who is the source of all the trouble. She is annoying and petulant, as children often can be. There is a frightening undertone to the power she exercises over the other children, her grandmother, and ultimately, over the lives of the two young women.

The one central male character is Joseph Cardin, Karen's young fiancee and Mary's cousin. He is played by first-year Christian Fitchett. Fitchett gives a good performance, but in many ways the play is scripted to allow women the focus of attention. At times he is lost among the other stronger characters. Yet there is a strong chemistry between he and his young cousin Mary, and the scenes between the two are his finest.

The show also features strong supporting performances. Senior Kate Lipsky plays Amelia Tilford, Mary's grandmother. Lipsky has a fantastic make up job and is convincing as an older woman. There is something truly terrifying in the way she cannot vocalize her accusations. In the scene where the young women confront their accusers, Lipsky cowers. The word lesbian is never once said throughout the play. In the scene where Mary first tells her grandmother her tale, she whispers it into her ear.

Sophomore Lauren Greilsheimer plays Lily Mortar, Martha's aunt. In the opening scene, the theatrical woman is telling the girls about life as an actress, describing playing Cleopatra. She represents a larger view of women and their place in society. It is she who first insinuates that there are homoerotic undertones to the nature of Karen and Martha's relationship, suggesting that her niece would feel better if she had a boyfriend. Greilsheimer is theatrical and showy and it is successful.

Artistically and technically, the production is dazzling. The set, designed by technical director Jim Smith, is beautiful. Suspended above the stage are several windows, constantly looking in on the private lives and actions unfolding in silent witness. Another unusual technical effect is the use of recorded sound. At different times throughout the production we hear the sound of whispering or a recording of the McCarthy hearings. But there are other subtle choices which reinforce the themes of paranoia and distrust.

Characters linger on-stage, obscured by windows, listening to others' conversations. In the opening scene, the girls chatter and gossip. The ensemble of girls is believable and lively and their seemingly petty conflicts become a microcosm of the action which is to unfold. One seemingly minor incident of blackmail between Mary and another child, Rosalie ( strongly realized by fifth-year Alissa Rose ) becomes more and more a frightening mirror of the larger plot.

The McCarthy hearings of 1950s America are strongly evoked by the action of the play. But the play as a whole makes a terrifying statement about fear and paranoia, the destructiveness of distrust and gossip, whether in reference to the Salem witch trials or the Red Scare. Another central issue is of course the persecution of homosexuals in society.

It is often easy to forget, in the largely tolerant community of Oberlin, that homosexuality is still feared and misunderstood by much of our society. What is truly terrifying is that in updating this production and setting it in modern times, none of the dramatic thrust is lost. It will be a better day when we can watch this play and know that this is the way the world once was, but no longer is.

Accused!: The Children's Hour  sets McCarthy era persecution in present day horror. (photo by Mike Kabakoff)