As part of its mandate to be devoted to George Bernard Shaw, the Shaw Festival has performed most of Shaw's plays, including some odd and obscure ones. It has also revived or unearthed a number of late nineteenth century or early twentieth century plays in affecting productions that amounted to discovery or rediscovery. Causally or not, several of those works have subsequently been produced by theaters in New York and London, which gained considerable favorable attention, even praise and awards for renewing interest in the lost treasures. I am unaware of any mention of the Shaw Festival in any account of those later "discoveries."
Most of such "archaeology" before current Artistic Director Jackie Maxwell's tenure involved revivals of neglected works by such established playwrights of yesteryear as St. John Hankin and Harley Granville Barker, and even some almost-forgotten works by popular favorites like Noel Coward.
But Ms Maxwell has been digging up gems from practically unknown early Canadian and British playwrights, several of them significantly female. In 2004, she produced and directed Githa Sowerby's powerful Rutherford and Son; and I'd rank this year's treasure, Sowerby's The Stepmother, with surface manager Wells' stumbling upon a huge rock in the Cullinan Diamond Mine that turned out to be the largest gem-quality diamond. That happened only 19 years before The Stepmother had its only public performance ever. See it and you won't believe this brilliant play could have been totally ignored ever since, and you won't believe that it was written 84 years ago.
The story would seem to be about a woman's conflict between work and marriage in the second and third decades of the 20th century in Chilworth, England. But it also manages to explore the central theme of the neglected role of stepmother (in this case a loving and loyal one, not the traditional greedy successor to the children's "real" mother). And it examines many fascinating side-issues, like that of the changing design of women's clothing in the 1920s, providing freedom from physical constraint as well as creative freedom of appearance. Without emphasis or strain, those ideas emerge from exchanges among the women about the frocks they wear/receive/make. William Schmuck's costumes perfectly illustrate the dialogue.
Lois, the central character, is initially seen as a caregiver rewarded in the will of her late employer. Then she becomes the wife of the wastrel paterfamilias, Eustace, who marries her for the money he'd hoped to inherit himself. She also supports him and his daughters as her talents for business and design make her dressmaking business successful. She gives the money from her business as well as her inheritance to Eustace, who is understood by everyone but his daughters and Lois to be a conniving loser. We also see that Eustace has earlier talked his elderly aunt into turning over the house and her money for him to manage, i.e., fritter away. Finally, Eustace attempts to prevent his daughter from marrying because he has lost all of Lois' fortune and cannot provide a dowry; and he reveals that he has mortgaged their home and the assets of Lois' business. Eustace's neighbor, Peter, bought the mortgage out of love for Lois. But even after Lois recognizes the error of her marriage, she is afraid to openly accept Peter's love for fear of alienating her adored stepdaughters.
The characters are entirely believable and nicely developed. The dialogue is certainly from an earlier period than ours but never seems outdated. And the drama is riveting. Jackie Maxwell directs a typically immaculate Shawfest cast with complete naturalness, never suggesting mere theatricality. Jennifer Phipps as the dying Aunt Charlotte is amusing, then touching.
Blair Williams is wonderfully understated and even likable as Eustace, until his character's pompous self-defense finally becomes almost laughable. Patrick Galligan, as Peter, is a standard romantic figure until he has to display notable strength in opposition to Eustace at the end. And Claire Jullien inhabits the enormously appealing Lois with unassuming authority.
I can't imagine that this play will not move on to claim its rightful place among modern dramas.
