So what if it's 19th-Century melodramatic; The Heiress is plain old-fashioned good, like its heroine Catherine -- until she comes to realize how her father and her suitor, each in his own way, withholds love out of selfishness. Then no one -- not even Aunt Lavinia who has more than once conspired to help her elope with Morris Townsend -- can trick Catherine into being anything but her father's heiress: one who's loved very powerfully once but never will again.
In the Wedgewood blue and white drawing room of the opulently appointed Washington Square, New York, home of Dr. Austin Sloper, his sister Lavinia in widow's weeds, satin-and-lacey, looks more like a marriageable belle than does her niece. The contrast is heightened during a visit from handsome Aunt Elizabeth (Katherine Tanner, full of dignity) and lively cousin Marian (cute Lauren Orkus). Despite her billowing, shiny cherry gown, Catherine looks lusterless and acts dull. Her father seems quite right to be suspiciously disapproving when he later finds Morris, who was introduced during that visit, has been returning to court his daughter. The dramatic theme thus set, variations will reveal the principles' psyches and how those affect their relationships.
Under Barbara Redmond's direction, however, the drama seems like one of 17th century humours, with each actor exemplifying a particular trait. Making literal Catherine's hangdog feelings, Meredith Maddox casts her head down and to either side when paid the slightest attention. As Lavinia, Heather Corwin is more than giddy, constantly giggling in crescendo. (Young people in the audience unkindly roared at both quirks, but they did grow funny enough to detract from better aspects of the performances.) Francisco Lozano, a less than polished Morris, is handsome and eager enough, yet given to facing the audience to deliver seemingly prepared speeches.
Michael O. Smith, so professional as Dr. Sloper, personally emphasizes sarcasm over indignation and authority over disappointment toward others. Frightening in his condemnation of Catherine, who "killed her mother in being born," he's not so hot toward the other women either, even when the script affords opportunities. Luciann Lajoie's "trait" as Morris' sister is quietude. Mary Lipple's sweet maid Maria bustles about caringly, though she speaks stereotypical stage Irish.
