All that needs to be done is to look at Linda Lavin: Burberry trench coat, expensive silk scarf, high heels, perfectly coiffed hair, and what used to be called “great gams,” truly gorgeous legs. This is Anna, a woman of a certain age who is mother to twins Seth (Greg Keller) and Abby (Kate Arrington). She is self-involved and vain, but does have real affection for her kids. Add to the picture an accent Seth calls “Flatbush on the Thames,” and we learn that she’s pretentious. Anna craves not only attention, but worship. As a mother, she’s somewhere between Marmee and Joan Crawford. An obituary writer by profession, Seth struggles to explain his parent. Keller is a New York version of Jonny Lee Miller, able to be vulnerable and sarcastic by turns, attractive but not distractingly handsome. We easily empathize with him. When Seth figures out the real reason that he was dragged to Julliard week after week for music lessons, he makes it clear that missing pieces of his adolescence are finally starting to complete his family puzzle. The truth is, while Seth toiled away, Anna was carrying on an affair with a stranger (John Procaccino) who was not who he seemed to be. When Anna and her lover finally exchange their deep dark secrets, the dalliance comes to an end. Both Seth an Abby are gay. Author Richard Greenberg doesn’t expound, perhaps to highlight the fact that it’s a natural state of affairs, and not deeply entwined in the family dynamic. Arrington is touching as she describes an unexpectedly simple but profound moment in a relationship she had considering abandoning. It’s no coincidence that what Abby really craves is a partner who is nurturing and warm. We glimpse Anna as both an unhappy but vibrant middle aged woman, and as a fading matron on what may be her deathbed. How much of what any of us remember is fact, and how much is our perception? If we wish long enough, will that turn fiction into almost-fact? No matter how lacking in caring our parents may have been, are we still obligated to come running when they need us? And at the end of the day, how much are we required to accept our family myths?
