Theater review: House and Garden

by Arnold Wayne Jones of Dallas Voice

Every actor appears in some good plays and some not-so-good. But what’s going on at Theatre Three right now must be a first: appearing in one of each at the same time. In the Quadrangle’s upstairs space: Alan Aykbourn’s House, a comedy so dry it begins to play like a 19th century melodrama. Downstairs: Aykbourn’s Garden, a near-riotous farce, which employs the same characters — and the same cast — in a simultaneous and complementary plot.

You can appreciate the technique involved in jig-sawing together two shows, with multiple entrances and exits, without finding the experiment successful. But what’s odd about House & Garden is how different the tones are.

The plot is typical Akybourn — a very British, “pip-pip ol’d chap” critique of the upper classes and their sexual peccadilloes. Trish (Kerry Cole) and Teddy (J. Brent Alford), who own the house and grounds where the action is set, haven’t had sex in 17 years — at least, with each other. Teddy’s sleeping with his married neighbor, Joanna (Marisa Diotalevi) but needs to break if off if he expects to be elected to Parliament. But the arrival of a drunken French actress (Emily Gray) tempts Teddy and sends Trish over the edge.

You wouldn’t know all that if you saw just one of the plays, though, which is where one of the problems lies. Aykbourn’s dedication to the idea that every actor appear in both shows sacrifices logic, especially in House. Near the end of Act 2, there’s a climactic, emotional scene between three characters who, between them, have spoken maybe a dozen lines. Their subplot — not all that interesting anyway — only really works in Garden.

Indeed, almost everything about Garden works better than in House. Diotalevi, Dallas’ most charismatic comedienne, gets a mousy cameo in House that doesn’t come close to utilizing her talents. But in Garden, she’s predictably spectacular, drawing guffaws whenever she disappears into a curtain of ivy with the physical brazenness of Lucille Ball. Her complaint about “being flat on my back in all these potting sheds, gazebos and ditches” sends the audience into a spiral of laughter. Gray’s booze sexhound gets to break out downstairs, but she seems merely peripheral in the parlor.

Regan Adair, dashingly handsome but with a menacing air, stands out especially in House, but two other performers bridge both shows effectively. Alford, as a fusty womanizer, trills his lines like Rex Harrison — he sounds as if any moment he will break into a verse of “The Rain in Spain.” And Andrew Phifer plays a goofy, foolish English public-schoolboy with resolve — he’s the most convincingly sketched character in both productions.

David Walsh’s set designs for both shows, including a clever rain effect in Garden, are impressive and use the spaces wisely.

A post-show announcement teases that you don’t have to see both shows, but if you don’t, you’ll always wonder what happened. Maybe. But I’d choose the great outdoors over a living room any day.