BWW Reviews: OC's Chance Theater Escapes to the 50's in MAPLE & VINE

For the most part, many people have a kind of sentimental, nostalgic affection for the 1950's---that seemingly simpler, more innocent decade where life moved much slower, attitudes were squeaky-clean, and so-called "traditional" moral values were still in fashion.

Back then, the pursuit of happiness---that deity-given right all humans feel entitled to achieve through hard work, perseverance, faith, and, perhaps, some luck---is something most of them in the 50's felt was actually attainable, especially since the innocence of the decade has yet to be tainted by cynical times still to come.

Particularly for American households, this lovely, ideal way of life was represented in pop culture via the carefully-crafted black-and-white images that flickered on grainy television sets across many living rooms (well, those that can afford them, anyway). Turn on the tube and one can live vicariously through the humorous yet still morally honorable lives presented in shows like The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, Father Knows Best, Make Room For Daddy, and later in the decade with Leave It To Beaver and The Donna Reed Show.

For these irony-free, lesson-ladened fictional shows, calm, moral, middle-class living is itself already a sufficient end goal to a happy, fulfilling life (granted, it also really helps if you're smart, somewhat religious, straight, and, most importantly, Caucasian).

But, I mean, on the whole, what's not to love?

Aside from picturesque neighborhoods with white picket fences, pristine lawns, finely-pressed garments, and blemish-free interiors, the post-war decade saw normalcy in finding a nuclear family happily conversing about their respective days at the dinner table. On one end you've got a dapper dad with a firm but kind nature and a successful career (who cares if he smokes and drinks a lot). On the other end, you've got a loving, impeccably-dressed, pearl-draped mother whose only main quests are to keep the home clean, keep her husband happy, and cook bountiful meals for the family (again, who cares if she likes to have a cocktail or two while doing laundry by herself). And the kids' biggest problems? Whether the girl/boy next door will want to go to the soda shoppe or the next school formal.

Though lest we forget, the 50's may seem idyllic and pleasant on the surface, but much of it---as one might expect---was definitely no-so-nice to minorities, gays, and, to a certain extent, women.

Still, the appeal of trading in the hustle and bustle of a 21st Century lifestyle for a 1955 kitsch-cool throwback downgrade is exactly the focus of Jordan Harrison's wonderfully intriguing what-if play MAPLE & VINE, now having its Los Angeles/Orange County area premiere production at the Chance Theater in Anaheim Hills through October 19. Directed by Mark Ramont, the dark dramedy traces the story of an interracial married couple and the drastic steps they take on to not only escape their respective present-day ruts but to further ignite their hopeful pursuit of happiness.

When we first meet Katha (Jennifer Ruckman) and Ryu (Robert M. Lee)---tussling through another restless night in the bedroom of their New York City apartment---the two are whining to each other about their unfulfilling day jobs which have annoyingly infiltrated their minds off hours. Both are clearly dissatisfied with the trajectories of their lives: tearful Katha feels (and acts) like a numb, robotic automaton at her otherwise posh publishing job, while cynical Ryu has grown tired of being a steadily in-demand plastic surgeon catering to the whims of spoiled rich women. (Waaah)

Meanwhile, somewhere in an undisclosed Midwest locale much further away from New York City, Dean (the charming Daniel Fagan) and Ellen (the intriguing Kelly Ehlert)---a congenial, old-fashioned, über-cheery couple flashing forced Stepford Wives smiles---are trying to sell us, the audience, on the positive, enjoyable aspects of casting off one's modern day shackles for the satisfying, more slower-paced lifestyle offered by their cult---er, I mean group---the S.D.O., the Society of Dynamic Obsolescence. They contend that by choosing to live within their closed-off, exclusive community---where it's always 1955 every single day---you're able to harken back to a lifestyle that's more "morally" pure, free of modern distractions, and (apparently) much more self-fulfilling in the long run.

Well, at least that's what it says in their nifty brochure, too.

As luck (and theatrical destiny) would have it, Katha---a complete wreck after a particularly harsh day at work---has a chance meeting with Dean, who's in the city looking for possible new recruits for their fringe society. Katha is quickly enamored by Dean's ecstatic, glossy sales pitch about the S.D.O. and feels their frozen-in-time community is exactly what she needs to escape her dour predicament.

Actually, to be honest, part of me kind of bought it, too.

Soon she even manages to convince her husband to think about the pleasurable aspects of the S.D.O. and to abandon their high-tech, high-stress lives in order to journey back to the fabricated 1955 bubble of this curious community. Of course, the planners that they are, they've also come up with a mutual, secret escape clause: if they need to switch off playing the role of a 1955 couple at anytime to discuss anything that pertains to the now, they must utter a safe word/phrase that only they mutually know. After weighing different options, they settle for the purposely modern day "Hillary Rodham Clinton."

This all sets up an engaging, often witty second act (a much more lively contrast to the more whiny first half) which follows the couple's new but retro life inside the S.D.O., and their awkward, unsettling interactions with the town's most "perfect" couple Dean and Ellen, who've taken Katha and Ryu under their wing.

As expected, life inside the 1955 compound isn't as lovely as it has been advertised, particularly for---surprise!---Dean and Ellen, whose surface cheeriness appears to be a mere facade for the deep wells of anger, jealousy and resentment just bubbling under their feigned smiles (Dean, we later learn, has a secret past that not only isn't kosher in this community, it also keeps haunting Ellen, even here within the seemingly protective walls of the S.D.O.).

Katha and Ryu, meanwhile, are trying to make their new paths work, even though keeping true to a 1955 lifestyle is a challenge for them, especially as an interracial couple---which itself is already a taboo that the S.D.O. community is, um, willing to overlook for now. According to the doctrine of the community, period authenticity is of utmost importance because it establishes a doctrine that all must follow, thus ensuring order and harmony. Adherence to the 1955 mindset is extremely sacrosanct, even if it means subjugating different races, genders, and sexual orientations to the, well, back of the bus, so to speak. Of course, there are limits---as in community members are not going to erect a burning cross in their front lawn anytime soon. Yes, geez... let's hope not.

So for her part, Katha tries her best to play the happy homemaker, staying home all day while testing new recipes for her hubby and preparing pigs-in-a-blanket hors d'oeuvres for her very judgmental guests. Ellen has also recruited her to serve in the Authenticity Committee, helping to school fellow residents on the do's and don'ts of 1955 (she even, wow, encourages fellow residents to vandalize their property once in a while just to reiterate a bi-racial couple's standing during this decade). As for Ryu, one of the few minorities that have signed up to live here, he's been relegated to assembling pre-fab boxes one at a time. Understandably, the former doctor is bored out of his mind, even though he's clearly kicking ass in the task. Could a promotion be in the horizon perhaps?

A smart, thoughtful, and sometimes outlandish play, MAPLE & VINE populates itself with interesting characters that you feel you may know, but then are delightfully surprised by as layers of their personality are slowly peeled away. At first, I found Katha to be too whiny and Ryu a bit blank---the kind of people that talk and talk about their #FirstWorldProblems and let their ennui overtake all other topics of conversation. In the grand scheme of things, both characters have awesome, enviable jobs, yet somehow these jobs have become a source of tedium for them personally.

"You should feel so lucky!" is something my dad would probably yell at them if he met these two.

But you know what they say about those damn books and their damn covers.

It is only when you see some joy creep through from Katha and Ryu in the second act---as they try out the simple life and discover little things about each other---do they finally earn our empathy. Of course, it also helps that they are placed in stark contrast up against the drama that is Dean and Ellen, a couple so married to the idea of pretending that they are slowly killing themselves from within. Seeing their story in connection with Ryu's boss Roger (James McHale) reminds us why progress---the very kind everyone at the S.D.O. is so quick to abandon---isn't such a bad thing.