Review Roundup: What Did The Critics Think of The Public's MOTHER OF THE MAID, Starring Glenn Close?

The Public's Mother of the Maid, starring Glenn Close, officially opened last night, October 17.

MOTHER OF THE MAID tells the story of Joan of Arc's mother (Glenn Close), a sensible, hard-working, God-fearing peasant woman whose faith is upended as she deals with the baffling journey of her odd and extraordinary daughter. This riveting play is an epic tale told through an unexpected and remarkable new perspective. Emmy nominee Matthew Penn directs this deeply moving drama about the glories and challenges of raising an exceptional child.

Let's see what the critics are saying...

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Michael Dale, BroadwayWorld: A frequent subject for playwrights, Joan of Arc has been depicted as a saint, a warrior, an icon, a feminist, a superstar... But to see her as a daughter through the eyes of her mother is an angle that hasn't been tackled in any majors works, making Mother of the Maid a unique, and, as scripted by Jane Anderson, an interesting and entertaining venture.

Ben Brantley, The New York Times: The premise of "Mother of the Maid" is smart, simple and encapsulated in its high-concept title. Ms. Anderson - whose credits include the play "Defying Gravity" and the HBO series "Olive Kitteridge" - revisits the well-plowed terrain of Joan's path to martyrdom from the point of view of her proud but understandably fearful mom.

Sara Holdren, Vulture: It isn't warrior Joan, though, that creates the play's most powerful impression. At the close of Mother of the Maid's first act, Isabelle finally reaches the French court, where her daughter has been away for months, preparing to lead France to a holy victory. Worn out, overwhelmed, and covered in mud, Isabelle won't be put off by her now famous daughter's messages that "she'll be available to see [her mother] after dinner." She's all set to give Joan a piece of her mind, when Beatty's set suddenly transforms into a candlelit chapel, and Joan descends a golden set of stairs, robed in white and cleaner and calmer than we've ever seen her. Close drops to her knees as Van Patten glows - a child who wants her mother's approval and who only half understands what she's been swept up in, smiling out through the picture of a saint. It's a stunning image, and it makes startlingly clear that Joan is now two beings: a real girl and a man-made legend. For Isabelle, it's a moment of wonder, pride, deep love, and, inevitably, loss. Because the men who made the legend will ultimately kill the girl.

Jonathan Mandell, DC Theatre Scene: What Anderson focuses on is not Joan's stubborn virtue (as Shaw did in Saint Joan) but Joan's pain, and her family's grief. They feel betrayed, abandoned - by King, God and country. There is a scene that could not be more affecting between Jacques and Isabelle in which they furiously blame one another for Joan's fate, and end up collapsed in each other's arms.

It is Anderson's writing and Matthew Penn's direction that sets this scene up. But it's the terrific acting of Dermot Crowley and Glenn Close that make it come alive.

Matt Windman, amNY: Anderson sticks to the traditional Joan of Arc story while attempting to imbue it with some originality, but the end result is rather underwhelming. Were it not for Close, I highly doubt the characteristically adventurous Public Theater (which is concurrently presenting the acclaimed Bob Dylan-Conor McPherson work, "Girl from the North Country") would have produced the play.

Greg Evans, Deadline: Just as any and all anachronisms are fully intentional (a well-heeled, condescending Lady of the Court fawns that Isabelle is "faaabulous!"), so too are the teenage-blues archetypes, as young Joanie pouts, sasses and broods her way to impossible danger, breaking her mom's heart along the way, in millions of little pieces.

And that's when Mother of the Maid unleashes its full power. After all the stylized wisecracking and winking, Anderson's tale hits, when it hits, hard. The playwright gives us the terror, not just the idealism, with the cell-bound Joan wailing to her visiting, helpless mother, "Oh God, it'll hurt."

David Rooney, The Hollywood Reporter: Clearly, the writer is aiming in this play to peel away the legend and simply tell the story of any parent losing a child - in this case one forced to stand by and watch as her daughter seizes her independence and then brings about her own downfall by fighting for a cause in which she passionately believes. The push to make it relatable would explain the jarring contemporary language and attitudes that keep lifting us out of the Middle Ages. When Van Patten comes galumphing onto the stage shouting "Hey, Ma!" she's more like Joan of Brooklyn.

Barbara Schuler, Newsday: Under director Matthew Penn, the action moves seamlessly from the Arcs' humble farmhouse to the sumptuous palace of King Charles to a desolate prison cell (scenic designer John Lee Beatty works his typical magic in a tight space). It's hard, though, to take your eyes off Close as she delivers an exquisite and honest display of emotional range, from exasperation to resignation to pride to fury to despair.

David Finkle, New York Stage Review: Close-wearing modest clothes but for a brief dressed-up sojourn in the Dauphin's court (Jane Greenwood is the costumer)-is entirely convincing as an illiterate woman fighting for her daughter's destiny and against her husband's inclination not to accept the exalted, fateful mission.

Elysa Gardner, New York Stage Review: Mother reaches its harrowing climax in a scene where Isabelle prepares Joan for execution, gently undressing and washing the very young woman she has sought to protect throughout her life. In a particularly beautiful, wrenching moment, Isabelle tells her daughter of a visitation from Saint Catherine, Joan's perceived guide. "She just lit up the room," Close says, her voice and expression full of a strange radiance suggesting a place beyond tears. "She's told me she's going to be with you. She said that you should just keep looking up at the sky and she'll take you up with her before the flames even reach you."

Regina Robbins, Time Out New York: Blending recorded history and popular legend, Anderson depicts an ordinary family that is upended when Joan becomes a national standard-bearer. At its core, this is a story every parent can identify with: Your child has somehow become their own person, and you're not sure whether to beam with pride or lock them in their room. At first, Isabelle and her husband, Jacques (Dermot Crowley), attempt the latter, but when they are persuaded by their priest that Joan (a lovable Grace Van Patten) has been divinely chosen to save France, they can only watch in awe as she achieves success they could never have imagined. When Joan is captured by the enemy, however, Isabelle springs into action to save her girl.

Nicole Serratore, Variety: The play dabbles in kitchen-sink (well, medieval-washbasin) drama, situation comedy, awkward mysticism and painfully self-serious memoir. Mixing anachronistic dialogue and accents (suggesting some kind of 1950's working-class schmoes from the Brooklyn of... France?), heavy-handed interstitial music and a visual style still rooted in the 1400's, director Matthew Penn's production unhappily straddles old and new. Sometimes creative juxtapositions can enlighten, but here the tone and approach zig and zag in conflicting directions, making it neither satisfying comedy nor drama.

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