Roundabout Theatre Company presents this time-jumping play by J.B. Priestley (AN INSPECTOR CALLS). In 1919 Britain, Mrs. Conway (DOWNTON ABBEY's Elizabeth McGovern) is full of optimism during her daughter's lavish twenty-first birthday celebration. The Great War is over, wealth is in the air, and the family's dreams bubble over like champagne. Jump nineteen years into the future, though, and the Conways' lives have transformed unimaginably.
TIME AND THE CONWAYS takes place at the crossroads of today and tomorrow-challenging our notions of choice, chance and destiny. Tony winner Rebecca Taichman (INDECENT) directs.
If only the play itself lived up to the extravagant - and admittedly powerful - visual metaphor that Patel and Taichman have created for it. But despite intermittent moving moments, the text often feels clunky, dated, and more than a bit sentimental. Taichman, whose work with her actors is sharper in the second act, overplays the first act's saccharine notes, and Paloma Young's costumes fall into the same trap: In 1937, they're crisp and evocative. In 1919, they feel like cotton candy - too sugary, too fluffy, too, well, costume-ish. With so many nails being hit squarely on the head, out in the audience it's easy to feel caught in one of Dunne's time-bending premonitions: We're constantly ahead of the events unfolding in front of us.
There is a disconnect between the big themes of Time and the Conways and its smaller-framed domestic sagas. It's hard to like or care about the characters, who exist in two fundamentally off-putting registers: When they are up, they are rah-rah party kittens playing charades, and when they are down they are grizzly and miserable. We don't know what has happened to them, beyond a few blunt specifics like Ernest's abusiveness. It is hard what to deduce of Mrs. Conway's bizarrely inconsistent moods, or Kay's portents of doom, when both characters are given scant depth. This is an oddly airless play, and it feels even more lost in a large Broadway theater.
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