We get the first hint of the strong autobiographical element in Tennessee Williams’ play, The Glass Menagerie with Robert Moloney’s introductory narrative, informing the audience that this is a “Memory” play: “I am the opposite of a stage magician. He gives you illusion that has the appearance of truth -- I give you truth in the pleasant disguise of illusion." Molony, as Tom Wingfield tells us in the play's opening scene.

The use of Tom as storyteller emphasizes the character’s responsibility of Williams’s own voice, who, in writing the play was perhaps influenced by his guilt from abandoning his sister Rose in a state sanatorium. It likely also accounts for his sympathetic treatment of the character of Laura Wingfield.

Director James Fagan Tait deserves much of the credit for a meritorious but short-of-perfection production. His handling of the engrossing candlelit scene between the gentleman caller and the emotionally fragile Laura was incredibly moving, giving his actors the opportunity to expand their character’s nuances.

Gabrielle Rose is complex as Amanda, the family’s matriarch and moral compass. She is flinty and at the same time flirtatious; sensitive, yet infuriatingly shrewish. She is obsessively controlling of her adult children to the point of smothering. It’s probable that Rose’s portrayal mirrors the playwright’s own mother’s unintentionally afflictive tendencies. There is a scene in the first act, when Amanda is asked to show consideration for her son’s need for quiet while writing. Instead of complying, she intervenes by dragging in additional lighting and then offers an intrusive lecture on writing posture.

Cherise Clarke’s performance as the shrinking violet, Laura is a perfect counterpoint to Gabrielle Rose’s over-played role of her character’s mother. Her vulnerability and detachment are almost palpable when watching her toy with her collection of crystal animal figurines that gives the work its title.

Robert Moloney’s dual roles as Tom and narrator are harder to assess. He works hard to be convincing in both roles, but his depiction of a frustrated poet never really comes through. Craig Erickson as Jim, the gentleman caller, certainly looks the part of a former athletic hero and almost single-handedly moves the story forward in the second act.

Robert Gardiner and Marsha Sibthorpe team up to provide an atmospherically lit and visually effective set.

The apocalyptic ending is trademark Williams – evincive that for many, life is over before its natural end.

© 2007 John Jane