Playwright: Simon Gray. At: Hubris Productions at the Greenhouse, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave. Tickets: 773-404-7336; www.hubrisproductions.com; $25. Runs through: Aug. 11
Is this what the poetry of T.S. Eliot does to scholars? Professor Ben Butley, whose special field of study is the author of The Hollow Men and Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, has absorbed the puckish solipsism of his subject to now exhibit the maturity of a 2-year-old, swilling whiskey from a bottle in his office, neglecting his teaching responsibilities (not to mention his personal grooming) and flinging his refuse at whomever dares approach him. Both his wife and his boyfriend, we are not surprised to learn, have announced that they are leaving him—news that Ben is not taking quietly.
Every large organization usually harbors somebody like this (though the species seems to gravitate towards university English departments). In real life, those forced to keep company with such annoying personalities find ways to circumvent the toxic dynamic engendered thereby. Aaaaw, but where’s the fun in that? So asks Simon Gray, who dictates that Ben’s colleagues, students and companions acquiesce to the repellent academic’s schemes and harangues with the unwavering civility of gullible strangers. Is this simply British manners? Or are we to assume that Butley is some sort of Doctor House-like genius and thus licensed to bully?
More puzzling than the question of why Ben’s acquaintances put up with him is why we should tolerate nearly two hours of his tantrums. Director Michael D. Graham could have caricatured the victims as broadly as he does their abuser, thus inviting us to share in the latter’s contempt for them. (Gray insists that his female characters, no matter how composed initially, eventually dissolve into tears—thus hinting at his sentiments.) This Hubris Production rejects easy laughs, instead allowing Ben’s comforters to come off as pretty decent folks, all said, even to delivering their persecutor his comeuppance with a wholly-undeserved humanity and restraint.
Faced with playing the most charmless hero since Richard III, Jacob Christopher Green gives it his all, spewing forth vitriol and doggerel (Eliot buffs may recognize some of both) with an calculation designed to assure us that his infantile actions are carefully premeditated. What distinguishes protagonists from mannequins, however, is their ability to make choices. The brief moment when our splenetic man-child rejects an opportunity to continue in his selfish misanthropy may seem small redemption for a pilgrim who strayed so far from the right path, but it opens the door—if only a tiny bit—to hopes of a change for the better.