Bleak whimsy

SFGT's Homecoming is a delightful dark comedy

by Bill Rodriguez

THE HOMECOMING. By Harold Pinter. Directed by Judith Swift. With Anthony Estrella, Kate Lohman, Sam Babbitt, Nigel Gore, and Stephen Lynch. At the Sandra Feinstein-Gann Theatre through March 7.

When it comes to the ominous dimension of Harold Pinter's patented "comedy of menace," The Homecoming is deceptively comical. But the edgily nuanced production now at SFGT

wonderfully shifts the imbalance back toward the bleak, without losing the whimsy. This take on Pinter lets his dark humor emerge on its own and reminds us why the brilliant playwright finds human relationships so grim that only laughter can save us from the absurdity.

After six years away in America, ensconced in a Midwestern college with his Ph.D. in philosophy for further comfort, Teddy brings his wife to meet the family. To call them dysfunctional is like calling Charlie Manson a rascal. It's an all-male household -- Dad, uncle, two brothers -- and misogynistic enough to wilt flowers. We don't wonder why Teddy has been out of contact with his working class roots, having married just before he left for the states. The trouble is, not only doesn't his bride shrink back demurely from this tribe of slavering Neanderthals, but she fits right in!

What a lark Pinter is on, giving the monsters oversized teeth. Father Max (Nigel Gore) is a retired second-generation butcher, a doddering bully with a hair-trigger temper. His instinctive response to being surprised to see Teddy and wife is to scream at him for bringing a whore to his old bedroom. The greeting of fastidious brother Lenny (Tony Estrella) to his newly discovered sister-in-law is to try to terrify her with a tale, which may or may not have happened, of not killing a prostitute only because it would have been too much bother. Then there's dim-witted aspiring boxer brother Joey (Stephen Lynch). His way with women is exemplified by a description of his having turned a coercive sexual encounter matter-of-factly into rape. The only one more human than not is 63-year-old Uncle Sam (Sam Babbitt), who takes pride in doing a good job as a chauffeur.

Director Judith Swift makes some clever decisions here, creating many a chilling moment in a play that can be reduced to the outlandish cavorting of misfits. Besides letting the laughs find their own way out of the text, Swift and ensemble take every opportunity to accent the subtle menace. This is not a family that takes even petty disagreements lightly. Teddy straightens out the footstool at Dad's easy chair and Lenny immediately puts it back the way it was. Lenny hands Ruth an ashtray that she taps an ash into; but he keeps it extended until she gives in and stubs her cigarette out. Wonderful little duel.

The truly central characters become talkative brother Lenny and impassive Ruth, because of the little dances of willfulness that they do around each other. And Estrella and Lohman do these little perverse gavottes divinely. What could be mere bouts of one-upsmanship become quietly consequential, and quite delicious, struggles of status.

The ensemble interlock nicely. Gore is marvelously feral when his Max's temper snaps, which is often, going from sunny disposition to thunderclaps in a heartbeat. Lynch is quite wonderful as the simple-minded Joey, a seraphic glow filling him at any hint of acceptance. Babbitt provides a solid foundation as the dutiful Sam, a reminder that these people are in fact of our species. As for O'Brien's take on Prof. Teddy, I had trouble getting beneath the surface of the character, trouble sensing what the man was experiencing torn from his sherry-sipping milieu. One of the strengths of this play is that Teddy can be played either invulnerable or defeated and the story can still work; but if he waffles, all bets are off.

The Homecoming is perhaps the most enigmatic play of a notably enigmatic playwright, but the characters are so pure and single-minded in their faults and flaws that their various self-imposed hells become crystal clear to us. We don't have to know where a bullet's coming from to be impressed by its impact. It doesn't matter whether Ruth's background includes convent or brothel, whether she mainly wants to piss off her husband or leap into lust, her final, willful actions have a beautiful intensity of purpose.

But The Homecoming may be as politically incorrect as could be. I think that in the most perverse way imaginable this play is a hilarious feminist assertion, although at first glance the fate of Ruth may seem problematical. Check out this intelligent production and decide for yourself.