“Pride & Prejudice” At The Guthrie

Anna Sundberg (Caroline Bingley)  and Vincent Kartheiser (Fitzwilliam Darcy); Photo by Michael Brosilow.

For almost the entirety of the first act (despite its flaws) The Guthrie Theater’s adaptation of “Pride and Prejudice” (written by Simon Reade, directed by Joe Dowling) is delightful.  The swirl of scenery, the familiar faces in period costumes, the comic romance of the dialogue–it’s frothy, it’s fun, and the audience is obviously having a good time.

For those who missed the book and the multiple movies:  “Pride and Prejudice” tells the story of the Bennet Sisters (all five of them), daughters of an established gentleman who will nonetheless be rendered into poverty by the misogynist laws of their time (their father’s estate must go to his only male heir—a distant cousin).  The only solution is a desperate scramble to marry well, in a scenario that seems the prototype for every romantic comedy to come (not to mention Downton Abbey).

And comedy there is, especially in the character roles, where those familiar faces excel.  Hugh Kennedy brings just the right hysterical joy to Mr Bingley, Anna Sundberg is pitch-perfect bitchy as his sister (hard on the Bennets, fun for us), Peter Thomson does a masterclass in timing as Mr Bennet, and Suzanne Warmanen explodes as his Missus (caveat:  her 3-D performance will definitely not be to all tastes—I loved it).  Kris Nelson is a hilariously unappealing Mr Collins (that distant cousin, eager to cement the unfair financial arrangement with an equally unfair marriage) and Sally Wingert impressively schizophrenic as both a doting Aunt and an imperious Aristocrat.

And what of Vincent Kartheiser, Madmen’s Pete Campbell, in his celebrated return to the stage?  When I first read about the casting choice, I thought it ideal.  Darcy is basically a faux Pete Campbell, a man who’s beastly brooding is slowly peeled away to reveal the Prince hiding beneath.  Oddly, it was Mr Kartheiser’s Prince I found most charming—the brooding beast was nowhere to be seen, which leeched some of the drama out of his transformation in Act Two.

Speaking of drama:  since I am, by trade, a playwright, it’s hard to avoid the elephant on the stage:  “Pride and Prejudice” is a lavish and spectacular production of what is, basically—how shall I put this—a book.  Not that theatre should ignore great literature (though arguably, there are so many plays, classic, contemporary and new—it’s not as if we’re starving for material), but there’s an alchemy to adaptation, and I’m not sure the collaborators found the formula.  This begins to take its toll even in the first act, but by the second a lot of the frothiness has been drained from the proceedings.  Whether this is an error in staging or writing is hard to pin down—suffice to say things get a little prosaic.  Most especially in the climax of the twin love stories and the threading of those love stories throughout the hectic costumed swirl.  The comedy is lovely (thanks again to our local rep company), but the romance sometimes falls short.

A mixed bag of treats, beautifully produced.  And while the Jane Austen fan I sat with had similar reservations afterwards, she was squealing with delight from the first galloping entrance of those five Bennet sisters to the joyful curtain two and a half hours later.