NEW YORK -- The journey from off-Broadway to Broadway has been a bumpy one for "The Ride Down Mt. Morgan," Arthur Miller's tale of a duplicitous insurance executive and his bigamous life.
The production, which opened last Sunday at Broadway's Ambassador Theater, is broader and less satisfactory than the one done 18 months ago at the Public Theater.The star, Patrick Stewart, and several other cast members, most notably Frances Conroy, are the same. So is the director, David Esbjornson, and the design team. So what went wrong?
The play seems to have been rethought as a comedy, with Esbjornson pushing its more serious matters aside to stress easy entertainment. That's too bad because, if not top-drawer Miller, "Morgan" offers moments of spirited debate about a man who does what he wants to do -- and hang the consequences.
Much of that moral dilemma has been frittered away in a search for laughs, with Stewart leading the showy charge. The actor panders to the audience with a parade of winks, giggles, nods, vocal embellishments and other attention-getting antics that rob the drama of much of its credibility.
Stewart doesn't need to do that. He's physically robust, an imposing performer who commands attention just by standing on stage. The actor would seem to be perfect for the forceful Lyman Felt, a man who feels a continuous need to satisfy his considerable appetites.
An automobile accident on a snow-slicked road in upstate New York unravels Lyman's double life. The man ends up in a hospital where he is visited by Theo, his wife of 30 years, and daughter. In the waiting room, the two women meet a third, Leah, who also claims to be married to Lyman.
When confronted by his two wives, Lyman is unrepentant. Besides, he says he loves them both. That defiance permeates the entire play. He can't quite believe that what he has done is wrong.
"Morgan" swirls back and forth in time, with flashbacks as well as fantasy situations competing with and often confusing the straightforward story line.
Unlike Willy Loman, the hapless title character of Miller's classic "Death of a Salesman," Lyman has been a success all his life. He has let nothing stand in the way of his pursuit of happiness, no matter who it harms.
Lyman (even his name speaks of prevarication) justifies his actions by proclaiming that each of the wives has gotten benefits out of his unique living arrangements.
Conroy, her red hair swept back in a bun and wearing a luxurious fur coat, is the epitome of Presbyterian correctness as the proper first wife. She gives a beautiful performance, rich in details that Miller doesn't necessarily provide in his plot.
Katy Selverstone has a harder time of it as Leah, Lyman's younger, second helpmate. It's a trickier part, too, less sympathetic than Conroy's. Yet Selverstone does have several chances to shine, particularly in the scene when Lyman talks Leah out of an abortion and into marriage.
Shannon Burkett personifies petulance as the angry daughter, a one-note role. John C. Vennema as Lyman's loyal lawyer and Oni Faida Lampley as his no-nonsense hospital nurse deliver effective cameos, creating real people despite a minimum of time on stage.
In the end, though, what stands out here is the production's misguided dramatic sensibility, its settling for the easy way out, a decision that allows "The Ride Down Mt. Morgan" to remain an unfulfilled evening of theater.