Albee's "Virginia Woolf' revived on Broadway

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Edward Albee's 1962 drama of domestic warfare, is considered one of the great American plays of the last century. George and Martha, the academic couple locked in a brutal battle unto death, are as familiar a cultural fixture as their presidential namesakes.

Their reappearance over the years has been a cause for celebration as well as celebrity, in high-profile productions starring (most recently) Kathleen Turner and Bill Irwin on Broadway in 2005, and before that Diana Rigg and David Suchet on London's West End in 1991. Then there was the 1966 Mike Nichols film, starring the immortal duo of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton (another embattled couple, on-screen and off)— a permanent testament to this classic's enduring power.

The surprise"“ and the epiphany"“ of its current Broadway revival, however, lies in its refusal to rely on star power. Rather, the star of this show is the play itself, brought to blistering new life by a virtuosic ensemble of actors from Chicago's Steppenwolf Theatre Company, where the production originated.

Albee's acolyte

The Broadway producers have imported that production intact, and the quartet of Chicago actors perform under the skilled direction of Pam McKinnon, a director whose familiarity with Albee's other plays brings an authority and assurance to this one. McKinnon, who describes herself as an Albee "acolyte," has directed many of his plays— including At Home At the Zoo, Occupant, A Delicate Balance, The Goat and The Play About The Baby— with the approval of the exacting playwright himself.

McKinnon's familiarity with Albee's treacherous terrain is evident in this powerful, pulsating production. She guides her ensemble of actors— Tracy Letts, Amy Morton, Madison Dirks and Carrie Coon— through three of the most harrowing hours I've ever seen on stage, dramatizing a domestic bloodletting siege that takes no prisoners.

George and Martha are a middle-aged couple living on the campus of a northeastern college (something like Trinity in Hartford, which Albee himself attended briefly). George, an associate professor of history, hasn't achieved the level of success that the ambitious Martha, daughter of the college president, had imagined for him.

Blood sport

George also lacked the nerve to stand up to that powerful father-in-law and publish his novel, which his father-in-law had banned. Martha, locked in a punishing nightly ritual that repeats itself throughout their "vile, crushing marriage," as she calls it, refuses to let George forget his failures.

On this particular night— which lasts from 2 p.m. until dawn (according to the unities of time, place and action that Greek tragedy requires)— Martha and George have invited a younger academic couple, Nick and Honey, to their home for a late night libation and participation in their humiliating blood sport. As they play their predatory games"“ including "hump the hostess," "get the guests" and "bringing up baby""“ devastating secrets emerge about both couples that change their lives forever.

What's revelatory about this production, thanks to the strength of the ensemble, is that Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf is no longer "Martha's play," as it's been perceived in the past. As conceived in the past by Uta Hagen (the legendary American actress who originated the role), as well as her successors Elizabeth Taylor, Diana Rigg and Kathleen Turner, Martha was a vengeful Fury whose thirst for blood is unquenchable. As such, the past Marthas have dominated their productions very much as Medea or Hedda Gabler have overpowered theirs. But Amy Norton's unexpectedly muted Martha allows the true colors of her husband, George, to emerge.

Lamb becomes a wolf

George, the defeated associate professor who never achieves his potential, has been traditionally played as an emasculated foil to his Fury wife, whose only weapon has been the final act of exposing the truth about their tragic marriage. But as played by Tracy Letts— the Chicago playwright whose powerful August Osage County won the Pulitzer Prize in 2008—George is far more complex.

Hands thrust deep into his baggy Ivy League sweater pockets, he stalks the stage like a wolf who has finally shed his sheep's clothing and comes out raging against the impotence of his life. And yet, when the bloodletting subsides in the play's final moments, he makes an unexpected gesture to the wife whose illusions he has destroyed"“ one that's aching and exquisite in its tenderness and compassion.

Last spring on Broadway, another great American play"“ Arthur Miller's Death of A Salesman"“ relied on star voltage (actor Philip Seymour Hoffman, director Mike Nichols) and original set designs to create a reverential remounting that was as faithful to the original as possible. The result was a production that was more commemorative than revitalizing.

In contrast, McKinnon, her cast and her producers have taken a fresh and courageous approach to a classic, discerning new insights in a play that now feels as if it were written yesterday.

"George and Martha, sad, sad, sad," goes the mantra of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf's heartbreaking portrayal of a marriage. Not so in this unforgettable production.