Greenberg's "Mother's Brief Affair' in California

California's South Coast Repertory has commissioned and produced seven world premieres by Richard Greenberg, including his most recent, Our Mother's Brief Affair. Several Philadelphia companies have staged Greenberg's Tony award-winning work, including the Arden (Three Days of Rain, 1999), Philadelphia Theatre Company (Take Me Out, 2005); and Theatre Horizon (The Violet Hour, 2006). To them and their colleagues, I make just one request: Please don't bring this play here.

Mom has Alzheimer's. Mom cheated on dad. Which of your mother's failings would you rather hear about? Caveat masochist: Richard Greenberg's underdeveloped Our Mother's Brief Affair subjects the audience to both. And then things get worse.

Not done on Long Island

The "our" of the title refers to fraternal twins, the obituary writer Seth (Arye Gross) and the librarian Abby (Marin Hinkle), who, miscast in South Coast Repertory's production, look ten years apart in age. Their mother Anna (Jenny O'Hara), now in the deathbed stages of Alzheimer's, blithely asks the pair, "Did I ever tell you about my affair?" Through imaginary conversations and flashbacks to 1973— a time when no one in her working-class Jewish neighborhood of Long Island did anything like this— she retells the encounter while the siblings chime in or embellish her tale.

Initially, Seth dismisses mom's confession as a medicated fantasy. Abby excuses it, on he ground that "Even mothers have sex." All three directly address the audience, and, in crisply timed speech patterns, the twins finish each other sentences. For some reason, all the action occurs at a park.

Familiar territory, with a twist

But halfway through the play, Greenberg shatters the affair's narrative with a sledgehammer: Mom's lover (Matthew Arkin) hides an exciting, secret identity implicated in the "most repulsive political event" of Mom's generation: the spy trials of Ethel and Julius Rosenberg in the early '50s. What's worse: Mom only indulged in the affair to elevate her esteem and— by pulling herself out of the mind-numbing complacency of her domestic life— secure her footnote in history. Imagine learning that mom once fooled around with Dick Cheney and you get the idea.

Suddenly, the humor—which continues unabated until the play's conclusion—takes on an unbearable tone. "Would you sleep with Hitler?" flows too easily from Seth's mouth.

Calling Dr. Phil

Though South Coast's production shifts too abruptly, and Greenberg develops his ideas poorly, I never doubted that Anna would continue to sleep with such a hated character. As any athlete with groupies knows, the perversions of psychology make her actions too believable.

Greenberg textures Anna's adultery by couching this intriguing weave of psychology and morality inside two themes of identity: the perilous nature of memory— central to the idea of a coherent self, and totally lacking in an Alzheimer's patient— and the desire to establish a permanent foothold in the annals of history. But as each revelation pushed the play toward a fuller explanation, Greenberg's exploration of one woman's desire for a hated figure destroyed the intrigue by transforming into a pop psychology lecture. What seemed fascinating at first began to nauseate.

Greenberg ends on a new-age, Oprahesque note of false sincerity: We can do horrible things as long as they enable us to forgive ourselves. If this is your idea of "life as an opportunity for self-discovery," I urge you to consult Dr. Phil. As for me— to borrow the title of one of Greenberg's more successful comedies— take me out. ïµ