Desire Under The Elms

Eugene O'Neill is arguably one of the greatest playwrights of the last century. Desire Under the Elms, with its realism, brushes with Greek tragedy and frank treatment of sexual matters, must have been electric stuff when it premiered in 1924. To a modern audience, however, it feels tame.

The story follows events surrounding the ownership of a New England farm in Connecticut in the 19th century. Ephraim Cabot, the head of the household, has left after the death of his second wife. His three sons, Simeon and Peter from his first marriage and Eben from his second, still work the farm.

News of the father's return with a new wife leaves the brothers' future in doubt as they fear their father will give their new stepmother ownership of the farm and land. The two oldest sons leave for California to secure their fortune. The youngest, however, remains behind to fight for control of the farm. The majority of the play centres on the power struggle and schemes over the farm between father, son and new wife, leading to tragic results.

The Citizen's production is competent, but the weak script drowns any attempt to rise above mediocrity. It is well staged by director Jeremy Raison, with nice touches such as the passing of hours indicated by moonlight. Jason Southgate's two-storey farmhouse set, Matilda Brown's music and lighting by Stuart Jenkins are all effective.

The performers all do their best with the material. The two older brothers, played by John P. Arnold and John Chancer, are both engaging characters but disappear completely after the first half hour. Ian Hogg, as patriarch Ephraim, and Robbie Towns, as third son Eben, are both solid but have little to do but threaten each other over the farm's ownership and undermine each other over Eben's dead mother and Ephraim's new wife. And the town folk who briefly appear in the second act are only given clichéd phrases and jokes.

But Rebecca McQuillan, as Ephraim's new wife Abbie, has the most difficult job. O'Neill's script hardly gives her a chance to be anything more than a two-dimensional money-grabber. McQuillan does her best to rise to the occasion, and yet every time she nearly manages to create a three-dimensional character the play has her commit another act that again reduces her to a hollow, selfish caricature.

This is a script that shows the potential of the writer, but therein lies the largest problem. Why create a production of a script that skirts great ideas that the writer was more successful in dramatising in later work? Why not return to the more established great plays of O'Neill, plays that still speak to a modern audience and do not rely on stereotypes and shock tactics that have lost their relevance?

For a play riddled with cliches, it seems only fair to end on one: Desire Under the Elms leaves much to be desired.