‘The Children’s Hour’ @ Mainstage Irving-Las Colinas (Dupree Theatre)

Promo photos by Mike Morgan Photography; show photos by Kris Ikejiri

—Jan Farrington

A fellow I know (we often cross paths at the same theater performances) gave me the line: “Lillian Hellman doesn’t get enough credit.” And it’s true that Miz Lillian too often is left off the lists of Great American Playwrights of the mid-century, though Eugene and Tennessee and Thornton almost always make the cut.

But her work stands up, and then some. Yes, she wrote about the world she knew, mostly—folks of the upper echelons: well off, educated, clever. Not for her the rough-edged, kitchen sink, working class dramas the critics of the mid-century so loved. But real truths about life? She finds as many in her posh environs as the others do in their shacks and tenements and falling-apart country places. (The Little Foxes, if you’re looking, is her masterpiece.)

Mainstage Irving-Las Colinas’ fine and ultimately moving production of Hellman’s The Children’s Hour—by any standard, a truly gutsy play for 1934—will surprise you, I think, in how deeply you get involved in the troubles and trials of two schoolteachers, two older ladies, and one troubled, and troubling, young girl.

In some ways, it’s the story of a hot-button situation—two seemingly upright young women (school friends who now run a boarding school in the New England countryside) accused by a student of “unnatural” behavior with one another. In other ways, it’s a story about secrets, self-understanding, malicious mischief, and lies—some that the characters know are lies, and others they make up, and then start to believe as soon as the words are spoken.

The swiftness with which the original lie takes hold—parents believe the rumor and take action within hours—reminded me of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, another (and later) play about women accused by children. And even if justice eventually catches up, the destruction lingers on. Lives are changed, and some destroyed. Words matter.

A round of applause for director Lindsey Humphries, then—and to the controlled, period-perfect performances by Katie Macune and Devon Rose as teachers Karen Wright and Martha Dobie, whose ordered world is turned to chaos by the statements of an angry, difficult student who runs away to her grandmother’s house. Millicent Manning is terrific in the part of young Mary Tilford, in which she must progress from a temperamental child to a unfocused but frightening force for evil. The role would be a challenge for an actress of twice Manning’s age.

Martha Dobie’s cousin Joseph, a young local doctor (John Marshall is steadfast and engaging) is Karen Wright’s fiance, but they haven’t yet been able to marry. Jane Talbert is garrulous and easily upset as Martha’s actress aunt Lily (she teaches there part-time). It’s Lily’s loudly stated advice to Martha that’s overheard by students. And Nancy Lamb, as Mary Tilford’s wealthy and influential aunt Amelia, moves with force and dignity along the emotional spectrum, from caring to infuriated to apologetic and confused. Aunt Amelia’s housekeeper Agatha (Isabelle Culpepper) is subtle in showing how much she’s “on to” Mary’s manipulations.

The girls and teens who play the school’s students do very well (mostly in the first of the show’s three acts) in portraying their childish thinking about adult situations, badly paired by sudden awareness of the real power (and real harm) they can do in their world of teachers, parents, and schoolmates they categorize as friends, rivals, frenemies, and victims. (Makes you want to do high school all over again, doesn’t it? Not.) Kira Trees stands out as the timid Rosalie, easy pickings for Mary’s schemes.

This is a well-contructed, well-paced play of the old school: three 40-minute acts with brief intermissions—and worth your time. Hellman’s compelling and energetic way with conversations and quarrels keeps us wide awake, and the rise of tension toward the end of the story still shocks—though perhaps not as forcefully as in the 1930s, when the London premiere of The Children’s Hour had to be performed in a private home.

WHEN: September 20-October 5, 2024
WHERE: Dupree Theatre (Irving Arts Center), 3333 N. MacArthur Blvd., Irving TX
WEB: mainstageirving.com