
Emma Geer and Jeremy Beck in HINDLE WAKES by
Stanley Houghton, Directed by Gus Kaikkonen. Photos by Todd Cerveri
By Marc Miller
Hindle Wakes, from 1912, is quite well known on the other side of the
pond—there are several British film versions, silent and talkie, and it’s been
adapted for TV at least four times. Over here, it hasn’t been so lucky: A
Broadway production not long after the London original ran a month, and one in Chicago the following year did somewhat better. But Stanley Houghton’s comedy-drama—two
acts, two sets, five scenes, cast of nine—is ideally proportioned for the Mint
Theater Company, which is dedicated to resurrecting plays you’ve probably never
heard of. And what a lovely job they’ve done with this one.
Stanley Who? Houghton (1881-1913), raised in Manchester, wrote over a
dozen plays and one unfinished novel in his brief existence, of which Hindle
Wakes is by far the best remembered. His overriding concern, in play
after play, was sexual inequality. We’d call him a feminist today. The women
outnumber the men in Hindle Wakes, and ultimately outmaneuver them.
They’re a varied lot, though, with conflicting opinions on a woman’s proper
place.

Jill Tanner, Ken Marks and Sandra Shipley
Most conventional in her views on gender roles is probably Mrs.
Hawthorn (Sandra Shipley), married to cotton mill worker Chris (Ken Marks) and
the mother of Fanny (Rebecca Noelle Brinkley), also a cotton mill worker. We’re
in Lancashire, and there’s not much else in the way of industry. The work is
steady but unrewarding, and the Hawthorns are probably doomed to an eternity in
the lower middle class. Hindle’s the town, and Wakes is Wakes Week, a summer
holiday. While a thunderstorm rages (Jane Shaw’s sound design is evocative,
though she might have backed up the thunder with some rain noise), the parents
await Fanny’s return from Blackpool, a seaside resort roughly analogous to Coney Island. There is to be a confrontation. For Chris and the Mrs. have discovered that
Fanny spent the weekend with—horrors!—a man.

Jill
Tanner and Jonathan Hogan
It’s difficult to convey to modern sensibilities what a big deal
this would have been a century ago. The lad, Alan Jeffcote (Brian Reddy), is
the son of the mill owner, Nathaniel (Jonathan Hogan), who tries to be fair to
everyone and in this situation just can’t, and Mrs. Jeffcote (Jill Tanner;
interesting how Houghton doesn’t bless the mothers with first names), who’s
obsessed with doing the socially Right Thing. And Alan already is engaged to
the wealthy, well-bred Beatrice Farrar (Emma Geer), whose knighted father
(Brian Reddy) is a jovial reprobate who’s enjoyed infidelities of his own. But
he’s a privileged community fixture, and a man, so he can get away with it. Not
so for Fanny, who’s immediately branded a hussy and assumed to have lured Alan
into carnal sin, because, you know, these mill girls.

Ken Marks and Rebecca Noelle Brinkley i
Will she and Alan be forced into a marriage he clearly doesn’t want,
and we’re not sure she does? “Plenty of girls have made good matches that way,”
her father reasons. He’s off to talk with Nathaniel, his employer and a
childhood buddy who offered him an interest in the mill that he turned down
decades ago; hence class has inexorably separated them ever since. The
Hawthorns and Jeffcotes and Farrars negotiate the particulars, and here’s where
Houghton hones in on how each character’s attitudes about sex and
responsibility have been shaped by his or her social standing, and what the
consequences are. No spoilers, but let’s just say that the resolution isn’t
determined by the character you’d figure on, and seeing this unexpected
protagonist engineer the outcome is hugely satisfying.
It’s talky, as 1912 plays generally are, with needless discussion
of train schedules and local gossip and characters’ past histories, and a
couple of protracted variations on “You’re lying,” “No I’m not,” “Yes you are,”
“No I’m not,” “Yes you are.” An inordinate amount of time is also spent lighting
(real) gas lamps (Charles Morgan did the workmanlike sets). And the local
patois, riddled with pseudo-Biblical phraseology—“Hasn’t thou got a tongue in
thy head?”—takes getting used to. But the talk, while leisurely, is compelling,
especially in its surprising currency. Thees and thous notwithstanding, the
sexual double standard persists, and watching Alan, Fanny, and Beatrice try to
wriggle out of the social expectations they’re weighted down with doesn’t feel
106 years old at all.
Gus Kaikkonen directs the fine ensemble naturalistically, with the
confrontations kept small and real. Hogan’s agonizing Nathaniel and Shipley’s
judgmental Mrs. Hawthorn are standouts, but there’s not a weak link, and the
comedy, when it’s there, springs from the characters’ uncomfortable existences
within established norms. With Hindle Wakes, the Mint has a
winner.
Off-Broadway
play
Playing at
the Clurman Theater, 410 W. 42nd St., through Feb. 17
Telecharge.com;
212-239-6200