A Delicate Balance

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

Astonishing! Brilliant beyond magnificent to the point of exhaustion. I cannot fathom anyone, anywhere, at any time on this planet or any other, for that matter, producing a more perceptive, direct, production of Edward Albee’s A Delicate Balance than what currently plays at the Germinal Stage Denver.

Deborah Persoff as Claire and Ed Baierlein as Tobias in Germinal Stage Denver’s production of A Delicate Balance.

A delicate balance exists within relationships. A delicate balance between husbands and wives, parents and children, friends and friends exercises emotions, feelings, constraint and restraint. How far does one go? Boundaries? Are there any? Should there be any? Who sets the Boundaries? Albee explores these questions in determined detail through his 1966 Pulitzer Prize-winning play A Delicate Balance.

Directed and designed by Ed Baierlein, the six actors ensure their characters wear their hearts on their sleeves, although these characters are far more prone to sit on their honest feelings than wear them openly. That is their problem. In sitting on them, what they do is squeeze out the venom surrounding their frustrations by biting, cutting, jabbing, taunting each other.

In an upscale living room, Agnes (Erica Sarzin-Borrillo) muses with an off-centered smile she is convinced she is going mad. Borillo defines the state of madness with an air of serene elegance. She’s not going mad, and she knows it. Her husband, Tobias (Baierlein) occupied over which drink to have next, half-heartedly assures her “she is the most sane woman” he knows, adding, “we will all go mad before you.” Admitting she can’t go mad, she inserts how necessary it is for her to take care of him. Her demeanor says she lives in a state of peace, but finds daunting fun to continue talking about it.

“Theoretical healthy fear” is how Agnes first refers to her thoughtful madness. Clutching at words, she corrects her definition, calling it a “healthy speculation.” Talking to each other they talk around each other. Borrillo exudes elegant disparity with Agnes. Baierlein gives Tobias undone resignation. In the middle of controversy, Baierlein gleans a far away look for Tobias, always wondering when and what to drink in an almost non-existent expression balancing on an active wave length pushing passivity out the door.

Concerned about her sister Claire, Agnes probes with Tobias, both going nowhere in a hurry. Yes, Claire, (Deborah Persoff) sprawled in their home, sprawled across the sofa or whatever chair she happens to be sitting in, sprawled with a drink in her hand, sprawled with the want of a drink in her hand, piecing commentary into every conversation as a Court Jester plays with a King. Claire contradicts Agnes’ elegance with her sprawl and drink. She’s not an alcoholic she insists, just a drunk. Constantly nibbling at each other with taunting verbal sparring, they feed each other while Tobias continues to ponder what to drink next.

Into the ruckus barges good friends Harry, (Michael Leopard) and Edna (Margaret Amateis Casart). They were just in the neighborhood. No one buys that explanation. Their eager beaver facelift disappears when Edna dissolves into tears. They were home, in bed, and terror struck. They didn’t come just to visit. They came to stay because that is what friends are for.

In the midst of the upside down ramifications, Julia comes home. Julia (Katharyn Grant), Agnes’ and Tobias’ daughter. Now separated from her fourth marriage, Julia comes unglued because Harry and Edna are in her room. They have no right. Harry and Edna claim she has no right. She should be home with her husband. She’s 36 years old and she has no right to her once upon a time room. Agnes snipes. Tobias considers what to drink next, and Claire sprawls with drink and loose words.

What makes this production even more tremendous is seeing it during a preview, where actors are allowed last minute slips and corrections, and there were a few. What separates the wheat from the chaff with actors is slipping over a line, knowing the character so well the character automatically moves on their own cover-up. Only the most discerning scrutiny would have detected any line stumbling, and it was so well handled, it couldn’t really be categorized as stumbling in any way shape or form.

Wannabe and beginning actors, producers, and directors should make immediate reservations for two shows. One to experience the mind numbing ambiance of this incredible play, and second to study every move, eye twitch, subtle expression, every stage direction, turning these actors into an Albee character with chemistry permeating every corner of the theatre.

With piercing eyes on all sides of his head, Albee possesses laser beamed talented ability to look deep into, dissect, and evaluate the American society. Couple that with Baierlein’s masterful ability to climb inside a script and see through the eyes of the playwright, along with the awesome cast of Borrillo, Persoff, Casart, Leopard, Grant, and Baierlein, and you not only have a night at the theatre, you have a course in psychology, and American history feeding mind boggling questions and commentary to gnaw on for a very long time.

Some of the audience laughter is provoked from honest funny. Some of it provoked because the runaway characters sprawl elegant throwaway comments that just about every human being has wanted to say but dares not. The play explores loss on a variety of different levels: loss of opportunity, loss of a child, loss of a place, rightful or otherwise, loss of success, loss of expressing what is really thought and felt, loss of the ability to make decisions. The cast does a magnificent job of revealing the inside and outside of each character scattered with hopes and dreams gone awry, emotions suppressed, and thoughts muzzled.

This production of A Delicate Balance should be an absolute must see no matter what the schedule says. Everything and everyone works together hand in glove. It is what theatre is all about: mesmerizing, exhausting, provocative, exhilarating and Awesome with a capitol A.