Broadway’s answer to Masterpiece Theater has just arrived in the form of “The Winslow Boy,” Terence Rattigan’s 1946 drama.
The last Rattigan play by the Roundabout, “Man and Boy,” boasted Frank Langella in peak form, but nothing else matched his deliciously evil performance. This production, which originated at London’s Old Vic and was recast in New York, is on a more even keel — it’s less flashy but also more satisfying.
This suspenseful legal drama’s greatest coup is that it never sets foot in court. Everything takes place in the Winslow family’s drawing room in pre-WWI England, where retired banker Arthur Winslow (Roger Rees, barely recognizable as an ailing older man) leads a protracted battle to restore his youngest son’s honor.
After 14-year-old Ronnie (Spencer Davis Milford) is accused of stealing a money order at his naval academy, Arthur throws himself into a two-year campaign to clear his son’s name. Supporting him are his patient wife, Grace (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio), their feisty suffragette daughter, Catherine (Charlotte Parry), and their solicitor, Desmond Curry (Michael Cumpsty), who harbors an unrequited crush on Catherine.
But the key architect of the Winslow defense is a famously conservative barrister, Sir Robert Morton (Alessandro Nivola).
Catherine may hate Morton’s politics, but she’s impressed by his dedication to their cause. “No one party has a monopoly of concern for individual liberty,” he says. “On that issue, all parties are united.”
At nearly three hours, the play takes its time yet never flags. Director Lindsay Posner sets a slow but steady pace, smartly detailing how the case impacts the characters.
We see the decline of Arthur’s health, as well as the toll the court fight takes on his family and finances.
Even more gripping is Rattigan’s portrayal of a smart young woman constrained by her gender.
Catherine doesn’t have the career opportunities automatically afforded her brothers, Ronnie and the party-loving, underachieving Dickie (Zachary Booth). Even her romantic options are limited — the second half is heavy on the suppressed emotions.
“Fact one: You don’t love me, and never can,” the smitten solicitor says with touching resignation after proposing to Catherine. “Fact two: I love you, always have, and always will. That is the situation — and it is a situation which, after most careful consideration, I am fully prepared to accept.”
As anybody who’s ever seen a rom-com knows, the real spark is between Catherine and Morton, whose antagonism morphs into grudging admiration. Watching Parry and Nivola stiffly dance around each other’s feelings is melanchic and delightful.
Where love’s concerned, at least — unlike in a courtroom — there is no clear winner or loser.