The Mint Theater specializes in unearthing obscure material, but a year ago it dug particularly deep: It presented an arcane 1930s drama, originally written for radio by an Irishwoman largely unknown in the US.
Teresa Deevy’s subtle, affecting “Wife to James Whelan” turned out to be a genuine discovery, and its success helped raise the anticipation level for the second installment in the Mint’s projected Deevy trilogy.
Unfortunately, “Temporal Powers” lacks the forceful narrative momentum of “Wife,” and Jonathan Bank’s overly subdued production doesn’t pick up the slack.
Both shows center on ambition and personal responsibility, and on what people can or are willing to do to escape their circumstances.
Those of Michael and Min Donovan (Aidan Redmond and Rosie Benton) are particularly dire. The year is 1927, and after being evicted from their house, the destitute couple find refuge in a local ruin — a literal illustration of a country in shambles.
“Some are rich, and some poor, and it must be the poverty was meant for us,” Michael says. His resigned acceptance fills Min with anger. When he finds a stash of hidden money, deciding what to do with it drives them further apart.
Michael believes the loot — stolen from the post office — isn’t up for his keeping and wants to consult with the local priest. Min sees it as a way out of poverty, and is frustrated by his stubbornness.
Friends and family come and go, but it’s the conflict between Michael and Min’s diverging world- views that sustains the story.
Deevy shows hardship as making people not only desperate, but bitter and mean. This is no noir thriller, so Min isn’t out merely to appropriate stolen dough. Instead, she rails against the forces, both temporal and spiritual, that keep the likes of her down.
“They’d tell you the Mother of God had beauty,” Min says of the Church, “but if you’d wish yourself nice, that would be wrong!”
The actors are all fine, but tend to play things a little too close to the vest. Benton — superb as a plucky but ultimately frustrated friend in “Wife” — spends most of the show looking somber, as if a big dark cloud was permanently parked over her head. Like Redmond, she gives a bravely unsplashy performance. Sometimes, though, you just want to feel a bit more of the fire in those bellies.
elisabeth.vincentelli@nypost.com