Reed Birney and Elizabeth Marvel skillfully balance the shifts from comedy to drama in “Picnic.” (Joan Marus)
Ellen Burstyn (in background) deftly underplays her character, but Maggie Grace and Sebastian Stan lack chemistry. (
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In William Inge’s bittersweet 1953 hit “Picnic,” a hunky charmer appears out of nowhere to unsettle the women of a small Kansas town — especially the local beauty, aimless and bored with her boyfriend. The actors playing The Drifter and The Ingenue need to deliver in the physical department, and in this new Roundabout revival, they certainly do.
Maggie Grace (“The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn,” “Taken”) has a coltish, leggy elegance as Madge Owens. Sebastian Stan (“Captain America”), the dreamy outsider Hal Carter, isn’t shy about showing off his chiselled torso, which is good because Hal’s keeps losing his shirt or having it torn off him.
Too bad they share youth and good looks, but no sizzle — there’s more sexual chemistry among the cast of “Old Jews Telling Jokes.”
Luckily, director Sam Gold (“Seminar”) also hired the experienced Ellen Burstyn, Mare Winningham, Reed Birney and Elizabeth Marvel, who expertly handle the shifts from comedy to drama, and back again.
The action of “Picnic,” such as it is, takes place over 24 summer hours in a cozy backyard. (Andrew Lieberman’s realistic set is so homey, you wish you could hang out in it.)
When Hal pops up out of nowhere, Helen Potts (Burstyn) puts him to work clearing trash, and mischievously ogles his sweaty, glistening pecs as Stan puts himself through what looks like a heartland-themed routine from “Magic Mike.”
Equally enthralled by Hal’s free spirit — and bod — is Madge, who suddenly loses interest in her wealthy milquetoast of a beau (Ben Rappaport).
Not much happens in Inge’s tranquil Midwestern world, or at least not much happens by way of plot. We don’t even see the title’s event, which takes place offstage, and these folks aren’t prone to chatty introspection. Inge just makes us understand them in an intimate, deceptively simple way.
In the right hands, though, his seemingly innocuous lines become revealing, as when Birney’s graying salesman, Howard Bevans, notes of the nubile Madge, “When the good Lord made a girl as pretty as she is, He did it for a reason, and it’s about time she found out what that reason is.” His voice has an edge of pervy frustration, and when Howard dances with Madge a little later, it feels creepy.
It’s a pleasure to watch the supposedly supporting cast take ownership of these characters. Winningham has a lovely, plain warmth as the protective mother of Madge and her bookish kid sister, Millie (Madeleine Martin); Burstyn nicely underplays Mrs. Potts’ roving eyes.
But it’s Marvel (“Other Desert Cities”) who waltzes off with the show as Rosemary Sydney, who’s long been dating Howard.
Making the most of her throaty low register, Marvel channels Rosalind Russell as the rowdy, cigarette-puffing “old maid schoolteacher.”
But then Rosemary crumbles, literally falling down on her knees, begging Howard to marry her. It’s the show’s most painful moment, and the most mesmerizing.
Spray washboard abs with oil all you want — that’s what theater is all about.