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Transatlantic equivalences of a different sort are the point-counterpoint of Richard Nelson's bracing New England, which has just completed a successful run at the Royal Shakespeare Company's Barbican Pit. Nelson, a New York-based American, portrays a ferociously articulate family of Britons who live in various parts of the U.S. Assembled in a Connecticut farmhouse in the aftermath of their father's suicide, they ostentatiously deplore the English penchant for putting down America, then in the next breath rail at their big, dumb, PC-riddled adopted homeland.
But these people are as dislocated morally as they are geographically ("How did we get to here?" are among the father's last words). Grief is put on hold as they squabble over the Chinese takeout, gang up on a sibling's spouse and expertly rip the scabs of old family wounds. The RSC's production impeccably fulfilled Chekhov's famous dictum that events onstage should be "just as complex and yet just as simple as they are in life. For instance, people are having a meal, just having a meal, but at the same time their happiness is being created, or their lives are being smashed up."
New England may be presented in New York next season--American goods imported from Britain--and it deserves to be. Meanwhile, during the remainder of this Broadway season, things may be looking up slightly for homegrown products. From now until the May 3 cutoff for Tony nominations, at least six new plays are planned, including yet another by McNally. Still, opening-night mortality rates being what they are, theater pros know better than to predict a resurgence of plays on Broadway. "Two or three," says Jujamcyn Theaters president Rocco Landesman, "would be an avalanche."
--With reporting by Stacey Perman/New York