Eugene O'Neill's, Ah, Wilderness!, set in New London, Connecticut is a nostalgic light comedy about coming of age in 1906. It is a delightful illusory rollick down memory lane, where Mr. O'Neill, best known for his dark and cynical journeys into the dysfunctional abyss, draws more on fantasy than fact. In Ah, Wilderness!, the fictionalized Miller family is, without a doubt, O'Neill's most wholesome clan, only lightly peppered with dysfunctionality.

Sam Trammell is electric as the middle son, Richard, who wields poetry like an expert swordsman; often times to defiantly slice his opponents with borrowed witty writ and occasionally to knight those in his favor. Verse is the implement of war for the young Richard, a boy of progressive thinking, wearing the oversized clothing and bearing the mind of a man twice his age. He is the classic defiant teen of yesteryear and yet his is a poignant reminder of present times. While the teen of today would brandish a firearm, Richard, an angry literary vigilante, protects himself with words, though one wonders if the assailant has a full grasp on the scholarly sword he brandishes. To his benignly drunken Uncle Sid, acted wonderfully by Leo Burmester, Richard wildly gesticulating spouts, "Drink! For you know not whence you come nor why. Drink! For you know not why you go nor where!"

During a Fourth of July weekend, Richard is caught sending love letters infused with quotations by Shaw, Wilde, and Ibsen, among others, by the father of his girlfriend. That flings him into a whirlwind of expectations by a parental triad. When the irascible Mr. McComber played by James Murtaugh steps onto the Miller's porch and begins berating Richard's father, Nat (Craig T. Nelson), the winds pick up and the storm begins. Mr. McComber wishes to protect his daughter from the onslaught of Richard's Socialist ideals and romantic posturings. Mr. Miller, on the other hand, is struggling to understand his son, while exerting the social mores of his time. Then there's Debra Monk, playing Richard's typically overprotective mother, with zero direction on how to safeguard her son, but, loaded with an abundance of motherly sheltering cliches.

O'Neill's canon is filled with but one comic drama, Ah, Wilderness!, and it's no surprise that a playwright, best known for his brooding genius, fires comedy more cerebral than boisterously funny. When literary references are shot forth you laugh more because you get it, rather than it being side- splitting, knee-slapping hilarity. While the comedy in Ah, Wilderness! is mostly high-brow, O'Neill reaches low as well by creating the typical goofball drunk that swaggers and squelches drivel like Otis from The Andy Griffith Show.

Craig T. Nelson gives an affable performance, both virile and tender. Deborah Monk is wonderfully cast as the mother and her timing is perfection. While the entire cast is stellar the major standout is the fresh faced angst-ridden Sam Trammell. His performance carries the strength and brilliance of a lightning bolt. Like a bull in a china cabinet, he propels his body erratically flinging his every limb and spewing each line with complete reckless abandon.

O'Neill's comedy is like a tasty bowl of Lucky Charms; sprinkled with a yellow diamond cast and filled to the brim by the milk of Daniel Sullivan's direction with sweet sentimentality sans emotional saccharine, Ah, Wilderness is magically delicious!

Dodging baby carriages and old folks we strolled up Columbus Avenue in search of some eats. It was really a nice night for a walk since the temperature was hovering between the low forties and high fifties. My God, we were "starvin' to death for some eggs." That's a reference to John Waters' camp classic Pink Flamingos, where Eddie the Egg Lady sits in a playpen screaming for those ovum treats. It doesn't mean, I'm necessary hungry for eggs, then again it often does because I'm big on eggs. Anyway, I say it all the time so welcome to my vernacular.

As I was saying, we were starvin' to death for some eggs and finally found a little Italian eatery in the mid Sixties called Violino. Not the most elegant of restaurants, I must tell you. Get this, single red rose smothered in baby's breath in a cheap milk-glass vase at each table. Ugh, such back stairs gentility. The first thing I did was to pluck out the baby's breath and throw it under the table. Ah, much better. We opted for the prix fixe for 22 bucks. Our first course was about six pieces of horribly chewy fried calamari accompanied by a huge gravy boat filled with watery tomato sauce. Second course was an unctuous salad so pitiful that I had to laugh. Now, the penne pasta (which was actually rigatoni) in vodka sauce was pretty tasty but by that time we were just ready to leave.

For a night cap we hopped a cab for The King Cole Bar in the St. Regis Hotel off Fifth Avenue. The most wonderful mural spans the entire length of the mahogany bar there. It's a fantastic painting by the great Maxfield Parrish of King Cole (the merry ol' soul) with his pipers (three), guards, etc. Oh, I could stare at it all night. We started off with a margarita straight-up and struck up a conversation with the bartender, Gavin. We discussed everything from theatre to film to art. To the left of me a man was listening in so we drew him into our conversation. Seems he was some Hollywood producer but didn't want to say what he had done. Well, sure enough we weaseled it out of him and the only one I can remember was Fletch. No wonder he didn't want to share. We had such a great time there, but, get this, 12 bucks for a tiny margarita and 5 bucks for a pack of smokes! Can you stand it? The only way to justify it is that we can save on cab fare because it's only a few blocks from home.

In closing, don't ever eat at Violino on the Upper West Side. Even Chef Boyardee wouldn't eat there. The King Cole Bar (located in the St. Regis Hotel on 55th between Madison and Fifth Avenues) is a beautiful place for a cocktail, but, get drunk somewhere else and head over for a single night cap. And if you want to see a brilliantly cozy play with fantastic performances then go see Ah, Wilderness!

Join me next week when I'll review the much anticipated revival, of Cabaret. Cheers!

See you Thursday...

TinasNYC@aol.com

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