Few community theaters are bold enough to tackle Edward Albee's masterpiece, "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" But then, the Costa Mesa Playhouse has been pushing the artistic envelope for quite a while, and the time is right for a clash of the theatrical titans.
The production of "Virginia Woolf" now on the Costa Mesa stage is a high watermark for the theater, and local theater in general.
Albee's searing long night's journey into the next day crackles with savage wit and aching character dissection under the meticulous direction of Michael Dale Brown.
Brown has chosen four exceptional actors as his intimate ensemble — an older couple with deep emotional scars from years of slashing at one another and a younger pair with their own guarded secrets who join the "fun and games" of creative humiliation.
The most accomplished of these is Tim Thorn as George, the creatively stagnant history professor at a small college who's constantly goaded by his slatternly wife, the daughter of the college's president.
Thorn masterfully presides over the late-night bloodletting festivities with a thorough grasp of Albee's pungent dialogue and a vicious killer instinct in his delivery. The multitasker Thorn also co-designed (with Brown) and built the handsome setting.
As Martha, the loud and boozy wife, Ricci Dedola initially is more show than substance, appearing somewhat artificial in her tipsiness. But as the night wears on, Dedola attains a firm grasp of her character and delivers a devastating climactic scene that stuns the audience into awe-struck silence.
Andrew Zimmer as Nick, the young biology professor and "wave of the future" in George's eyes, delivers a studied, calculating performance, verbally pouncing only when necessary. His farcical seduction attempt with Martha is particularly well presented.
In such company, the role of Nick's mousy wife, Honey, ordinarily might be overshadowed. Not so in this production, however, as Carrie Snider turns in a gorgeously nuanced rendition of a character who, according to Albee, "toots brandy immodestly and spends most of her time in the upchuck." When she's on stage, Snider effectively steals the spotlight from the master gladiators with her freewheeling, giggling characterization.
Brown has performed some minor surgery on the play, particularly at the close of the second act when George's intentions usually are voiced but are kept secretive in this production, ostensibly to deliver a more devastating blow to the audience in the climax (there may be a few people who, after nearly 50 years, are unaware of the upshot).
Yes, it's been almost a half-century since the 1962 Broadway production, and "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" remains in the pantheon of great American plays. It's seldom produced these days and rarely with such superlative artistic merit.