'The Graduate' barely earns a passing grade

Though inventive, Long Beach Playhouse production is hampered by Terry Johnson’s 2000 stage adaptation.

'The Graduate' barely earns a passing grade

Back home in Hollywood after having graduated at an east-coast Ivy League school, Benjamin Braddock (Eric Pierce) is congratulated by family friend Mr. Robinson (Tom Juarez), with Mrs. and Mr. Braddock (Martha Duncan, Skip Blas) hovering nearby.


'The Graduate'

When: Through March 20. 8 p.m. Fridays & Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays

Where: Mainstage Theatre, Long Beach Playhouse, 5021 E. Anaheim Blvd., Long Beach

How much: $24 (seniors $21 and students/children $14)

Length: 1 hour, 50 minutes

Suitability: Adult language and content, brief nudity

Call: 562-494-1014

Online: lbplayhouse.org

With his 1963 novel "The Graduate," Charles Webb defined the searching quality of an entire generation that came of age during the '60s.

Mike Nichols' mega-hit 1967 film version reached an even wider audience, the Benjamin Braddock character personifying uncertainty, insecurity and self-loathing before latching onto a shaky attempt at happiness.

Terry Johnson's 2000 stage adaptation of both sources makes some curious choices. True, he pulls much of what's best from Buck Henry and Calder Willingham's stingingly satirical movie version. How much of Webb's work is used? Close to zero.

Johnson inexplicably invents all-new scenes that not only don't advance the story or characters, but detract from them. A wonderful-looking and -sounding but otherwise average production of the script at Long Beach Playhouse only underscores the script's flaws.

This version opens things in Ben's bedroom as Mr. Braddock (Skip Blas) tries to get Ben (Eric Pierce) to join the party in his honor by the pool while wearing his new scuba-diving suit, a graduation gift from his parents.

Ben feels awkward and won't budge, but as he strips off the suit, Mrs. Robinson (Lori Kelley) pays Ben a call, then traps him in his bedroom closet, where she undresses and offers herself up to him.

Hard not to think about these iconic scenes as staged in the film, but director Carl DaSilva makes the most of the scene, using a translucent screen and backlighting for the crucial would-be seduction.

Unlike Dustin Hoffman's characterization, Pierce's Ben is no naïve, preoccupied clod – nor is Kelley's Mrs. Robinson the cool-headed, predatory vamp that Anne Bancroft so skillfully created.

Pierce and Kelley admirably work to avoid imitation and make the roles their own. Pierce offers Ben's impatience, embarrassment, self-consciousness, ambivalence and hatred of materialism along with an articulate, nearly glib manner. Kelley's Mrs. Robinson is wonderfully chic and effeminate, and forthright and matter-of-fact in every remark and gesture.

Both actors can be credited with humanizing their characters. Trouble is, with these two, even at the risk of caricature, pushing their personas to extremes is far more effective. We want a morose, despairing Ben wallowing in hopelessness and a coldly calculating Mrs. R. At the least, Pierce needs less whininess, more gravitas and Kelley more severity.

Some of the film's most delicious moments are nicely served up here. Benjamin kisses Mrs. Robinson on the mouth just after she's taken a deep drag on a cigarette, forcing her to hold the smoke in for a prolonged period. Ben nervously gets a room at a classy Los Angeles hotel, terrified that the desk clerk will "suspect" him of having an affair.

Andrea Dennison Laufer's Elaine is both bubbly and repressed and, as her mother has warned Ben, "naïve, unworldly and sincere." Her chemistry with Pierce, while not much better than Pierce and Kelley, at least supports the emotional bond between Ben and Elaine.

Delivering the evening's most compelling performance is Tom Juarez, a standout as Mr. Robinson. In the opening scenes, he's affable, and glowing with so much pride that it's clear he feels like Benjamin is his own son. After discovering Ben has slept with his wife, he's beside himself, spitting venom with lines like "I think you're scum."

Blas' Mr. Braddock is both warmly sympathetic to Ben and a harsh disciplinarian. Martha Duncan's Mrs. Braddock is sweet and nurturing to both son and husband. Rob Ullett and Anna-Kate Mohler give yeoman-like work essaying a wide variety of supporting characters.

Between DaSilva's video design, DaSilva and Sean Gray's sound design, Donna Fritsche's costumes, Melissa Martin's hairstyles and Naomi Kasahara's scenic design, this is an attractive production that offers often poignant evocations of the eventful '60s.

The between-scene photos and videos provide a broad overlook of the era's polar emotions: optimism and uncertainty. The musical interludes feature recent covers of the numerous Simon & Garfunkel pieces used in the film, helping evoke the same moods without being purely imitative, as well as other hits of the period like "The Girl from Ipanema."

The versatile set features an expanse of blue water that runs across the top of the backstage wall, serving as the Braddocks' swimming pool while evoking Ben's soggy, watery outlook.

Johnson-invented scenes like Ben's running off to Northern California to work as a firefighter, and the Braddocks' hauling Ben to a shrink, fall flat and seem needless. And Johnson's text is less taut, less clever, less everything than that of Henry and Willingham.

Perhaps most badly missed is the sense of the distance that only bitter irony and satire can deliver, integral to the novel and film but here only hinted at.

Contact the writer: emarchesewriter@gmail.com

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