My earliest awareness of Peter Nichols notorious black comedy about the impact of caring for a severely brain-damaged daughter on her parents was in William Goldmans notorious but absolutely thrilling book about Broadway, "The Season". In this analysis of Broadway in generalas seen through the examples set by the 1967-68 seaonhe cited "A Day in the Death of Joe Egg" as something of once-in-a-lifetime grandeur.
I was in high school at the time I read Goldmans account, and the play was years closed, but I went to the library, read the play, and sure enough, it was a corker on the page. The daughter, for all intents and purposes a vegetable at age ten, seems almost utterly unaware of her surroundings. The constancy of her is a drain on her devoted mom and dad, and on the quality of intimacy they share. And the parents, Brian and Sheila, deal with the stress through dark humor. They break the fourth wall, and tell the audience about the saga of birthing and raising poor Josephine through comic sketches and "stand up" monologues so brilliantly scripted as to seem improvised. (Even moments that youd swear were interpolated ad libs are scripted.) This includes encounters with well meaning and/or inept doctors, clergy, family, friends, etc., etc. And in Act Two, we actually see Sheila and Bri play host to a well-meaning couple and, unexpectedly, Bris mother.
Then in 1982 there was an acclaimed revival, starring Jim Dale and Stockard Channing.
Yet I was less than acclamatory.
Ms. Channing, a lovely actress, did not convincingly pull off a British accent or sensibility (she was to fare much better at that with Alan Ayckbourns "Woman in Mind", some years later); and as for Jim Dale the usual. So skilled, but so on all the time that he exhausted you. Never let the audience find him, always pushed the comedy, especially the physical comedy, so hard that it rendered Brian cool and obnoxious. I wondered if the play were, in fact, as good as it seemed on paper, or if perhaps its shock value had quietly dated.
Well, with the triumphant Roundabout revival at the American Airlines Theatre, imported from London, "Joe Egg" is, I am pleased to say, again living up to Mr. Goldmans sense of revelation. Under the direction of Laurence Boswell, this is how it ought to be done.
As Sheila, Victoria Hamilton is the soul of the monolithically over-devoted mom, trying to compartmentalize an overtaxed lifeand as a Britisher, she isnt laboring over that aspect at all. And as Brian, standup comedian Eddie Izzard brings all his craft to bear. The jokes are lobbed easily, the "ad libs" delivered so off-the-cuff they are nearly secretsyet this gives the performance incredible power. But hes not just a comic, hes also an actor of truly surprising sensitivity, and he and Ms. Hamilton are a team of such subtle coordination that they truly do seem like long-term marrieds.
No less astonishing in her own way is the young actress, who plays Josephine, Madeleine Martin, who makes Josephines disconnectednes and spastic fits positively chilling.
Rounding out the cast are the visiting friendsthe uncomfortable, avoidant Margaret Colin and the boisterous, too-well-meaning Michael Gastonand as Mum, passive-aggressive perfection, Dana Ivey.
This is a great and rare play, performed in great and rare style. Its about finding the hope in hopelessness, the uplift in heartbreak, and the strength to go on when the alternative is insupportable. The human condition doesnt get much more affectingly or provokingly examined than that