[caption id="attachment_18544" align="alignnone" width="300"]
Brooke Alexander and Vincent Carbone as Mrs. Robinson and Ben Braddock. (tom kochie photo).[/caption]
By Annette Hinkle
For the generation of baby boomers who came of age in the late 1960s, “The Graduate” has long been considered a defining film. It still holds up well and perhaps no movie so perfectly illustrates the “Generation Gap” of its time, empowering youth, as it did, in ways never before dreamed of while parents were left scratching their heads over the sullen demeanors of children who had it all.
The tale of Benjamin Braddock, a recent college graduate, and his illicit affair with one of his parents’ friends — the much older, wiser and very married Mrs. Robinson — speaks of suburban disillusionment and was a wake up call of sorts for 20-somethings itching to break free from societal constraint in the late ‘60s. A dose of Jack Kerouac with a Simon & Garfunkel soundtrack.
Well, it’s 2012 and “The Graduate” is back. Not on film this time, but courtesy of Center Stage at Southampton Cultural Center where Terry Johnson’s theatrical version of the script is running through July 29 . Young Ben still has his issues, but so does Mrs. Robinson — chief among them alcoholism. And by the way, these days, Mrs. Robinson is far younger than any of those baby boomers now are who identified with Benjamin Braddock in 1967. She’s also far more tragic — proving that the grass is definitely not greener when viewed from the other side of the hill.
Michael Disher directs this production, and young Vincent Carbone stars as Ben, who, as the play open, is fresh from college and unwilling to mingle poolside with his parents’ friends at his own graduation party. Ben’s folks (played by John Tramontana and Barbara Jo Howard) are irate and at a loss to explain their son’s unwillingness to show his face at his own party. A certain inexplicable post-graduate depression has set in, and attempts by his parents and family friend Mr. Robinson (Seth Hendricks) to boost Ben’s ego and get him out of his room by recounting his many college accomplishments only backfires.
But when a besotted Mrs. Robinson (Brooke Alexander) takes refuge from the party in Ben’s room (she can’t seem to find the guest room despite his polite coaching), and slips off her clothes, it’s pretty clear she’s not like the rest of his parents’ friends. Though Ben extricates himself from the situation without “going there” the stage is set. It doesn’t take long for things to progress as these things often do and soon, Ben and Mrs. Robinson are meeting regularly in a local hotel room.
Meanwhile, worried about his lack of direction or interest in life, Ben’s parents encourage him to go out with Elaine Robinson (played by Bethany Dellapolla). Mr. Robinson is all for it too, unaware, of course, that Ben is sleeping with his wife. When Mrs. Robinson finds out Ben is not only seeing Elaine, but falling in love, her wrath grows to epic proportions.
Both Alexander and Carbone do a very good job in roles that are complex, demanding, and at times, uncomfortable. Alexander’s demeanor and appearance, particularly, are spot on for the era and Carbone’s naiveté is charming. But both performances are also derivative of Anne Bancroft and Dustin Hoffman in the movie version of the story and those who know the film well should expect nothing new in that vein — even some of the sight gags are the same.
However, there are surprises in the play — and these come primarily in the second act, making this an interesting piece to consider in retrospect.
While the movie is a classic, there was always something vaguely unsatisfying about the screenplay – not just Ben’s bad attitude, but in particular the motivation behind Mrs. Robinson’s actions — her initial seduction of Ben and her refusal to allow her daughter to be happy. Part of the problem in the film, it seems, is that Elaine remains largely a caricature — a virtual pawn in the sexual exploits between her mother and Ben.
But that’s not the case in the stage version and act two gives us a chance to get to know the young woman caught in the middle (played nicely by Dellapolla), while helping us to understand the societal constraints that doomed Mrs. Robinson to her fate. That’s ultimately what makes this piece such an iconic tale of the late ‘60s. It reflects the end of the era when people got married because they “had to.” Going forward, unintended pregnancy was no longer reason enough to spend the rest of your life with the wrong person — and for the first time in history, there were effective ways available to avoid pregnancy altogether. But it’s all too late for Mrs. Robinson, and in deciding their own destiny, Ben and Elaine represent the shifting paradigm that embodied the gulf between those two vastly diverse generations.
Ben and Elaine’s freedom is something Mrs. Robinson realizes she will never have. So she resents the daughter whose own conception sealed her fate and seduces a man half her age in a desperate attention getting act of rebellion. Mrs. Robison can’t bear the thought that the daughter who ruined her life will find the happiness she’s been denied.
It’s a powerful message that brings depth to the story and puts the people and the place in context. Disher should be commended for reminding us just how relevant this script still is. Mrs. Robinson is a woman we now understand, for better or for worse, and “The Graduate” is a much more complete, if naughty, trip down memory lane. We can also thank Disher for indulging the boomers among us by lacing the production with Simon and Garfunkel segues, as well as some of those slightly older numbers which would have certainly found their way onto the Robinson’s turntable.
Coo co cachoo.
“The Graduate” runs through July 29. 2012 at the Southampton Cultural Center (25 Pond Lane, Southampton). The cast also features Stewart Mead and Julia King in supporting roles. Peter Eilenberg designed the lighting and sound. Shows are Thursdays at 7 p.m., Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 5 p.m. Admission is $22 (students under 21 $12).Call 287-4377 to reserve.
