THREE DAYS OF RAIN

"Three Days of Rain" by Richard Greenberg is the type of play that Ensemble Theatre of Cincinnati does best. In a relatively new script, a few complex human beings puzzle over and respond to an intriguing situation through smart writing and a dab of theatricality. ETC Artistic Director D. Lynn Meyers can add Greenberg's name to the list, which includes Warren Leight and Steven Dietz, of playwrights whose next work we look forward to seeing her produce.

"Three Days of Rain" asks how much of our current lives we can attribute to our parents, and then shows how misguided our perceptions of them can be. It demands actors to portray both generations. Act one is fueled by a lack of sleep and food, combined with the tensions of reunions after a death. Architect Ned Janeway's estate is about to be distributed among his son, Walker; his daughter, Nan; and his business partner's son, Pip. Walker struggles to unlock the mystery of his taciturn father's life. In the abandoned New York City apartment where Janeway once lived and worked, he finds his father's journal, full of cryptic, intermittent entries. The first reads simply "Three days of rain."

In act two, we see part of those three days. And a lot of the rain, which steadily falls behind the apartment, then alongside it. The actors now portray their characters' parents. Jeffrey Hutchinson, Sherman Fracher, and Brent Langdon demonstrate impressive character acting as they transform believably from one generation to the next. After hearing about the father's silence, the mother's madness, and Pip's dad's early death, we now watch what really happened. Shown not through the skewed perspective of the children, the story becomes calmer while remaining engaging. Act one presents a kaleidoscope of pieces of the past. Act two rearranges them to create a focused image.

Hutchinson's Walker is a fast-talking, slouching man who follows his instinct and dreams, whether to Italy or to Staten Island, in an attempt to escape his frustrations. He's comfortable being solitary, not being social. Walker is almost instantly likeable, as Hutchinson casually shares his version of his father's story with the audience in a monologue. The technique, which Greenberg repeats with Nan and then Pip, draws the audience into an exchange with the characters as well as providing exposition. The actors pull it off by combining directness with friendliness. Hutchinson's lines in particular seem to bubble up from a turbulent mind, original thoughts that occur at the moment, sometimes complete, often fragmentary and disconnected.

Playing Walker's father, Ned, in act two, Hutchinson affects a stutter and speaks little. As Ned himself says, he doesn't waste words. He goes from rumpled to pressed, thanks to costume designer Reba Senske. The most remarkable comparison, though, comes from Greenberg's script. Ned often echoes Walker's ideas and his actions answer many of, but not all and not always obviously, the son's questions. The influence is greater than Walker realizes. For example, Ned wished that someone better than he would pursue his own desire and be a flaneur, a vagabond prince who contentedly walked the city and absorbed the atmosphere of various coffee shops. "Flaneur" means walker, and the son indeed paces across much of New York City, stopping in at a wine and cheese bar, while sorting out his father's legacy.

Fracher switches from an uptight yet concerned sister (Nan) to a troublesome muse of a girlfriend (Lina). As both characters, Fracher knows how to listen and react without needing words. But when the words do come from Lina, they tend to soar on dreams and pulse with ideas. The extroverted, free-thinking mother hints at, but is not yet, the psychologically unstable woman known by her no-nonsense daughter. This makes the mental snap during the intervening period and its effect on the family even more tragic.

Langdon first appears as Pip, a confident soap opera actor who's happy at the top of his mediocre world. This guy clearly has a history with both Nan and Walker, evident in the way they share the stage as much as in their dialogue. As his father, architect Theo, Langdon is a nervous, ambitious young man who resolves conflicts by pretending they didn't happen. Which is what his son does, too. Will Pip also succumb to the devastating effects of the theory that no resolution makes a tidy resolution? Greenberg's play presents the after and before, but it also encourages the audience to connect the dots between and beyond. Surely these characters continue to exist outside the script.

Throughout "Three Days of Rain", Meyers has effectively shaped pacing and vocal gesture. Rapid arguments crescendo through anger and frustration until nothing more can be said. Pauses sink with comprehension, if not acceptance. The production moves swiftly, and, in its biggest flaw, ends abruptly. To be left still studying the puzzle pieces is fine. But to not realize it's time to applaud suggests that the closing scene needs to be fine-tuned after opening night.

Especially when seen on the same stage, "Three Days of Rain" calls to mind "Glimmer, Glimmer, and Shine" by Warren Leight, ETC's season opener. Although written in distinctive styles, both are collages of family memories and current relationships. The theme of reconciliation for parents' deeds is essential to each plot. They demonstrate, too, that the craft of playwriting is still practiced at a high level in America, offering a creative legacy for theatre artists and audiences.