stage It’s April 1, 1919, and John Pace Seavering has a problem. This idealistic young member of the Lost Generation has used his share of the family fortune to set up a publishing firm in Manhattan (think James Laughlin of New Directions Press), and finds his office crammed with manuscripts. His less privileged Princeton classmate, the talented but diffuse Denny McCleary, has written a sprawling novel that fills three crates in typescript—think Scott Fitzgerald in desperate need of pruning by Maxwell Perkins. Only if Seavering prints it can McCleary marry his Zelda, the beef industry heiress Rosamund Plinth. But Jessie Brewster, the “Colored” chanteuse who is Seavering’s secret lover, has submitted a more polished and concise memoir of her rise from poverty to fame. Seavering can afford to publish only one book; which will it be?
 Matt Fletcher and Richelle Claiborne enliven a storybook romance—albeit one with too many darned pages—in Richard Greenberg’s The Violet Hour, playing at Live Arts. |
Such is the premise of The Violet Hour, Live Arts’ (www.livearts.org) current offering from playwright Richard Greenberg, prolific author of such recent Broadway hits as The Dazzle and Take Me Out. But the straightforward dilemma is skewed by the arrival of a deus ex machina—almost literally. A mysterious machine is delivered anonymously to the publisher’s office and begins spewing pages printed with future history, including the fates of Seavering and his friends. This sci-fi twist adds layers (or should I say sheets?) of moral choice and cultural commentary to an already compelling dramatic base.
Live Arts’ production succeeds by solid casting. Matt Fletcher is convincingly aristocratic and Scott Keith full of Celtic passion in the respective roles of Seavering and McCleary, two types of callow-yet-lovable ex-Ivy Leaguers. The more mature Jessie Brewster is played with worldly languor by Richelle Claiborne, a standout in Live Arts’ Ain’t Misbehavin’ last December, who proves her acting skills are equal to her singing voice and regal stage presence. Perhaps the hardest-working member of the cast, Jude Silveira provides comic relief as the overqualified office assistant Gidger, fussily lamenting his insignificance.