stage
As far as I know, the theater lexicon doesn’t contain a word comparable to “chick flick,” so I guess that’s what I have to call Sarah Ruhl’s 2004 Pulitzer Prize-nominated play, The Clean House. As every movie (or theater) buff knows, there are three kinds of chick flicks: art house fare that any man with three quarters of a brain appreciates and even wants to discuss afterwards; sappy romances; and stories that are strictly about women, which can make some men feel like they’re observing a sociological experiment involving aliens from Venus. While The Clean House is intelligent enough to fit in the first category, it’s firmly placed in the third. Yet Ruhl’s sly and sometimes silly humor, as well as an unexpected plot and tonal twist that’s too good to give away—all captured nicely by the cast and crew of Live Arts’ production—extend a welcoming hand to anyone and everyone.
 Under where? Christianna Queiroz (left) and Cynthia Burke (right) uncover a few domestic secrets in The Clean House at Live Arts. |
Real-life sisters Susan and Cynthia Burke play sisters Lane and Virginia. Both live a suburban life in what Ruhl describes as “a metaphysical Connecticut.” (Lane’s house, designer Krista Franco’s main set, looks like it’s straight out of an empirical Hollywood Hills, but it does the trick.) Lane is dealing with two problems: Her Brazilian maid, Matilde (Christianne Queiroz), doesn’t actually like to clean, and her doctor husband, Charles (Bill LeSueur, who by day is C-VILLE’s art director), is having an affair with one of his patients (Kay Leigh Ferguson). Virginia, who absolutely loves to clean (read: she’s a germaphobe), befriends Matilde and takes over her job, absolutely loving the fact that she can order her sister’s life behind her back.
The first half of the play, delightful though its jokes are, seems mired in a generic domestic dramedy, especially when director Amanda McRaven’s touch in the fairly serious moments fizzles a bit. It’s just a staging ground, however, for Ruhl to unleash a flurry of surprises, and for McRaven to keep up with her step-by-step by piling on ideas and making what can only be described as a sumptuous mess.
But the production really belongs to two Live Arts veterans, Cynthia Burke and LeSueur. Burke’s delicious comic timing keeps the first half buzzing, and she practically oozes the neuroses of a woman who wants to tidy up the whole world or, better yet, sweep it all into a plastic bag. And LeSueur, with his dead-on portrayal of a man who believes floating on a cloud of love nullifies all manner of sins, injects a dose of energy into the second half that carries through all the way to the end.