The Dining Room

Photo Credit: West End Studio Theatre

American playwright A. R Gurney’s iconic 1981 play The Dining Room is a theatrical marvel, consisting of eighteen unique vignettes that chronicle the influence and decline of White Anglo-Saxon Protestant (WASP) culture in America. Spanning multiple families and time periods (and united by one dining table), the play’s characters are varied and eccentric; there are over fifty of them.

Yet, director Yo Mustafa and his cast of eight actors rose to the challenge, portraying every new character with grace and endurance. As a result, their performance poignantly captured Gurney’s bittersweet examination of a niche and fading way of life.

This production of The Dining Room’s greatest strength lay in its elegantly simple yet symbolically rich set design. The central dining table, crafted with a warm wood and surrounded by six matching chairs, was undeniably the beating heart of the performance, as it anchors and unites these otherwise completely detached families. The addition of two armchairs downstage left and right created smaller zones for private and tense moments, and added more dimension and depth to the stage. Moreover, the appearances of these families were all centred around one panel of curtain upstage center. Each new character entered from stage right and eventually exited through stage left. Director Mustafa clearly had a vision of continuity with this detail; while it was symbolic, the technical execution did not hold up because the small size of the curtain restricted the actors’ movements and lacked a sense of seamlessness. Overall, considering the intimacy of these family vignettes, Mustafa made a brilliant decision to stick to simplicity. The production used no background sounds, dramatic lighting, or extravagant props, and instead relied on the dynamic tension between its different characters.

Considering this choice, it is no surprise that many of the performers brought the story to life with their notable acting choices. Linda Spence deserves particular recognition for her skillful accent work. From the WASP-y Transatlantic accent of a posh New England upbringing to her depiction of an Irish housemaid, Spence introduced realism and a nuanced portrayal of class identity to her varied characters. Beyond her vocal capabilities, Spence’s shift from the humble servant to Emily, a dramatic tradition-obsessed character, demonstrated the range of Spence’s physicality. For instance, the “drama-queen” gestures she employs as Emily provided a stark and instantly recognizable contrast to her earlier restraint.

Similarly, Chris Reid commanded attention with his resonant low voice and sincere commitment to his physicality, particularly in his portrayal of the Grandfather. His ability to embody age through posture, gesture, and vocal weight demonstrated a genuine and thoughtful understanding of elderly characters beyond just a hunched back and creaky groans.

Finally, Susan Applewhaite delivered an equally impressive array of comedic, stern, and curious characters, which were all well distinguished by her voice, tempo, and physicality. Her portrayal of Martha, a maid, made the audience erupt in laughter with choices like the outdated wooden spoon she held up ominously and her hunched body and squinting eyes. Conversely, her careful enunciation and slow pacing during sedated moments conveyed a sense of maturity that this play required to balance out its humour. For instance, while her comedic moments were enjoyable, the standout monologue of her character Ruth’s dream showcased desperate yearning, vulnerability, and defeat. This moment genuinely moved the audience and added a new layer of nuance to the play, highlighting the characters as more than just ridiculous WASPs.

Unfortunately, amidst a strong performing cast, Jason Swenor’s lack of depth in characterization for all the characters that he portrays (Client, Howard, Psychiatrist, Ted, Fred, and Jim) undermines the production’s demanding needs. Rather than inhabiting distinct individuals, Swenor appeared to play one single character in six different costumes. His monotoned vocal delivery, combined with his unchangingly stiff physicality, left the audience confused about whether they were witnessing the passage of time within one character’s life or entirely different people across different households. Even in playful scenes, such as Ted’s affair with Peggy during a birthday party, Swenor’s absence of humour and playful energy drained the moment of its intended sneaky thrill.

Lucy Ellis faced similar struggles in characterization for all the characters that she played (Girl, Carolyn, Winkie, Nancy, Sarah, and Meg). Moments where joyful characters like Winkie required joyful exuberance revealed a disconnect between her physical and vocal choices. While Ellis’ happy jump appeared to be a phlegmatic and halfhearted bounce, her vocal delivery overcompensated by veering into over-inflected territory. This incongruity persisted throughout the performance, even during grave moments, where her voice directly contrasted with other voices. While this difference may be explained by the fact that Ellis’s background as a singer, a greater distinction between her upper and lower registers would have benefited her performance.

Overall, while both performers demonstrated commitment and effort, The Dining Room is an unforgiving character-driven piece that demands and relies on its actors to fully disappear into their roles. Failing to do so means that Gurney’s intricate theatrical mechanism breaks down, and the audience loses faith in the magic of the actors’ transformations.

Ultimately, West End Studio Theatre’s production of The Dining Room demonstrated the importance of endurance—physical and cultural. The cast of eight put on an incredible show of flexibility in character work, as each person juggled at least six distinct characters.

Taking the simple concept of one stoic dining table that lived through so many lives, Mustafa and the cast wove together a grounding and cohesive narrative. They blend humour, pathos, and satire to both poke fun at the WASPy obsession with tradition and stability, while remaining empathetic and understanding. With the small and intimate venue, audiences realize that The Dining Room is not just a story about one element of American culture. Instead, the play is a beautiful reminder of how, for all that humans change, there will always be small elements of consistency that ground us in our history.