Theatre in Review: Partnership (Mint Theater Company/Theatre Row) If George Bernard Shaw was interested in the New Woman, Elizabeth Baker specialized in the Businesswoman. The long-obscure playwright, whose career ran roughly parallel to Shaw's heyday, specialized in middle-class studies that leave a tart aftertaste, filled as they are with lives shaped, often unhappily, by the demands of commerce. At least Kate, the heroine of Partnership, is a success. The proprietress of a popular Brighton dress shop, she skillfully handles her increasingly upscale clientele, although, occasionally, the strain shows. "Such a bore, having to manage people," she says, dismissing her customers as a "lot of babies." "You make it pay," notes her head dressmaker. "So I do," admits Kate, with no small satisfaction. As played by Sara Haider with a broad smile often contradicted by wary, worried eyes and nervous gestures that suggest a world of emotions held in check, Kate is the brisk mistress of her little world, and she knows her worth. "I'm beginning to think we're eligible young women," she remarks to her colleague Maisie, totting up the number of proposals they've received in the previous month. Maisie (Olivia Gilliatt, cheerful and diamond-hard about men), dismisses her latest prospect, a colonel ("He's on half-pay!" she says, dismissively), noting happily that they'll really be in the money if they land a local duchess as a customer. ("Up goes our price!") Kate, looking to the future, admits she wouldn't mind forming a partnership with George Pillatt, the owner of a rival business, although she seeks little chance of it. To be sure, she is largely attracted to his capital. Partnership is, ostensibly, a romantic comedy but its heart is calculating, its sentiments suitable for entering in a ledger. One can only imagine what audiences in 1917 made of such independent, dry-eyed female characters. As it happens, Pillatt appears with a proposal, accompanied by a detailed business plan, which includes buying the space next door and opening an expanded shop under their joint ownership. (As played by Gene Gillette, with one hand on a hip and another on his walking stick, he looks suitable for framing and hanging in the National Gallery.) This is no hearts-and-flowers affair for him, either. "I am not a sentimentalist," he concedes. "But then you, a woman of business, do not wish for any expression of sentiment." When Kate worries about the possible loss of her autonomy, he responds, "You would have your part of the concern. I should have mine. We should each be responsible for its management, just as two men might." Mustering his scant emotional resources, he adds, "The difference is that in our case the contract is a slightly closer one -- which is an advantage." If such an offer is unlikely to set many female hearts aflutter, Kate likes it just fine and is willing to sign on the dotted line. But before this merger can be completed, Baker introduces Lawrence Fawcett, scion of Esmerelda Corsets, who, having sold out his interest in the family business, has put his money into the speculative development of new fabric dyes. (Baker can't resist having characters once or twice, refer, witheringly to Fawcett's "dyeing business.") More to the point, he takes off as much time as possible, preferring to enjoy the splendors of the English countryside on long hiking vacations. Such ideas should be anathema to Kate, but she finds herself strangely attracted to his free-and-easy ways; soon, she is keeping irregular hours to -- horrors! -- enjoy herself. This is the point at which the delightfully astringent Partnership gets a little squishy. Baker, so acute in mercantile matters, can't quite imagine a dreamer and nature-lover like Fawcett; he comes off as a little more feckless than one would like. Compounding matters, Joshua Echebiri, who plays him, doesn't convincingly communicate Fawcett's passion for a life unfettered from the pursuit of material achievement. As a result, one accepts Kate's rebellion without quite believing in it. Furthermore, Baker, never one for sweeping, melodramatic gestures, ends the action on an open, mildly anticlimactic note, leaving one feeling that Partnership is a rather small story stretched over three acts. Nevertheless, Jackson Grace Gay's production is filled with performances that are witty and perfectly attuned to period style. Haider is a real find; I'm already making a list of classical roles that would suit her perfectly. (What a Vivie Warren she would make!) In addition to Gillette, offering his proposal in a silken murmur that suggests an indecent pleasure in profit, and Gilliatt, mixing charm and ruthlessness in equal measures, there are fine contributions from Gina Daniels as the shop's all-seeing voice of reason and Madeline Seidman as a weepy clerk whose man problems cause her to frequently turn on the waterworks. In a bit of luxury casting, Christiane Noll, as the shop's most high-maintenance client, shows plenty of aristocratic attitude while modeling some of Kindall Almond's most stunning period ensembles. In addition, set designer Alexander Woodward provides a lovingly detailed interior depicting the shop's fitting room and a seacoast exterior that draws on a gorgeous painterly landscape by the artist James Hart Dyke. Mary Louise Geiger's lighting is especially good at drawing out the many colors embedded in Dyke's palette. The sound design, by Daniel Baker and Co, makes attractive use of the String Quartet in A Major by the 19th-century composer Amanda Röntgen-Maier. If not as arresting as Baker's Chains, produced at the Mint last year, Partnership is an engaging piece by a writer whose trenchant feminist point of view was allowed to be forgotten for far too long. It's good to have Elizabeth Baker back in the mix. --David Barbour 
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