Theatre in Review: Unnatural Acts (Classic Stage Company)

In 2002, Amit Paley, a student reporter at Harvard, discovered in the university's archive a set of suppressed documents that proved to be a treasure trove of scandal; they related to the history of a "secret court" convened in 1920 to root out homosexuals among the student body. It's an appalling story, but also an inherently dramatic one, and Tony Speciale, working in collaboration with the members of The Plastic Theatre, has brought it to hair-raising life in Unnatural Acts.

Surprisingly, given the fact that it was written by many hands, Unnatural Acts appears to be the work of a single sensibility, thanks to its classic dramatic structure, stinging dialogue, and a climax that packs a wallop of a surprise. In this talented group's hands, what might have been a feel-bad history lesson designed to stoke the audience's righteous anger becomes a crackling drama in which heroes are conspicuously absent.

In fact, one of the best things about Unnatural Acts is its refusal to sentimentalize its young protagonists. Most of Act I is devoted to establishing the peculiar details of life inside the university's closeted set, a taboo-breaking existence that, in addition to prohibited relationships, includes plenty of illegal boozing, the odd bit of cross-dressing, and running around with adult men from nearby Boston.

The center of this clandestine crowd is Ernest Roberts, whose dorm room is the site for the group's notorious parties. The son of a Congressman, Ernest is preternaturally well-versed in the ways of the world - and, more than the others, is aware of the double game that they must learn to play if they're going to get by in the world. Nick Westrate, combining impeccable manners with a supremely wised-up attitude, excels as Roberts, especially when swanning around in an evening gown purchased by his fiancée, pouring drinks for his guests.

The others are a diverse mix of personalities and attitudes, students and faculty members bound only by their sexual orientation. They are serious and flippant, romantic and promiscuous. Some come from prominent families; others are strivers hoping to make their mark with a Harvard degree. A long sequence, set at one of Roberts' soirees, is an extended exercise in adolescent foolishness, with plenty of raucous, noisy antics fueled by barbed comments and plenty of bathtub gin. (The only difference between this and your typical frat house booze bust is the tremendous amount of pent-up energy the gays exhibit when they are finally relieved -- for a few hours, anyway -- of the burden of living a lie.)

Oddly enough, when trouble comes, it is triggered by an offstage event. A young man named Wilcox, having suffered a romantic disappointment, leaves the school and returns home, where, soon after, he kills himself. For reasons that are not immediately made clear, the death, in Fall River, Massachusetts, triggers the interest of Harvard's administration, and soon the witch hunt is on. The first victim is Kenneth Day, a handsome, apparently straight, athlete who ostensibly has little to do with the gay crowd, but who secretly accepts sexual services from Roberts. ("I need to feel something," he tells Roberts, pathetically, as he loosens his trousers.) In what will be the first in a series of ugly confrontations, we see Roberts crumble as his carapace of lies is quietly, efficiently stripped away, leaving him cruelly exposed and with no future to speak of.

The second act, which consists extensively of such interrogations by the secret court, might have seemed repetitive, but Speciale and his collaborators manage to find ways to make each one distinctive. In one case, a young man who courted another by way of coaching him for the drama club, disowns the relationship publicly, while his former lover simultaneously declaims a speech from Antony and Cleopatra that comments bitterly on his own betrayal. It's pathetic to see these young men face the loss of the privileged lives guaranteed by a Harvard degree; it's even more dismaying to see how quickly many of them turn on each other as they desperately attempt to save themselves.

It all leads to a knockout of a climactic confrontation between Eugene Cummings, Wilcox's lifelong friend and Harvard colleague, and Lester, Wilcox's older brother, which reveals why the investigation was begun and why it cannot be stopped. And, in a coda filled with ironies, we learn the fate of each of the students; suffice it to say that, in this case, honesty was not necessarily the best policy.

Under Speciale's direction, the company tells the story all the more effectively by employing a certain degree of detachment, confident that the facts themselves are horrifying enough to not require any special pleading. The staging is filled with subtle, yet telling, moments. A student quietly stops himself from crossing his legs in front of his interrogators, fearing the gesture might seem too effeminate. A potentially provocative conversation between an instructor and a student is postponed for a couple a weeks, until their course is over and their relationship is on another footing; the pause that follows is charged with meaning. Two students hover on the edge of a kiss, until the appearance of a third sends them into panicked retreat. In fact, the only real directorial misstep is a lengthy sequence of choreographed movement that accompanies a final, summing-up aria that details the devastation caused by the investigation; the words are electrifying enough without trying to turn the sequence into a production number. (One other note: Someone might want to peruse the script one more time, to eliminate such anachronistic terms as "lifestyle.")

The entire cast, many of whom had a hand in shaping the script, is first-rate. In addition to Westrate, Will Rogers is touching as a student who hovers around the edge of the group, ambivalent about becoming involved, and Roderick Hill is especially gripping as Lester Wilcox, whose feelings for his late brother are composed of equal parts pity and fury. The production is equally well-designed. There's an elegant simplicity to Walt Spangler's set, with its polished wood deck and rows of bookshelves, all of which are treated with tremendous precision by Justin Townsend's lighting. Andrea Lauer's costumes are exceptionally fine examples of men's period tailoring. Christian Frederickson's sound design blends effects and period music in a seamless manner.

In one sense, Unnatural Acts details how far we've come; it's impossible to imagine such a persecution taking place in the Ivy League today. Then again, it's all too easy to imagine it happening in many other corners of American society even now. Some of those many Americans who worry so operatically about "the homosexual agenda" ought to take a look at this powerful drama. They might come away with different ideas about who is the oppressor and who is the oppressed.--David Barbour