Theatre in Review: The Winslow Boy (Roundabout Theatre Company/American Airlines Theatre)Beware critics (or anyone, really) who labels a play "old-fashioned" or "a chestnut." Plays are as old-fashioned as the people playing in them; give one a probing director and a cast that hasn't been told that they're starring in something best enjoyed by their Aunt Edna, and see how it crackles. A case in point is the Roundabout revival of The Winslow Boy. Terence Rattigan was the master of commercial British playwriting at mid-century, and The Winslow Boy certainly minds it manners, or its conventions. It begins with the parlor maid (it is 1912) dispensing some needed exposition, and then it proceeds to introduce, in leisurely fashion, each member of the Winslow family, a fairly stock bunch that includes Arthur, the aging, tyrannical paterfamilias; Grace, his domestically minded wife; Dickie, his lightweight elder son; and Catherine, his suffragette daughter, who is engaged to a nice young military officer. The Winslow Boy, however, is Ronnie, who at 13 has returned home from Osborne Naval College in disgrace, having been expelled for stealing a five-pound postal money order. Ronnie, under brusque examination from Arthur, insists he is innocent, and the family resolves to stand behind him. All of this is handled with brisk efficiency thanks to Lindsay Posner's crisp direction -- there isn't a single slow moment -- and a more-than-capable cast. Up to this point, The Winslow Boy appears to be an immaculately restored antique, pleasant enough to look at without being especially compelling. Then, Rattigan throws a curveball into his plot with the appearance of Sir Robert Morton, the celebrity lawyer (yes, they had them even in the Edwardian era) who is considering taking on the Winslow case. As rude as he is aristocratic, he manages to offend each of the Winslows before settling down to a blistering inquiry of the boy before his entire family. He batters Ronnie with questions, forcing him to make incriminating admissions and all but reducing him to tears. Suddenly what was previously cozy becomes electrifying as we realize that Rattigan has several dramatic aces up his sleeve. From this point on, The Winslow Boy becomes less about the case -- we hear plenty about it, but it all happens offstage -- and more about its effect on the family as it makes its way into the House of Commons and becomes a cause célèbre. Crowds of reporters take up permanent residence on the Winslow doorstep, upsetting the family's daily rountine. Arthur, almost obsessed with clearing his son's name, dips into his capital to pay the legal fees, threatening Dickie's college career and Catherine's dowry. Catherine's marriage hangs in the balance anyway, as her prospective father-in-law deeply disapproves of the scandal that has accrued to the Winslow name. Even Violet, the maid, may have to be let go. It suddenly becomes clear why Rattigan spent so much time up front detailing the life of the household and attending to such matters as the financial arrangements attached to Catherine's engagement, for the case has become about much more than clearing Ronnie's name. To a family like the Winslows, possessed of modest wealth and social position, respectability is everything, and their newfound notoriety threatens to undermine everything they hold dear. In one of the most gripping passages, Grace, who normally defers to her husband, turns on him in full fury, accusing him of destroying their lives to absolve Ronnie of a stain that could have been all-too-easily covered up. Grace is played by Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio, and it's a fine example of a highly intelligent actress bringing her skills to bear on a somewhat limited role. For most of the play, she bustles about busily, attending to the details of managing the household, but when the opportunity comes, she seizes it, telling the brutal truth, and damn the consequences. She has as fine a scene partner as anyone could wish for in Roger Rees, his body becoming progressively more wizened with arthritis and anxiety as he bets his family's future on clearing Ronnie's name. The entire company is excellent, starting with Charlotte Parry's Catherine; arguably the most complex character in the play, she notes with carefully understated dismay how the case may determine a significant part of her future. Alessandro Nivola is a superb Sir Robert Morton, who approaches each personal encounter as if stepping before the bar, yet who regards the Winslow case with a singular passion. There are also fine contributions from Zachary Booth as Dickie, who dislikes work and loves the gramophone (especially when it is playing ragtime); Chandler Williams as Catherine's not-entirely trustworthy fiancé; Michael Cumpsty as another solicitor (and aging cricket player) who wouldn't mind marrying Catherine himself; Spencer Davis Milford as Ronnie; Henny Russell as the eccentric maid, who is probably unemployable outside the Winslow household; and Meredith Forlenza as a newspaper reporter who is more interested in the Winslow curtains than The Winslow Boy. The production has been handsomely outfitted by Peter McKintosh, who has provided a pleasantly Edwardian drawing room complete with floral wallpaper, along with costumes that capture the rather odd female silhouette of the period (tapered on top, bulky from the waist down). David Lander's meticulous, understated lighting shows how a room can be changed by atmospheric conditions outdoors (an afternoon shower giving way to sunshine). Drew Levy's sound design provides a few key effects -- music from a gramophone, the scrum of reporters outside -- and reinforcement for Michael Bruce's original music. The Winslow Boy works because nobody condescends to it, choosing to play it as the life-or-death matter that it is. When a production takes off like this, the only word for it is ageless.--David Barbour 
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