Theatre in Review: When We Were Young and Unafraid (Manhattan Theatre Club/City Center Stage I)Manhattan Theatre Club has been tough on its leading ladies recently. Even with the aid of a top supporting cast, Mary-Louise Parker struggled to animate The Snow Geese. Blythe Danner and Sarah Jessica Parker, a formidable duo by any stretch of the imagination, were left stranded in the underwritten The Commons of Pensacola. And in Tales from Red Vienna, Nina Arianda found herself stuck with the kind of script that might have worked for Bette Davis during her reign at Warner Brothers, but which seemed weirdly out of place in 2014. But things are looking up, thanks to When We Were Young and Unafraid. Sarah Treem's new drama is far from perfect -- it's a messy piece, full of loose ends and dramatic cul-de-sacs -- but it's an engaging work with something to say. More to the point, it gives Cherry Jones a role that proves an ideal fit and it also affords Zoe Kazan a challenging, complex character, reminding us of just what she is capable of doing. Jones is Agnes, who runs a bed and breakfast on an island off the coast of Seattle in 1972; living with her is Penny, a high-school overachiever who has no use for boys or proms (she calls it "a bastardized summer solstice ritual"), or any other adolescent symbol of popularity. Penny has her eye on Yale. "I didn't think Yale accepted women," says Agnes, reminding us how quickly things have changed for women in the last four decades. Nothing is quite as it seems, however; Agnes' home is also a halfway house for battered women hiding out from their abusive husbands. A faint doorbell is heard, followed by a knock from below, and Agnes lifts up a door hidden in the kitchen floor to admit another frightened guest. The latest to appear is Mary Anne (Kazan), sporting a terrific shiner and a cut just below the eye that is deep enough to require stitches. Mary Anne, who is both an innocent victim and something of a handful, starts upsetting the order of Agnes' household in ways small and large. Confined to the upstairs of the house while her face heals, she consumes little more than coffee, whiskey, and cigarettes, slowly going mad with boredom. As the memory of her husband's latest beating fades, she finds herself missing him against her better judgment; nevertheless, she flirts with Paul, a musician, who is one of Agnes' guests. And she begins giving Penny advice about men, transforming the impressionable young lady from an academic grind to a frilly coquette who lands the captain of the football team. The latter effort is almost too successful, as Penny begins neglecting her studies and starts acting out in alarming ways. The rising tension level is abetted by a number of revelations, among them why Agnes no longer works as a nurse and why she keeps forgetting to produce Penny's birth certificate. As it happens, Mary Anne has been less than forthcoming herself, a fact that becomes obvious when her husband appears on Agnes' doorstep. The most interesting thing about When We Were Young and Unafraid is how it sees 1972 as a momentous year for women, with all sorts of arguments on the table about their roles in society. Treem contrasts Mary Anne, whose identity is entirely tied up with men (an approach that has gotten her little in life) with Agnes, a strong, independent, but thoroughly conventional woman. ("I'm not a political person," she insists, even though she is operating her shelter at great risk.) The author also throws into the mix Hannah, a lesbian feminist separatist who believes world revolution is just around the corner and who thinks Agnes should join a nearby all-female community so exclusive it doesn't even admit male children. Hannah is fond of making grand pronouncements. "Passivity is the Minotaur every woman needs to slay to escape the labyrinth," she says, leaving Agnes slack-jawed. None of this is lost on Penny, who suddenly discovers that everything she thought she knew about herself is up for grabs. When We Were Young and Unafraid isn't elegantly plotted -- there are too many eleventh-hour shockers and Hannah is shoehorned into the story by the crudest of means -- but the talk is consistently lively and thought-provoking, even as the topics range from Ann-Margret, to Ti-Grace Atkinson, to The Mamas and the Papas. "Haven't you ever heard of women's lib?" asks Penny of Mary Anne, who replies, "I don't know what they're after, but it isn't a man." Agnes, responding to Mary Anne's comment that her husband could be very charming, says, "That's one of the primary characteristics of abusive men." Hannah explains the difference between a political lesbian and a lesbian by way of sexual orientation, leading an exasperated Agnes to snap, "I know what a lesbian is." Hannah's admission that her favorite film is Bye Bye Birdie gets the biggest laugh of the night, when a bewildered Agnes says, "It doesn't seem very consistent with your principles." In truth, the flaws in Treem's script are minimized by Pam MacKinnon's direction, which draws fine performances from all and also keeps any hint of melodrama at bay. Jones makes Agnes the compelling center of attention, especially when she is forced to admit secrets that she has held closely for years. Kazan's Mary Anne is a teasingly slippery character, full of lies and calculations, yet never losing her hold on us; the scene in which, goaded by Agnes, she tells Penny the grisly details of her beating, is a small tour de force. Morgan Saylor effectively communicates Penny's crumbling certainty and her adolescent confusion. Patch Darragh is touching as Paul, a truly gentle soul who is still struggling with a busted marriage, who finds himself in way over his head with Mary Anne. And even if the role of Hannah seems more of a device than a real person, Cherise Boothe makes the most of her. Making no small contribution is Scott Pask's kitchen set, which has enough Craftsman-style touches to definitely locate the action in the Pacific Northwest. Russell H. Champa's lighting is filled with fine details, many of them tied to the time of day in which each scene unfolds. Jessica Pabst's costumes have just enough touches -- flared trousers, blouses with big lapels--to ensure we never forget the early '70s time frame. The sound by the designers known as Broken Chord provides fine reinforcement for their original music, plus a handful of sound effects. Treem was last heard of in 2007, with A Feminine Ending, a delightful comedy that promised big things. Since then, she has mostly toiled in television, most notably with the series In Treatment. When We Were Young and Unafraid isn't an elegant work but it is an imaginative one and she has done right by her leading ladies. Here's hoping she sticks around this time--David Barbour 
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