"Shadowlands" shows man of faith shaken by love, then loss

There happen to be two plays on local mainstages about couples coping with death and dying. Edward Albee's "The Lady From Dubuque" is at Seattle Repertory Theatre. Village Theatre is presenting William Nicholson's "Shadowlands," in an elaborately visualized but otherwise restrained rendering, directed by Broadway veteran (and new Eastside resident) Martin Charnin.

The two dramas contrast strikingly in tone and style. Albee's take on the demise of an enraged young woman has a coolly acerbic, semi-absurdist temperature.

"Shadowlands," based on the real-life response of Oxford literary scholar and "Chronicles of Narnia" author C.S. Lewis to the illness and death of his new wife, Joy Gresham, is more straight forward and prone to sentimentality.

In its first major mounting here since ACT Theatre's excellent one a decade ago, Nicholson's play (inspired by Lewis' memoir, "A Grief Observed") is still affecting, even if somewhat over-produced and overly sedate.

The exploration of Christian faith in relation to the excruciating loss of a beloved is what distinguishes "Shadowlands" from the many fatal-cancer dramas of the 1980s.

The play opens with a lecture by middle-age C.S. Lewis (portrayed with tweedy authority and growing vulnerability by Dan Kremer). It's an eloquent yet glib talk on squaring the "love, pain and suffering" of human existence with the belief in God as a benevolent force.

Pain, contends Lewis, is God's "megaphone to rouse a deaf world." But it is one thing to intellectualize about enlightenment through suffering, quite another to endure it.

Lewis (who lost his mother when young) learns all about this after befriending Gresham (Shelly Burch), an American poet and Christian convert. Their relationship starts with intellectual bantering, moves up to platonic closeness, and, after Joy falls ill, blossoms into passionate devotion.

Nicholson fictionalized this true story somewhat (Gresham had two sons, not just little Douglas, the one depicted here in turn by young Haden Hutchinson and Sam Tacher).

But Lewis quotations are dotted through the steady procession of short scenes, which Charnin and scenic designer Matthew Smucker keep moving with the assist of a turntable.

More daunting (and distracting) is the main scenic element: a backdrop of massive, darkly textured panels. It's like a giant stone fortress, symbolism well-matched to the melting of Lewis' stony resolve and the fantastic worlds of the Narnia books. But it's too much, dwarfing the human-scaled story of unlikely romance between middle-age lovers.

Perfectly scaled, though, is the performance by Kremer, a classically honed actor we don't see enough of on local stages. His Lewis is a man of superior intellect and unfailing civility, who gradually discovers (and remedies) his emotional disengagement.

Clark Sandford and Mark Chamberlin also excel as Lewis's kind older brother and a witty (bordering on cruel) fellow don, respectively.

Burch, another Broadway vet (and Charnin's wife), has a lovely stage presence and grapples with the contradictions in the sketchier character of Joy. Rather than stress the more aggressive, manipulative aspects of this unusual woman, Burch smoothes down her rough edges to make her more likable -- but less interesting.

Still, her plight is a touching one that ironically brings Lewis to life. And in the misty world of "Shadowlands," that's the main point.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com