Playwright A.R. Gurney has made a career chronicling the waning traditions of upper-class WASPS. First there was the formality of the dining room and, in 1989’s Love Letters, he wrote of a lifelong relationship as seen through the dying art of correspondence.
He takes us back to a time — not that long ago — before e-mail or text messages, when people sat down, pen in hand, and wrote letters. That is the communication vehicle of choice for two quintessential Gurney characters of privilege, rebellious, artistic Melissa Gardner and uptight, rigid Andrew Makepeace Ladd III. And when they weren’t writing letters, they reached out to each other in thank-you notes, holiday greeting cards and other assorted missives.
If you can remember back that far, perhaps you recall a 1970 movie called Love Story, which starred Ryan O’Neal and Ali MacGraw as a similar preppie WASP and the blue-collar Italian girl who loved him. If Gurney’s play is something of a gimmick, so is the reunion casting of these two in a national tour of Love Letters that opened at the Broward Center in Fort Lauderdale this week.
Love Letters is an experiment in minimalist theater. It is consciously staged with its two actors stationary, seated at a table. And they read the play from notebooks, a scheme to attract busy, high-profile actors who do not have the time or inclination to rehearse or memorize the material. Yet the story remains affecting, despite these limitations.
Melissa and Andy meet in the second grade and begin a friendship that will last their whole lives, despite breaks in which they marry others and pauses when they refuse to answer their mail. There seems to be a romantic tension between them, but it is not consummated until late in their lives, when he is a much-married United States senator and she is a much-divorced alcoholic artist.
Although both in their 70s, O’Neal and MacGraw are still quite recognizable as their Love Story selves from 45 years ago. She remains attractive in a mature version of herself, with tightly pulled back, white-streaked hair and still-perfect skin. He is a somewhat larger version of himself, but manages to project a boyishness that belies his age.
They enter, cross to center stage, sit and don their reading glasses. Neither has much theater experience, but MacGraw had appeared in Love Letters twice before many years earlier. She is the more expressive reader, clearly comfortable with the material, while O’Neal is a bit of a stumbler, often breaking up sentences oddly, like the truant student who did not do his homework.
Still, they both radiate charm and star quality, although she seems too controlled for the mess that is Melissa and he is too casual for the patrician politician. Nevertheless, if you have always wanted to be in the same room with O’Neal and MacGraw — and isn’t that really what this tour is about? — you can scratch that off your bucket list this week at the Broward Center.
LOVE LETTERS, Broward Center, 201 S.W. Fifth Ave., Fort Lauderdale. Through Sunday. $30-$70. 954-462-0222.