If Frank Langella were a British actor, he’d be a Lord by now. There’s no one who’s better, both at comedy and tragedy. In The Father, he gets a chance to nimbly jump from one to the other, and the result is a production that will sear your soul. Andre (Langella) is a dapper older gentleman who lives happily by himself in his much loved Paris flat. His annoying daughter Anne (Kathryn Erbe) drops by on a regular basis to bring him bags of food. Andre’s apartment is old-time plush. The walls are an opulent forest green, and the sturdy bookcase is chocked full of bound copies of the classics. He sits, all in gray, in a gray chair, and tolerates Anne’s presence. We soon learn that he considers her none too bright and yearns for his younger daughter, Elise, “the one I love.” His constant putdowns are a minor flaw in this play; we are never given a reason why Anne cares so desperately about this verbally abusive dad whom, she confesses, she feared as a child. While Anne deems her dad is “eccentric,” the truth is that he’s a petty tyrant. It’s impossible to keep an aide to look after him. He insults them, accuses them of theft, and drives them away in tears. Anne is at her wit’s end. She’s unable to care for him, as he increasingly grows more unmanageable. When pretty young Laura (Hannah Cabell) comes in, sure that she can manage the old geezer, we see a totally different side of Andre. It turns out he can be charming; he not only flatters Laura, he also pays attention to her, and seems interested in hearing what she has to say. At one point in the conversation, he regales her with the news that he used to be a tap dancer, and performs a very acceptable soft shoe. He then reverts to form, and derides Laura for her inane laughter. Andre is constantly losing his watch. He’s sure that someone is stealing it, a common delusion for those suffering from dementia. He requires it desperately because “I need to know exactly where I am during the day.” His grip on what’s actually going on around him is tenuous. Reality keeps on shifting. At times, Anne appears as another woman (Kathleen McNenny) altogether. Andre is in denial that anything’s wrong with him; he chides Anne about losing her memory, and explains to Pierre (Brian Avers) that she’s not too bright. But wait- who is Pierre? Andre doesn’t recognize him; then, he’s not sure if he’s Anne’s husband, her ex-husband, her boyfriend . . .When Anne tells him she’s been divorced for years and is moving to London to be with the man she loves, events get even more muddled. Is this even Andre’s flat, or is he living with, or being invited to live with, his daughter? He jokes “the shadows are closing in,” but in fact, they have long descended upon him. Pierre keeps changing into another, more ominous man (Charles Borland) who bullies and even strikes him. Both versions of Anne’s amour ask him the same question, in a badly translated insulting phrase. Chicken dinner is being served — or have they all just eaten? The flat, by scenic designer Scott Pask, keeps changing. The number of books diminishes, the pictures are gone, and suddenly, there’s a huge plant in the corner. What’s happened to all the furniture? While nattily attired in the first scene, Andre is wearing his gray pajamas, courtesy of costume designer Catherine Zuber, throughout the rest of the drama. Director Doug Hughes skillfully drives what could be an overly talky play; there’s not a better man to have at the helm. But his use of flashing light to indicate scene change is distracting. Kudos for casting as the bully an actor who towers over his leading man, who is well over six feet tall. The entire cast shines, with Kathryn Erbe a standout for her quietly agonized daughter who’s faced with an unbearable decision. As for three-time Tony award winner Frank Langella, with his impeccable timing, he never misses a laugh. With white goatee and wearing a becoming casual outfit at the beginning of the production, he’s still matinee idol appealing. It’s an immense pleasure to listen to an actor with perfect diction; every other thespian, take heed. And when he crumples into a bewildered and bereft child, only the most hard-hearted will sit dry eyed. The Father, which was lauded in productions in France and England, puts front and center a dilemma which exists within many modern families. What should happen with our elderly loved ones, especially if they become beyond our ability to care for them? By all means, break open the piggybank for tickets to Hamilton. But don’t neglect the smaller productions without all the hype. There’s nothing on the boards this season that’s worth seeing more than The Father, for three good reasons: Langella, Langella, Langella.
