Were it not for its decidedly modern attitude toward a topic until recently couched in silence, audiences might be forgiven thinking that Pride Films and Plays had stumbled upon a lesser-known work by Eugene Scribe or Victorien Sardou, founders of the "well-made" school of drama in the 19th century, or perhaps a stage adaptation of an early 20th-century novel by Edith Wharton or Henry James. This impression is testimony to the expertise evidenced in Nancy Nyman and Heather McNama's replication of "vintage" literary conventions for their award-winning play (dubbed a "thriller" by the authors, but more reminiscent of a pioneering exercise in socially-conscious realism), Resolution. Our story opens in the sumptuous New York City apartment of Jack and Hannah Buchanan, a well-to-do African-American couple, admired in the community for their philanthropy and civic enterprises. On this New Year's Eve in 1892, the servants have been sent home with generous holiday bonuses, among them housekeeper Margaret O'Malley and her husband Harrison (who narrates our story). When the pay envelope is inadvertently left behind, Margaret returns later that night, intending to retrieve it undetected, only to discover that her employers—thinking themselves alone for the evening—have divested themselves of their disguises and are revealed to be, in fact, both women. History, myth and fiction are rife with examples of females adopting male attire in pursuit of the economic advantages conferred upon that gender, so Jacqueline/Jack Buchanan's masquerade is not outside the realm of possibility, nor is that of her finding a like-minded consort in Hannah. Also plausible is the affluence enjoyed by citizens of color in cosmopolitan urban centers during the Gilded Age. Cross-dressing and same-sex unions, however, were still regarded as dangerous perversions, punishable by imprisonment, under the law. To what lengths will the devoutly Catholic Margaret take her disapproval? Will she overlook what she has seen, or quietly tender her resignation, or surrender the distraught lovers to prosecution by the authorities? A director mistrusting playgoers' attention spans might have opted to present this material as camp melodrama, replete with DelSarte posturing and shrill vocals. While the progress of Nyman and McNama's narrative may strike us today as wordy and slow-paced—though actually running a mere 75 minutes—Diana Raiselis has done her homework, as has her cast (billed in gender-neutral period style), who deftly navigate their museum-accurate text with unwavering conviction to generate sympathy and suspense right up to the surprise twist concluding the steadfast lovers' adventures in the best classic tradition.
