Things get heated in this mother and child reunion

D. H. Lawrence, the Victorian novelist who defied English mores with his provocative novela including Lady Chattery's Lover, The Rainbow and Women In Love, was nicknamed the "Priest of Love" by his admirers. The model for his strongest female characters was his German wife, Frieda Weekley, whom he swept away in 1912 from his own professor, Ernest Weekley.

Caught in the crossfire were the Weekleys' three children, two girls and a twelve year old son, Monty.

Gareth Saxe and Jane Alexander in A Moon to Dance By (photo by T. Charles Erickson)

A Moon To Dance By, Thom Thomas' new play at the George Street Playhouse now through December 14, brings a full-grown Monty to the D.H. Lawrence ranch in Taos, New Mexico to confront his mother about her earlier desertion.

This play is three characters confronting a painful family upheaval, one that leaves adult children still reeling. Frieda Lawrence is played by an earthy and flamboyant Jane Alexander. Frieda's beloved "Lorenzo" (her nickname for her lover and husband of two decades) has now been dead for four years and Monty is a priggish Englishman, who insists on wearing his tie too tight even in the New Mexico desert. Frieda's aim is too loosen the tie.
As Monty, Gareth Saxe plays a handsome but angry son who cannot enjoy New Mexico.

Taos is skillfully rendered with its sweeping sage brush, electrifying lightning storms, and beautifully lit night skies by the teamwork of Andrew David Ostrowski's lighting design, Steve Shapiro's sound design and scenic design by Stephanie Mayer-Staley. Original music by Simon Cummings, who adds a solo cello at the beginning of each act, textures the feeling of the West and loneliness.

Robert Cuccioli rounds out the cast playing Angelo Ravagli, Frieda's current lover -- the one almost hand-picked by her dying husband. He is a lovable buffoon who adds some light touches to a serious play. He also plays off of Jane Alexander, showing Frieda's strong sense of self and strength in handling dominating men. Alexander seems as if she could take on any man with one hand tied behind her back, pretty good for a woman who grew up during the Victorian era.

This meeting in the desert is based on Frieda's and Monty's letters and seems plausible. The play pivots on the theme of family and societal commitments versus what the individual's soul and heart desires. Ernest, we learn from both Frieda and Monty, despised his wife's desertion and tried to keep her separated from her beloved children. "How could you have left me," Monty keeps throwing at a Frieda, who seems to have Teflon coating -- his allegations bounce right off her although they do leave marks. The director Edwin Sherin does well by this play, creating a tension where the actors seem to dance across the desert stage, tossing the tension around, getting closer and flinging each other a little further.

Alexander brings Frieda Lawrence to life making us believe that yes, this woman could have been the muse and model for great literature with her passion for life whether it be the desert wind or an evening storm. She still hears her husband's voice, the dead one, urging her to live and to pass this torch to her son before it's too late for him.

In Alexander's capable hands, it's pretty clear why Frieda Lawrence could not stand to be married to Monty's stiff, rigid father who was always reprimanding her in front of his large formidable desk. In the same desk, in a hidden drawer, Monty finds that his father has saved  a photo of the young Frieda, the one he fell in love with.

The audience is visibly moved by the play that catches D.H. Lawrence's connection to love and sexual desire. It is Alexander's embodiment of Frieda, with her ample, physical presence, rich voice and hunger for the life she has chosen. The rest of us should only be so lucky. Saxe's Monty contributes transformation to the play, turning anger towards his mother to revelation about himself. This is one of the George Street Playhouse's strongest productions in recent years, not one to miss.