STAGE REVIEW : ‘Traverse’ Fine 18th-Century British Farce

Timberlake Wertenbaker. Remember the name.

It’s a name, of course, that’s hard to forget. On the evidence of her play “The Grace of Mary Traverse,” Wertenbaker seems determined to write theater that’s equally indelible.

Wertenbaker is on an upward trajectory in England: Her “Love of Nightingale” is now at the Royal Shakespeare Company’s home in Stratford, and “Our Country’s Good” is playing the Royal Court. But this L.A. Theatre Works production at the new Santa Monica Museum of Art is the American-born playwright’s U.S. debut.

It’s a debut that’s oddly charming and inconclusive and makes one want to know more about what makes this writer tick. It is also firm evidence that the most interesting plays aren’t always the most refined, but the ones with ambition.

“Mary Traverse” becomes nearly swallowed up in its own ambition to penetrate the souls that filled 18th-Century England. What is so puzzling--and intriguingly rich--about the journey is how Wertenbaker begins things with the touch of a giddy concertmaster. See Mary, cloistered and spoiled by her wealthy-beyond-measure father, striving for that ultimate state of upper-class female grace: to be seen and not heard.

The teasing problem is that Giles Traverse (Ian Abercrombie) has also created an inquisitive daughter, and the more she hears of the outside world (mostly from her maidservant, Mrs. Temptwell), the more she wants to see it.

So, in the best-fused traditions of Restoration comedy and picaresque adventure, Wertenbaker’s heroine ventures outside--never to return again, as Temptwell warns. We understand why Harriet Harris’ Mary doesn’t mind. She gives every effort to contain herself, but she’s too big for the manor.

The next problem--the insoluble one--is that Mary finds only small people. The smallest of them, such as Lord Gordon (Ken Danziger), feel so ignored that they foment the worst disasters. The big ones, such as Mr. Manners (Dalton Cathey), or Temptwell, are evil geniuses.

Mary is out for knowledge through experience, following philosopher John Locke’s ideal. But, as Oscar Wilde said, experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes. Mary finds that what gives pleasure (some funny business with the frontally naked Tony Maggio as--ahem--Mr. Hardlong) also gives diseases and babies. Then she gets wind of all this talk of liberty for all.

Putting it into action is another thing. As Manners observes as the London mob goes wild, “If you want to chop wood, you must expect the chips to fly.” (Much of Wertenbaker’s dialogue is suitable for Bartlett’s Quotations.) Evil or not, Mary learns another lesson.

Perhaps, though, “The Grace of Mary Traverse” is too educative for its own good. The second-act burst of working-class revolution feels like a rude intrusion from some other play, or the desire of a playwright to put a novel on stage. Imagine Congreve enjambed with Zola, and you get some idea.

When this is a comedy of behavior that resorts to presentational directness, declarative language and the occasional breaking of the fourth wall, it achieves brilliant precision and classic proportion. Wertenbaker is interested, really, not in what informs experience, but what kind of fools we make ourselves into. John Locke, roll over.

It’s a long journey, and even with a sharp cast directed by Peggy Shannon, the production’s loss of its initially light rhythmic pulse makes it feel longer. Abercrombie, whether in Giles’ white wig or Lord Exrake’s red one, does everything in spurts of comedy that always surprise. Harris is constantly surprising, though sending off signs suggesting a Mary older than her years. Joan Hotchkis’ Temptwell never becomes too sinister for the work, but lets the darkness grow.

Danziger and Cathey are diamond cutters with the lines and Maria Hayden gives Sophie, the tale’s street waif, wrinkles and shadows you won’t see in “Les Miserables’ ” lost women. Maggio takes an impressive stretch as Hardlong and Jack, a man who’s read his Rousseau.

In a space that recalls that wonderful Santa Monica dance/performance arena The House, J. Kent Inasy, Ken Booth and Thomas Buderwitz have designed a suggestive set with plain lumber, and Inasy’s, Booth’s and Bob Heller’s light schemes recall portraiture. Considering the period, costumer Abra Flores dressed down the portrait subjects--a relief to the eye, since our ears are working overtime.

At 2437 Main St., Santa Monica, on Wednesdays through Sundays at 8 p.m., with an extra performance Tuesday, Nov. 22. No performance Thanksgiving Day. Until Dec. 4. Tickets: $15; (213) 827-0808.