STAGE REVIEW : Object of Suit, ‘Independence’ Isn’t Worth the Fight

The battle for “Independence” was fought on two fronts last week.

Onstage at the Burbank Theatre, three grown daughters struggled to extricate themselves from their possessive mother’s grip, in the Los Angeles premiere of Lee Blessing’s play “Independence.”

Offstage, the producers of “Independence” went to court to stop a nearby unauthorized production of it--which would have opened one day earlier than their own.

As it turns out, the play is hardly worth the court costs.

Real-life daughters who are struggling with monstrous moms might disagree. Co-dependency therapy groups may find a worthwhile field trip in “Independence.” It illustrates some of the crafty strategies employed by domineering parents, and offers suggestions of how to respond. (Tickets would definitely not be an appropriate gift for Mother’s Day.)

But less clinically minded theatergoers will be struck by how obvious it all is. From the beginning, it’s clear that the mother (Marion Ross) is a problem who must be overcome. She doesn’t become much more than that during the course of the play. Ross has some fun with some of the mother’s more slyly insidious lines, but she doesn’t achieve any kind of tragic stature, despite a final image which looks as if that was what director Norman Cohen had in mind.

Lauren Tewes plays oldest daughter Kess, a 33-year-old literature professor, coincidentally a lesbian, who visits her home town of Independence, Iowa, to help her sisters deal with Mom. Someone refers to Kess as “stiff as a post,” and Tewes has that trait down pat, as well as the character’s few attempts to break out of that stiffness.

The middle daughter is the one whom Mom most depends on, and she blatantly announces: “That’s my life--I give to people.” In a scene involving a family heirloom, Rhona Blaker guides us through this character’s metamorphosis with a repertoire of wounded looks. But she and director Cohen handle the last scene so tentatively that it’s not clear what we’re supposed to get out of it.

As the sluttish youngest daughter, Alison Elliott delivers her retorts with an appropriately nasty edge. Perhaps because she seems so flip about everything, the late realization that she has a soft underbelly is the most affecting moment in the play. Too bad Blessing underwrote her response to the news of her sisters’ decisions to leave.

The realistic living room set was carefully designed by D Martyn Bookwalter, and the women were carefully dressed by Donna Barrier. It’s a careful play all around, with nary a surprising moment.

At 1100 W. Clark Ave., Burbank, Thursdays through Saturdays at 8 p.m., Sundays at 4 p.m., through June 4. $12.50-$15; (213) 466-1767.