USC Embraces the Whimsy and Absurdity of High Society with "The Importance of Being Earnest"

Oscar Wilde's satirical commentary on Victorian manners still rings true.

Whimsical, ridiculous, and absurd aren’t exactly the words one uses to describe late-Victorian society in England, yet that’s exactly the tone that’s set in Oscar Wilde’s satire of rigid, mannered, British high society, The Importance of Being Earnest. His classic farce dates to 1895, about a decade and a half before the events of Downtown Abbey, but fans of the latter will instantly recognize the complex, layered world that is being lampooned and skewered by the author’s flowing prose and biting wit. Dustin Whitehead’s production, running through this Sunday, Nov. 16, in USC’s Longstreet Theatre is like finding a fully operational ship-in-a-bottle, perfectly preserved and ready to reveal every minute, juicy details about its daily operation.

{All photos by Jason Ayer}

If you encountered this work in high school or college literature class as one of those “important” pieces that were required reading, don’t worry. Earnest is no academic treatise that rails against the folly of the privileged upper class, nor is it some experiment in “absurdism” as surreal social commentary. The words may be 130 years old, but the laughs come as quickly and naturally as in any quirky Brit-com that holds a mirror up to the eccentricities of the British social class structure, and to the giddiness and impetuosity of young love. At the same time, the production is a master class in how to balance historical authenticity and detail with broad, abstract, minimalist production design, while sacrificing none of the thematic content.

At the center of a lot of mirth and madness that ultimately signifies nothing are Algernon (Dominic Delong-Rodgers) and Jack (De’on Turner), two swingin’ bachelors more concerned about maintaining their pristine reputations as posh, proper upper-crust socialites than being genuine, sincere or….well, earnest. Each has a secret, although Jack’s is perhaps more understandable: while raised amidst wealth and status, he was a foundling, an abandoned baby adopted by a benevolent older gentleman who left his entire estate to his heir, along with responsibility for the upbringing of a young granddaughter, Cecily (Meagan AuBuchon.) Ever dutiful, Jack lives as a sedate country squire while a governess (Didem Ruhi) cares for his “niece,” but sneaks away to London on weekends under the pretense of visiting a rakish, disreputable - and completely fictitious - younger brother whom he has dubbed “Ernest.” Yet his London social circle cronies - frivolous partiers like Algernon - know him as Ernest, a carefree rapscallion who is called away to tend to business matters in the country.

Why the pretense? That’s at the heart of the author’s satire: boys will be boys and men will be men, regardless of their place on the social ladder. While it’s never detailed, Jack’s bachelor life has surely involved drinking and eating too much, seeing naughty stage shows, gambling, and pursuing young women whose station in life renders them eligible for nothing beyond status as passing flings. Yet we see that he’s ready to grow up, as he prepares to ask for the hand of the ultra-prim and proper Gwendolyn (Elizabeth Wheless), Algernon’s aristocratic cousin, from her Gorgon-like mother, the blustery, imposing Lady Bracknell (Elaine Werren.)

Here’s the thing though - Algernon has been doing the same thing all along. Whenever he tires of his aunt’s staid society luncheons and the limits placed on his hedonistic lifestyle, Algernon proclaims that he must leave town to visit his ailing friend in the country, the equally fictitious Mr. Bunbury, and then revels and carouses freely, far away from anywhere that he is known. Thus while Jack longs for authenticity, Algernon the libertine perks up at the mention of a nubile young impressionable maiden, i.e. Cecily, all alone like Monty Python’s Zoot and her eight score young blonde and brunette peers, all between sixteen and nineteen and a half, cut off in an estate with no one to protect them. Sounds like time for a covert visit to Mr. Bunbury, and so the merriment begins.

It’s an ensemble show, with juicy characterizations for all six MFA acting students, but undergraduate AuBuchon more than holds her own as the effervescent Cecily. Algernon’s designs might seem destined to go down in flames were it not for Cecily’s giddy fascination with bad boys, especially the infamous “Ernest.” She and Wheless play off each other well, as instant BFF’s from similar backgrounds who find themselves at odds when both think they are rivals for the affections of the same (non-existent) man. It’s fascinating to watch their unspoken war of conflicting emotions, hardly ever raising their voices, but rather turning to subtler, more ladylike ways of retaliation, such as serving tea to the other with more sugar than desired.

“You have filled my tea with lumps of sugar, and though I asked most distinctly for bread and butter, you have given me cake. I am known for the gentleness of my disposition, and the extraordinary sweetness of my nature, but I warn you, Miss Cardew, you may go too far.”

That’s just a tiny indication of how formalized the manners are in this upper echelon of society. It’s absurd, it’s ridiculous, and of course it’s hilarious. Wilde’s gift for capturing the rhythms of this proper speech and then letting it run wild through a traditional mismatched lovers/mistaken identity plotline is why the play is still studied and praised in academia today, but also why the material is so accessible, so relevant, and so funny even today, 130 years later.

Werren has distinguished herself as both tragic and romantic heroine in previous USC productions, but here she finds her comfort zone, convincingly playing an intimidating matron via mannerisms and inflection more than make-up. Wheless plays young and winsome, although her actual physical resemblance to her castmate accentuates the mother-daughter connection, and suggests what Jack may be faced with, perhaps 25 years down the line. Didem Ruhi and Olan Domer flesh out supporting roles as Cecily’s governess and the local minister respectively, delving deeply into the comic mannerisms of their characters. The script implies a romantic connection between these two middle-aged authority figures, and plays with a number of not-so-unconscious slips of the tongue that leave one or both embarrassed; Whitehead has encouraged his actors to play this up for maximum comic effect, and so they do.

First among equals are Turner and Delong-Rodgers as protagonists Jack and Algernon. Turner is an actor with great range, and he mastered a Caribbean lilt in Intimate Apparel at Trustus a few years ago. Here he sometimes struggles with the crisp precision of the upper-crust British accent, and the intricacy of long compound-complex sentences filled with nonsensical, polysyllabic dialogue, but the actor more than makes up for it with energy and…well, earnestness. Delong-Rodgers, on the other hand, has similarly done a decent job as a mythological antagonist and a black market arms dealer, character roles for which he might not be the first actor to come to mind. Algernon, however, seems as if it’s a dream role he’s been preparing for throughout his career. Wilde’s luxurious prose and trenchant quips come fast and frequent in his delivery, and his embodiment of a loveable rogue is complete. “Algie” is conceited, unreliable, snobbish, self-centered, catty, and focused on momentary pleasure, whether it’s the seduction of young damsels or simply the consumption of cucumber sandwiches at teatime, and yet we root for him to succeed.

Wilde’s jokes and his mockery of melodramatic stage plots of his era - where love happens at first sight and minor characters miraculously hold the resolution to major plot points - are more than enough to carry the story, but director Whitehead, in collaboration with Scenic and Lighting Designer Victoria Rickards and Sound Designer Patrick Michael Kelly, has added some inventive blocking and business. There’s no need for the construction of steps leading to upper floors, terraces or balconies, for example, because Whitehead simply has his actors use the existing stairs of the Longstreet performance space. One naturally focuses on whichever actor is speaking, yet the silent expressions on other actors’ faces are priceless, such as the daggers sent from the eyes of Cecily and Gwendolyn towards each other at one point. Delong-Rodgers is perhaps the master here, conveying vast implications with a single raised eyebrow subtly directed at another character. We know that this is a comedy of manners full of posturing, and so at times characters self-consciously dither over which stance to assume, in order to project a certain attitude or emotion. A piano, specifically referred to in the script, is played by several characters, with a harsh ker-thunking of the keys at moments of surprise or conflict. At other times serene background music is heard… jarringly stopping to signify that some barrier has been crossed or rule broken. It’s all very clever, and serves to accentuate the concept that we’re seeing hyper-reality, exaggerated for our entertainment and enlightenment.

Rickards’ set supports this surreal environment. While budgetary constraints might have made this necessary, the designer has done an incredible job with materials and colors one might dig up from one’s garage. Simple, pedestal-like boxes decorated with multi-colored candystripe patterns serve as the furniture in Algernon’s posh flat, where assorted drinks and snacks are laid out. Fast forward to the next scene, and some of these boxes are placed on their sides, becoming benches in a quaint garden, while others have their tops removed, revealing them to be filled with stalky inflated balloons that represent the flowers and bushes of said garden. Other balloons fall from above, possibly representing leaves, petals, perhaps even bubbles or butterflies, but either way, we understand that we’re in the middle of pastoral bliss. A bold striped pattern decorates the stage floor, suggestive of a carnival-like atmosphere, which of course it is - a carnival of manners. (Interestingly, it’s also suggestive of the cover of my 7th grade yearbook, which was channeling the trippy hippie vibe of the early ‘70’s.)

And then there are the breathtaking costumes, by Madeline Rose Gibson; both she and Rickards are 2nd-year MFA design students, and Gibson’s bio indicates that she was probably still in high school six years ago, yet the attire worn here is as well-chosen and well-crafted as any I’ve seen anywhere. There are some great video interviews with Rickards here and Gibson here, and you’ll see what I mean below.

Whitehead’s thoughtful blocking allows each actor to move about the stage, which is so essential for audibility when doing theatre in the round. And with a few exceptions, the actors have the starchy British accents down pat. That said, on the preview night I attended, Delong-Rodgers was so deeply committed to his character that not every line was projected as it could have been, and as above, Turner had some enunciation issues - but so often those problems resolve themselves by the next performance. The cast by now will also have learned where and when the laughter will happen, ensuring that specific jokes and punch lines don’t get lost in the shuffle. And some are truly classic, such as Algernon’s trenchant observation that a widow’s hair has turned quite golden with grief.

If it all sounds rather trivial, we must remember that the author himself subtitled his play “A Trivial Comedy for Serious People.” To me, it’s striking that satirical barbs penned over a century ago still ring true and relevant, as when Lady Bracknell suggests never to speak disrespectfully of society. “Only people who can’t get into it do that.” Add to that the appeal of multiple love stories enacted by attractive young actors, and the fabulous visuals, and you’ve got a winner. Any student or connoisseur of comedy or literature should see this production. Students: there are four more performances, including a schedule-friendly Sunday matinee, with budget-friendly $5 tickets.

Teachers: leave those kids alone, but give them extra credit for seeing this production. Ticket info and details can be found at www.sc.edu/study/colleges_schools/artsandsciences/theatre_and_dance/theatre/about/theatre_news/2025/importanceofbeingearnest.php .

~ August Krickel