Grendel's Mother's Daughter

By NAOMI SEGAL

Published April 17, 2005

Madison, NJ –

DANA BENNINGFIELD is an actress of such skill and charm, she seduces her audience into believing right from the start of “Song of Grendelyn” that this new work by Russell Davis, here at Playwrights Theater, will ultimately wow us with its originality and craft.

As Hannah, a writer of children's books giving a lecture and reading at her local library, Ms. Benningfield creates a strong sense of intimacy almost before a word is spoken. Her quirky opening monologue, a bubbling stream of consciousness, makes us want to know more about this questing single mother. What, in Hannah's past, has brought her to this point of enlightened independence and self-possession? What happened to her former husband – the free-spirited banjo player – who became a fundamentalist in his later years, and whose picture, boots and jacket remain enshrined in her bedroom?

Before Hannah can tell us “my daughter Siggy knows how to be alone,” (and, wouldn't you know, 11-year-old Siggy, played by the remarkable Rebecca Ellis, is not alone, but being terrorized at home by an unexpected houseguest), we discover that the

Jerry Dalia 
Carol Todd, left, 
and Rebecca Ellis 
in “The Song of Grendelyn”

play's reach exceeds its grasp. With all of its pretentious moralizing against popular culture and the cult of personality, its questioning of the public's herd mentality, its extended commentaries on the process of writing, the play is really not much more than a feel-good redemptive tale that quivers with gothic horror.

In Melinda Avery, a rock star who has returned to her hometown for a concert, “Grendelyn” finds its “beast ready to pounce.” Unknown to Hannah, Melinda, her childhood friend played with ferocity by a gravel-voiced Carol Todd, has appeared, unannounced and drunk, at Hannah's home. She is now sprawled on Hannah's bed at the center of her sun-filled country bedroom. (Richard Turick has designed the lovely setting, with lighting by Jeff Greenberg.)

Siggy is simultaneously repulsed and attracted by Melinda. She proceeds to read aloud from her mother's book in an attempt to oust the sleeping woman from the room. Melinda awakens like a wounded bear. As violence quickly escalates between the two, Siggy remains determined not to let Melinda's “beast” eclipse her humanity. (Why this precocious little stoic doesn't just call the police remains a mystery.)

“You're not a monster,” the near saintly Siggy insists in the midst of a nasty exchange. “You're just pretending. Deep down, you're just a little girl.”

Segue back to Hannah. We learn from one of her monologues that her childhood friend (Melinda) had a minister father who used to roam the house at night hunting for crocodiles, and that the girl's wheelchair-bound mother would accuse her daughter of lying when she reported his actions.

“What do you know about your father?” Melinda taunts her young would-be healer.

John Pietrowski has directed this over-stuffed, overblown exercise with every stop open. His three fine players each give their all, with Ms. Todd's torrent of tears in the final act risking an onstage flood.

“The Song of Grendelyn” is at Playwrights Theater, 33 Green Village Road, Madison , through April 24. Information: (973) 514-1787 or at www.ptnj.org .