For a play that debuted in 1978, Lanford Wilson's Fifth of July is remarkable in how unremarkably a gay couple figures into an ensemble of otherwise straight characters. Ken and Jed are lovers, a matter-of-fact circumstance that pulls no particular attention in a group wrapped up in individual agendas. But those agendas do not add up to potent drama, at least not as rendered in Aurora Theatre's uneven production.
It's likely that the play itself has not weathered the years well, the freshness once found so appealing having dissipated into an intermittently compelling tale sprinkled with mild humor. What audiences may now feel is the most emotionally charged issue is whether or not Jed will get to keep his beloved garden.
That garden is located at the Talley family home in small-town Missouri where Ken, a tetchy Vietnam veteran maneuvering on artificial legs, and Jed, a horticulturist of saintly patience, make their home. Friends and family have gathered for a holiday reunion, and the action unfolds on a bleary morning after a boozy Independence Day party. As backstories are revealed, strains among family and friends begin to amp up into confrontations borne of old hurts and resentments.
Most of the characters are suffering hangovers from the previous evening's party, and some are suffering hangovers from the previous decade, when they idealistically bonded around anti-Vietnam War activities. "It was all a crock," says Ken's sister, June, who nevertheless tries to maintain that their efforts were still meaningful. The biggest question amid the 1960s survivors, including the now-married John and Gwen who were part of the happily angry protesters, is why the equally militant Ken let himself be drafted into the war.
The collisions of nostalgia and disillusionment can be intriguing, especially for the so-called children of the 60s, but the immediate relevance it had when the play was new has faded, leaving other matters to carry the dramatic weight. The antsy Ken wants to sell the old home, and the always-calculating John wants to buy it to build a recording studio for his wannabe-singer wife, who happens to be a copper heiress he's happy to keep distracted. Also on hand for the fun and game-playing are Ken's equanimous aunt Sally, a character featured in Wilson's Talley's Folly set in 1944, as well as his histrionically inclined teenage niece, and a guitar-strumming buddy who still maintains one foot in the stoned 60s.
Amid this ensemble cast of characters, Ken Talley is ultimately its center. Craig Marker, whose work I have previously enjoyed, doesn't feel at home in the role, and that lack of connection slackens all that is around it. But there are individually vibrant performances from Elizabeth Benedict as imperturbable Aunt Sally, Jennifer Le Blanc as Ken's sister of uneasy single motherhood, Oceana Ortiz as her incorrigibly emotive daughter, Nanci Zoppi as the wildly self-involved singing heiress, Harold Pierce as the goofily aging hippie, and Josh Schell as the hunky pillar of strength who is Ken's lover. Amid this group, John Girot comes off rather bland as the duplicitous would-be buyer of the Talley estate.
It's a big cast for the intimate Aurora stage that Tom Ross handles with skill mixed with missed opportunities. And perhaps the cast has yet to gel into a solid ensemble. As it is, this production of Fifth of July doesn't make a strong case for its future revival.
Fifth of July will run at Aurora Theatre through May 17. Tickets are $32-$50. Call (510) 843-4822 or go to auroratheatre.org.