Better to call this production “The Heidi Cartoons.” Its unlucky 13 scenes even get introduced by projected montages intended to characterize women navigating the 1960s,’70s,’80s. They’re more like Saturday newspaper pages of political funnies or collections of feminine “Zits” strips.
In Asolo Rep’s exploration of the American character, The Heidi Chronicles has its heroine explore whether women can “have it all.” That means achieving happiness in love (romantic and familiar) along with personal and professional status. With the partial exception of best friend Susan, Heidi’s friends settle for less.
Elizabeth King-Hall does her best to make Heidi seem real, even admirable in her struggle to be a successful art historian but not just for fame and gain. She’s bent more on making famous the achievements of female artists in the face of obstacles she’d like removed now.
King-Hall succeeds, like Heidi, in not being defined by changing fashions or stridency. Unfortunately, from the start, Heidi takes for granted her own life of achievement (attendance at and getting positions at the most prestigious schools, winning awards and further study opportunities, not being betrayed by so-called friends) that would not have been attainable or at least not to such a degree to equally talented and hard-working women earlier. It isn’t until close to the end that her portrayer accords Heidi the slightest bit of humility or hint of her strength amid the weak results she feels in her personal struggles.
The only genuine relationship with a woman that Heidi seems to sustain through the years is with Susan. Maybe that’s because she’s the only one who goes on with her development of self and career and actively changes (nicely shown by Gail Rastorfer), though why isn’t clear.
Heidi’s other gal pals just illustrate generational stereotypes. Depictions of their radical political marches and sloganeering are particularly over the top.
Though she’s a declared feminist, Heidi’s main emotional attachments here are to men. One, Peter Patrone, is supposed to be charming. though likeable; Brian Sills doesn’t quite pull that off. Even being gay doesn’t explain his being -- as opposed to his early dialogue with Heidi -- so very sexually indifferent to her. Or maybe I should say to Heidi’s sexuality. (He’s another hard-to-believe character for the early ‘60s: after matriculation in an Ivy League U. -- a successful Italian-American pediatrician from Winnetka, IL! But that’s the author’s fault.)
Zachary Fine is an enigmatic Scoop Rosenbaum to whom Heidi is sexually attracted. It’s understandable that she wouldn’t commit to him, since he’s not just unfaithful but promiscuous. And Fine isn’t very attractive either.
Probably the most distinctive feature of Asolo Rep’s production is not the chronicling of Heidi shaping her life but rather of the clothing, make-up, and hair styles of the eras covered by the action. The majority of characters here appear to have gotten lost in these facets of their appearance.
