The Hills of California by Jez Butterworth. Directed by Sam Mendes. Design by Rob Howell. Lighting design by Natasha Chivers. Composer, sound designer, and arranger Nick Powell. Choreography by Ellen Kane. Musical supervisor and arranger Candida Caldicot. Wigs, hair, and makeup design by Campbell Young Associates.
Cast: Helena Wilson, Ta'Rea Campbell, Richard Lumsden, Ophelia Lovibond, Nancy Allsop, Liam Bixby, Leanne Best, Richard Short, Bryan Dick, Laura Donnelly, Nicola Turner, Sophia Ally, Lara McDonnell, Max Roll, Ellyn Heald, David Wilson Barnes, and Cameron Scoggins.
Theater: Broadhurst Theatre
Tickets: Telecharge.com

Nicola Turner, Nancy Allsop, Lara McDonnell, Sophia Ally, Laura Donnelly, and Richard Lumsden Photo by Joan Marcus

What is a song? That is a question that comes up with some frequency over the course of the evening. For Veronica (Laura Donnelly, giving a riveting performance as a laser-focused, no-nonsense single mother of four daughters she is grooming for success in show business), a song is "somewhere you can live," a place with "no walls, no boundaries, no keys."

A lovely over-the-rainbow sort of dream to be sure, one that sustains the fiercely determined Veronica through the vicissitudes of life as she puts every ounce of her being into steering that dream into fruition. But dreams can turn into nightmares when they come face-to-face with reality, especially when there is no backup plan, the equivalent of sinking all your money into lottery tickets.

Therein sits the play's hoary plot device, of the aggressively pushy stage mother imposing her ambition on her children. "Sing out, Louise," you can almost hear her say. Yet what worked for Gypsy and for such psychologically noirish films as Mildred Pierce (starring Joan Crawford, who could have been a model for Veronica) also does the job of successfully driving and drawing us into the action of The Hills of California. Meanwhile, Mendes's focused direction and careful attention to details, coupled with splendid ensemble acting and impressive design elements (check out those rising-to-the-sky staircases) aid in no small way in making this a well-oiled and engaging production.

One key to the play's success is the smooth-as-silk toggling journey it takes across time, between the summer of 1976 and the spring of 1955. Throughout, Veronica is the linchpin connecting the two periods. This is true despite the fact that in the scenes set in 1976, her presence is only felt, as she lays dying in one of the upstairs rooms at the family-owned guesthouse on the outskirts of Blackpool in Lancashire, a working class community supplemented by a tourism trade owing to its locale on the Irish Sea. (Advisory: Those Lancashire accents are likely to take some getting used to, especially during some of the more rapid-fire conversations).

Leanne Best, Ophelia Lovibond, Helena Wilson, and Laura Donnelly Photo by Joan Marcus

Then, in a wink, the massive-seeming set spins away and we are no longer in 1976 but in 1955, in the kitchen/family room used as a gathering place by Veronica and all four of her daughters (Nicola Turner as young Jill, Sophia Ally as Young Ruby, Nancy Allsop as Young Gloria, and Lara McDonnell as Young Joan.) It is here that the sisters being rehearsed as a singing act modeled on the Andrews Sisters, several of whose songs they perform in whole or in part. The quartet of actresses are actually quite talented, along the lines of gifted amateurs. The thing is, Veronica intends, by dint of willpower, for them to become a breakthrough act at the Palladium, with fame and fortune to follow.

Interestingly enough, the sisters do not seem the least bit cowed by their mother, who, in addition to working with them, operates the guesthouse. It goes by the name of the Seaview, but in keeping with Veronica's ambitious if pipe-dream of an agenda, it lacks an actual view of the sea.

What happens to Veronica's dream? What extremes will she go to in order to bring it to fruition? Why has Joan disappeared and will she return in order to reunite with her sisters and make peace with their dying mother? Herein lie the melodramatic twists and turns to the play. But pushing past the shaggy storyline, The Hills of California is mostly a character study of a mother and her four daughters. True, there are some men in play as well, but they are lesser characters by any measure (disposable or despicable, and ultimately forgettable), but you are unlikely to forget Veronica and daughters Jill, Ruby, Gloria, and Joan. The latter, who eventually does show up, is played in a clever bit of metatheatre by Laura Donnelly. " Like mother, like daughter" never rang truer.