How I Learned to Drive

A woman with a white-trash past talks about being molested by her uncle. It sounds a bit precious, but what pushes Vogel's play beyond Dr. Phil moralism/voyeurism is the way she intelligently gives respect to (and sees the humor in) the relationship between L'il Bit (Hutchinson) and her uncle Peck (Stearns). As grown-up L'il Bit narrates her girlhood affair with Peck, Vogel resists pointing a finger at the victimizer and patting the head of the victimized. Peck genuinely cares for L'il Bit, who at once loves and resents her uncle, finds him attractive yet repellent. It's a rare, brave look at a sexually charged bond between a girl and a man.

Little of that complexity comes to light in Schwan-Rosenwald's over-careful production, which holds the relationship so gingerly that the eroticism—and thus the danger and honesty—slips through its fingers. Where Vogel calls for a light dance between her Lolita and Humbert Humbert, Schwan-Rosenwald steps heavily. Hutchinson communicates L'il Bit's sass but not her vulnerability; she's convincing when she dishes out back talk to her uncle, not when she kisses him. For Peck, the script calls for "an actor one might cast in the role of Atticus in To Kill a Mockingbird." Mild Stearns would more likely be cast as Boo Radley. When he teaches L'il Bit to drive, ushering her into adulthood, Stearns doesn't convey Peck's seductive authority or his quiet torment. In this distant treatment, it's as if, given the topic's sensitivity, the production holds its breath like an uncertain teenager learning how to drive.—Novid Parsi