Review: HOW I LEARNED TO DRIVE at Round House Theatre

What was it like 21 years ago when Paula Vogel's "How I Learned to Drive" premiered off-Broadway?

It was more shocking, maybe; probably more balanced with laughs; and perhaps challenging in presenting audiences with a story of ongoing, predatory pedophilia from a family member.

The D.C.-born playwright had developed it with another D.C. theater legend, the director Molly Smith, in Juneau and it went on to win the Pulitzer Prize.

Next month, Vogel, one of America's most heralded contemporary playwrights, will be represented both at Arena Stage, offering a regional premiere of her Tony-nominated "Indecent," and at 1st Stage with her "A Civil War Christmas." Her play "The Baltimore Waltz" comes to the Keegan Theatre in January. But the season starts with a revival of Vogel's "How I Learned to Drive" at Round House Theatre in Bethesda.

In some ways, it's perfectly suited there, recalling a Maryland "before the malls took over," when there were farmhouses and endless byways on which to learn driving, but also to forget one's problems; where historic Eastern Coastal inns are out-of-the way places to seduce a niece. And there are the expanses of parking lots at the Beltsville Agricultural Research Center where one could learn to drive - or meet a randy uncle once a week.

Alyssa Wilmoth Keegan is simply terrific in the central role, introducing the story as a wizened 34 year old, but easily tumbling back in time, transforming in innocence and a higher voice to her early- and pre-teens as the work requires.

Staging "How I Learned to Drive" in the #MeToo era, when after a year of revelation, reckoning and downfall of predatory men in the highest ranks of several fields - not to mention the continuing scandal of the Catholic Church - has made us by now nearly deadened to the shock.

There's a knowingness and pervasive dread that surrounds the play the way it might not have in 1997.

One thing for sure, there's no mistaking Peter O'Connor's Uncle Peck as the slimy villain from the moment he enters. Early reviewers complained that the character was too charming a pedophile, according to Round House dramaturg Gabrielle Hoyt.

That would never be the case here, with his oily and handsy uncle with his South Carolina drawl a major creep from the get-go, who only gets worse.

Some of what he says might have even gotten laughs at one time - and there are segments of "How I Learned to Drive," usually involving a family that was a little too fixated on body parts, that still got an odd guffaw on opening night 2018.

But for most part, the awful knowledge of today's headlines, along with the era's pervasive sexism and misogyny (compounded by a President who most recently called his pornstar ex-mistress horseface), only makes the dread more dense. It's hard to find what's funny.

If there's another aspect that dates the play, it's the reliance on heavy automotive metaphor - putting on the brakes, staying in the lane, putting it in reverse -- that sound as obvious as the illuminated highway white line that is about the only feature in Paige Hathaway's stark set (the bare back wall otherwise becomes a space for Jared Mezzocchi's projections of roads and time settings).

Leading the three-person "Greek chorus" who take up a number of roles, Emily Townley's considerable comic talents are tested in a segment on advice to young women drinking (that still feels a bit icky under the circumstances). Craig Wallace is a resident artist with considerable presence and power but still doesn't seem right for the roles he gets here - from racist white grandfather to nervous teen. For her part, Daven Ralston, the youngest of the three, gets to be grandma. (All three are barefoot and wear tunics by costumer Ivania Stack, owing to the Greek derivation of the chorus, I suppose).

The main action is between Keegan's unfortunately named Lil' Bit and O'Connor's Peck. And if there was ever any thought that she might have helped bring on her own fate by agreeing to her uncle's prodding or succumbing to her own neediness or confusion, that has been eliminated by time or Amber Paige McGinnis' direction.

For all that it has going for it, the solid production still qualifies as difficult watching that compounds more than illuminates our fraught times.

Running time: About 100 minutes, no intermission.

Photo credit: Alyssa Wilmots Keegan and Peter O'Connor in Round House's "How I Learned to Drive," directed by Amber Paige McGinnis. Photo by Lilly King.

"How I Learned to Drive" continues through Nov. 4 at Round House Theatre, 4545 East-West Highway, Bethesda. For tickets call 240-644-1100 or go online.