Before getting married, couples should spend three hours at the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey in Madison.
If they remain committed to wedlock after Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? they are ready for the altar.
Edward Albee’s famous 1962 play plunges viewers into a marriage so toxic, the theater should hand out N95 masks.
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, directed by Nisi Sturgis and running through Sept. 27, 2026, is the eat-your-spinach program of the theatrical canon. It’s the dues one must pay for all the guilty pleasures — the mannerly comedies and slapstick howlers, the Enchanted Aprils and Gentleman’s Guides to Love and Murder.
There are laughs amidst Woolf’s carnage — the guilty kind you regret from old schoolyard taunts, or new memes you don’t dare repeat in polite company.
To be clear, there is nothing polite about the middle-aged George and Martha — not to be confused with the tender First Couple who bivouacked in Morristown during the Revolution — or the emotional savagery these two inflict on each other and on Honey and Nick, the young marrieds who innocently accept an invitation to stop by for a nightcap after a party.
They all belong to a small college community in New England. Martha is daughter of the school president; her sole ambition is pleasing daddy by one day becoming the wife of his successor.
She mercilessly blames her husband’s lack of ambition for thwarting that dream: George’s career has plateaued at associate professor of history. He seems happiest as the evening’s bartender, serving marriage on the rocks until his besotted guests, newly arrived from the midwest, reveal their secrets for his cruel sport.
Of course, the hosts have a little secret of their own. It’s not pretty.
The fondest exchange between this pair? Martha: “Well…you’re going bald.” George: “So are you.” Monster, cyclops, and pygmy-hunter pass for terms of endearment as they descend into a Dante-esque, three-act, two intermission maelstrom of boozy vituperation. George goads the handsome Nick, a rising biology instructor, into a game of “hump the hostess” while his delicate, devoted Honey is off heaving her brandy.
The crew for this production includes a fight director. It should add a psychotherapist, to ward off PTSD for the cast. (Scheduling opening night for a milestone anniversary of 9/11 may not have been the most inspired choice.) STNJ’s spring revival of Noël Coward’s Private Lives now seems like Disney fare by comparison.
(Side note: Supposedly, Albee’s play was to be titled Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? from Disney’s The Three Little Pigs, but the licensing royalties were too steep. So he got permission from author Virginia Woolf’s widower to use her name instead.)
Albee’s plays are famously ambiguous, and much has been written about the hidden meanings of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? A takedown of the institution of marriage? Or of status-conscious America? Demon alcohol, perhaps? A commentary on the dangers of clinging to our illusions? Might this be an arch ode to resiliency? Deep down — say, down to the earth’s hellish core — do George and Martha really love each other?
Whatever the interpretation, some of the biggest names of stage and screen have lined up to appear in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, winner of Tonys and Oscars. Liz & Dick…Uta Hagen and Arthur Hill…Mike Nichols and Elaine May…Patrick Stewart and Mercedes Ruehl…Bill Irwin and Kathleen Turner…and through December on London’s West End, Gillian Anderson and Billy Crudup.
STNJ’s cast is up to the challenge. Antoinette LaVecchia (The Rose Tattoo) is a volatile, vicious, domineering, complex Martha, capable of turning on a dime from raging lush to conniving seductress —inspiring fear and loathing while somehow suggesting the faintest glimmer of humanity and yearning.
Andrew Borba, former director of the Chautauqua Theater Company, plays George with the detachment of a designated driver. As he keeps pouring, Martha’s slings and arrows seem to bounce off him, and his archer’s aim strikes everyone with surgical precision. But his sadistic delight in tormenting Nick and Honey masks wounds of his own. You may not pity the character, but it’s a deft characterization.
Michael Underhill, making his debut at STNJ after an extensive regional career, is upright and straightforward as Nick, a reasonable fellow who does his best to navigate the minefield George and Martha have laid. They find his human flaws. Yet you hope that he and Honey still have a chance at avoiding their fate.
Maybe the toughest role is Honey. Abby Burris (Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth) must feign intoxication for much of the play. A lesser actress easily could lapse into cartoon territory. Burris gets laughs in the tipsy early going, but her pain is searing as a betrayal cuts through the haze.
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? may be Quantico for actors, the proving ground for their thespian chops and toughness.
That goes for audiences, too. If you’re really a “serious” theatre-goer, and not just someone seeking sugary entertainment, you need to check this box, along with Death of a Salesman, STNJ’s upcoming Hamlet and (gulp!) Titus Andronicus.
Eat your spinach.
The Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey presents Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? through Sept. 27, 2026. Tickets: $45-$85. Recommended for ages 15 and older. Run time: three hours, 15 minutes. In the F.M. Kirby Theatre on the campus of Drew University, 36 Madison Ave., Madison.
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