Keller's grown son from a previous marriage, can quite make Gibson's somewhat contrived father-son clashes convincing.
Modine and Morrison both benefit, though neither Modine nor Tobias Segal, as James, Capt. In Act 2, after the Kellers have come to admire Annie's progress, scenes among them are staged with more intimacy, as if Whoriskey meant the distance to reflect the distance among the characters. Whoriskey clears the stage for Act 1 scenes such as Annie's arrival at a train station, but her decision to have the actors greatly separated from each other results in a lot of yelling, which flattens out the performances of Matthew Modine and Jennifer Morrison as Helen's parents. Further problems stem from Circle's long rectangle of a playing space. Ultimately, the energy dissipates without a proscenium to focus and contain it. What's more, the actors have to be cognizant of an audience at close quarters on all sides, which keeps flying food and plates too much at bay. The choice to have set designer Derek McLane's furniture raised and lowered by wires is not only visually cluttered and annoying it also means the chairs are fixed and can't be knocked over. If the famous fold-your-napkin scene isn't as violent here as it should be, it's not Pill and Breslin's fault. Though her Helen is not as compellingly feral as Duke's, she gives a thoughtful performance notable for its tantalizing hints at the restless intelligence locked away in Helen's mind. Film star Abigail Breslin is the production's raison d'être. It's nearly as moving to watch Pill's Annie attain her maturity as it is when Helen finally understands that the letters Annie has been spelling into her hand have meaning. The diminutive actor, utterly convincing as a 20-year-old, makes Annie's raw youth the gauge by which we can measure her character's journey into adulthood. Pill is more vulnerable than Bancroft, but that only puts Annie's eventual success in greater question. Fortunately, Whoriskey has mostly cast it well, particularly in choosing the immensely gifted Alison Pill to play Annie. The story of teacher Annie Sullivan unlocking the deaf-and-blind young Helen Keller from a world of darkness carries an elemental power that survives even director Kate Whoriskey's troubled staging. After seeing the show's first Broadway revival, I'm still not sure, but there's one thing I'd bet good money on: You should never stage "The Miracle Worker" in the round.
But I've never been sure if William Gibson wrote a great play or merely an expert telling of a great story. I subsequently discovered the fine 1962 film version, featuring the indelible performances of 1959 Broadway originals Anne Bancroft and Patty Duke. I've loved "The Miracle Worker" since I first encountered it in the late 1970s in a corking revival at the late, lamented Equity Library Theatre.
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