In my own work as a critic, I have often been attacked for maintaining too high a standard, demanding far more than a group of students could ever possibly give. If I have been reserved in my praise of undergraduate theater, it was in preparation for a show that could transcend limitations across campus, a show so powerfully cohesive that it might just elevate Harvard out of the theatrical laughing stock of Boston area colleges. I found that show in The Great God Brown.

The product of an alliance between the Harvard-Radcliffe Drama Club (HRDC) and professional director Marcus Stern (of the American Repertory Theater), Eugene O’Neill’s masterpiece surges to life with a vibrancy that both fills Loeb Mainstage and captures the audience in its first moments. Two friends, Billy (nervous, conservative Cary P. McClelland ’02) and Dion (manic, disheveled Alexis G. Burgess ’01), are as different as can be, but they share one thing: their love for Margaret (a ravishing Emily S. Knapp ’03).

Margaret chooses Dion and, as years slide away from them, their passionate romance withers under the burden of his alcoholism and lack of artistic success. Knapp breathes life into the faithful housewife and struggling single mother, radiating what their relationship once had been and the hope she has for its recovery. Burgess’ Dion is a tempestuous and embittered failure as an artist, husband and father. His sparks of energy and enthusiasm throw the brokenness of Dion’s life into a sharp relief that makes his degeneration from love-struck youth to disillusioned middle-age beautifully tragic. Meanwhile, in a lifeless-yet-mathematically-correct architecture firm, Billy’s successful career takes off even as his life remains trapped in emotional stasis. McClelland’s nervous energy more than fills Billy’s cavernous office-space, spilling over and infecting the audience with amusement and empathy. When Margaret brings about the reunion of these former friends, the differences between them have become huge. Billy is a businessman, Dion is an artist. Dion has a drinking problem, Billy has an eating problem. Billy loves the children he does not have, Dion ignores his young daughter. They are united, however, by their persevering love for Margaret.

At first the blending and intertwining of their lives is a gradual process. However, when Dion wills his own life to his friend-turned-rival, a metaphysical shift allows Billy to simultaneously become both Billy and Dion. This is where McClelland truly shines. Stripping out of a fatsuit to don a black tanktop and a plaid flannel shirt, he slides effortlessly into the dual role. The poignancy of Billy’s love for Margaret, and her own rekindling of the love that could have been is heartrending. The tightrope walk between two very different lives soon becomes untenable, and Billy must relinquish one to continue the other.

When it becomes clear that Margaret will never love Billy, he decides to abandon his former life and remain as Dion. At the devastating conclusion, Margaret confesses to her “husband” that Billy has always made her uncomfortable and that there is something intrinsic in him that will always repel her. All of his adoration and sacrifice are swept away by a woman who can never return his love.

The set by Brooke M. Lampley ’02, Helen C. Estabrook ’02 and director Marcus Stern is, perhaps, the most elaborately designed and beautifully executed of any within recent memory. Unlike many student endeavors on the Mainstage, they make the space work for the production, rather than against it. From the opening montage on the pier to the apartment raising from the depths to the apparition of the seemingly-limitless office space, the stylized realism of the design concept challenges the technical abilities of students just as far as they can be successfully pushed. The transition and conflation of huge headshots of Billy and Dion is a brilliant but slightly overstated touch that aids the surreal transition of Billy into both Billy and Dion.

David G. Corlette’s lighting design heightens the sense of isolation among the characters, especially at subtle moments like Dion’s sleeping daughter (Jelena Pejkovic ’03) or Margaret abandoned in a corner far upstage while Dion dallies with his mistress (in a disappointingly brief appearance by the charming Kate A. Agresta ’02). Lighting shifts also add the little touches that provide some memorable visual effects, such as the television flickering to life in the living room or illuminating a pathetic, rejected Billy trapped inside a suspended telephone booth.

The most surprisingly effective design element comes from Anthony J. Gabriele’s ’03 sound design. I can’t think of a show that has incorporated so much music to so great an effect, alternatively moving the audience from spontaneous laughter to the brink of tears without a word spoken on stage. The range of style and genre within the selections prevent the era of the setting from being positively nailed down and lend to the timelessness of the production. Though the microphones (somewhat of a necessity when playing at so great a distance from the audience) cause occasional difficulties for the performers, the flexibility in vocal ranges and volume which they allow more than compensate for their drawbacks.