Arena’s ‘Little Foxes’ Is Laser-Focused

The Arena Stage production of the classic drama of greed “The Little Foxes,” running through Oct. 30 and directed by Kyle Donnelly as part of a two-play Lillian Hellman festival (“A Watch on the Rhine” will be mounted next spring), is a sharp, fine example of a well-crafted classic of a play. Staged by artists working on all cylinders with imagination and well-oiled efficiency, it nonetheless leaves room for a feeling of spontaneity.

In short, it’s a pleasure to watch — and to live in the world that’s been created onstage — for a matinee or a night out. Reputation-wise, “The Little Foxes” may not be “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” or “A Streetcar Named Desire,” but in the pantheon of 20th-century American playwrights, Hellman, who is almost as well known for her politics and personal memoirs, has carved out her own niche, especially in this play.

“Foxes” is longish, but it is laser-focused, constructed to last; it won’t fall apart at the slightest nudge. It’s about something and some things: the American South, the American class system, the worship of money (American-style), family and race, not to mention gender. It is at turns and at times smartly funny, cruel, even shocking. It has the value of sturdy memory and the ability to cast a shadow into the future, a reminder of the roots of our unsolved American issues and of truths that remain self-evident and modern.

Mostly, what it has are some terrific roles, performed with talent and power, notably the part of Regina Giddens, the cold, scheming, resplendent, nearly heartless woman at the heart of the play. Suffice it to say that Marg Helgenberger, the radiant redhead in primary-color gowns, is more than a match for the role. Best known for her starring television work in “CSI” and “China Beach,” Helgenberger gives the part a regal distance, hiding a just barely controlled fury that prods her to get what she sees as her just desserts, which is all the money. She displays the gifts — not just looks but keen, focused intelligence — that she deems as not having been appreciated by her male counterparts, including her equally conniving brothers and the good, honest man, her husband Horace, dying of heart disease.

This is the South circa 1900, a world where Jim Crow thrives without being named, where black servants are barely visible, where white middle-class types like the Hubbards scheme to buy and sell and rise above their not much betters, the fading members of the Southern aristocracy and former plantation owners.

This is not necessarily cutting-edge material, although it surely has a snarling bite to it. A midweek matinee audience, let’s say, still retains the ability to be shocked when Oscar Hubbard nonchalantly but with full intent smacks his frail and alcoholic wife Birdie.

Donnelly, an Arena veteran, paces the play perfectly — there don’t seem to be any wasted moments here — and she’s aided and abetted by the designers: the evocative sets of Mikiko Suzuki MacAdams, the splendid costumes by Jess Goldstein and the lighting design by local treasure Nancy Schertler, who evokes both time and emotion seamlessly.

The tricky thing about Regina is to somehow also feel for her. She’s a classic villainess doing horrible things, and Helgenberger, when she lets out Regina’s resentments — her husband’s adultery, her brothers disrespect and thievery — accomplishes that in controlled but icy fury.

Edward Gero gives a portrait of the modern hunter of money for its own sake, a kind of stylish, convincing Silas Marner, out in the open, suave and slick. James Whalen, dapper, suave, has a fine turn as William Marshall, a Northern businessman seeking to build a mill on Hubbard’s property. He’s the sophisticated type, eager to go after Regina, treating the brothers with a mild contempt.

While Regina is the sun, in some ways the role of Birdie is a kind of moon that gets noticed. Isabel Keating makes her memorable, shining with an embrace of the past and plantation days, drinking because of her abusive husband. Keating gives her musicality and a sweetness and every-now-and-then rebellious strength that’s hard to forget.

This production of “The Little Foxes” is engrossing, theater functioning at the highest level, catching the seriousness of a grandly entertaining play.