The Rimers of Eldritch: Why Lanford Wilson’s Portrait of a Dying Town Still Stings

The Rimers of Eldritch: Why Lanford Wilson’s Portrait of a Dying Town Still Stings

Small towns have secrets. That is a cliché, honestly. But in the 1960s, Lanford Wilson took that tired trope and turned it into something jagged, confusing, and deeply uncomfortable with his play The Rimers of Eldritch. It isn't a "whodunit," though it revolves around a murder. It isn't a simple courtroom drama, even though a trial anchors the timeline.

It’s a ghost story where the ghosts are still breathing.

When you sit down to read or watch The Rimers of Eldritch, you’re immediately hit by the structure. Wilson doesn't do linear. He treats time like a shattered mirror. You see the pieces of Eldritch, Missouri—a decaying mining town with a population that has shrunk to almost nothing—scattered across the stage. One moment it’s spring; the next, it’s a frozen winter. The dialogue overlaps. Characters in different scenes speak at the same time, creating this haunting, rhythmic "rime" or frost that settles over the narrative.

What Actually Happens in Eldritch?

Basically, a man named Skelly Mannon is dead. He was the town "hermit," the guy everyone looked at with a mix of disgust and fear. Nelly Windrod shot him. The town sees her as a hero, a woman protecting a young girl, Eva, from a monster. But as the play progresses, you realize the "monster" might have been the only person in town with a shred of genuine humanity left.

It’s dark.

Eldritch is a place where the mines have closed and the soul has followed suit. The people who stayed behind are trapped by poverty, religious hypocrisy, and a desperate need to feel superior to someone. Wilson captures the mid-century American Middle West not as a pastoral dream, but as a claustrophobic pressure cooker. You’ve got the town gossips, the frustrated youth, and the elderly who cling to a morality they don't actually practice.

The play premiered Off-Off-Broadway at the La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club in 1966. Later, it moved to the Cherry Lane Theatre. It was a massive moment for the "Circle Rep" style of theater that Wilson helped pioneer—lyrical, gritty, and intensely focused on the ensemble.

The Problem With Truth in a Small Town

Nelly Windrod’s act of violence is the center of the storm. The town gathers to support her, but the testimony we hear is filtered through layers of bias. Eva, the young girl at the heart of the incident, is fragile. Her relationship with Skelly is complicated. Was he a predator? Or was he just a lonely man who saw a kindred spirit in a marginalized girl?

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Wilson doesn't give you an easy out.

He forces the audience to navigate the "truth" through a series of fragmented vignettes. Honestly, it’s frustrating. You want to point a finger and say, "There. That’s the villain." But in Eldritch, the villain is the collective silence. It’s the way the townspeople use their faith to justify their cruelty. The characters like Cora and Walter, who run the local cafe, try to find some semblance of connection, but they are constantly pulled back down by the gravity of the town’s decay.

Why the Structure of The Rimers of Eldritch Matters

If you’ve ever tried to read the script, you know it looks like a mess on the page. It’s choral. Wilson uses a technique called "thematic collage."

  • Scenes happen simultaneously.
  • Lines of dialogue from a trial in the future interrupt a conversation in the past.
  • The "Rimers"—the townspeople acting as a sort of Greek chorus—provide a backdrop of judgment.

This isn't just a gimmick. It mimics how gossip works. In a place like Eldritch, everyone’s business is everyone else’s, but no one actually knows anything. The overlapping voices create a sense of inevitable tragedy. You see the collision coming long before the characters do. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion, where the drivers are screaming but can’t hear each other over the sound of their own engines.

The Role of Skelly Mannon

Skelly is the "riming" element. He is the frost. He’s an outsider, a voyeur, and a victim. By making the town’s scapegoat the most complex character, Wilson exposes the rot in the "normal" people. The "upright" citizens are the ones who allow abuse to happen, who ignore the suffering of the poor, and who thrive on the excitement of a killing.

The play challenges the audience's perception of "good" and "evil." When the truth about what happened between Skelly, Eva, and the actual perpetrator (Preacher) comes out, it’s almost too late. The town has already made up its mind. They need Nelly to be a hero because if she’s a murderer, then they are all complicit in a lie.

Language and Lyrical Realism

Lanford Wilson is famous for his "lyrical realism." This means the characters talk like real people—stuttering, interrupting, using slang—but the overall effect is poetic. In The Rimers of Eldritch, this reaches a peak. The language is sparse. These aren't people who have the vocabulary to express their existential dread. They talk about the weather, the crops, and who was seen with whom.

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But underneath the mundane chatter is a deep well of sadness.

"The rimers" refers to the harvesters or the frost that kills the late crops. It’s an ending. The town is in its winter phase, and there is no spring coming. This play was written during a time of immense social change in America, yet Eldritch feels stuck in a stagnant pool. It’s a snapshot of the parts of the country that the 1960s "revolution" forgot.

Is it Still Relevant Today?

Absolutely. Maybe even more so.

We live in an era of echo chambers and "cancel culture"—though Wilson wouldn't have used those terms in '66. The way a community can decide on a narrative and stick to it, regardless of the facts, is exactly what happens in Eldritch. The play is a warning about the dangers of groupthink and the way we demonize "the other" to feel better about our own failings.

It’s also a masterclass in ensemble acting. There is no single "star." Every role, from the teenage Robert and Eva to the bitter Mary Windrod, is essential. If one piece of the clockwork is missing, the whole thing falls apart. This is why it remains a staple for university theater programs and small playhouses. It demands a level of synchronization and empathy from the cast that few other plays do.

When you're analyzing or producing this work, you have to look at the religious undertones. The town is saturated in a specific kind of judgmental Christianity. It’s a faith that prioritizes the appearance of sinlessness over actual grace. The "Preacher" character isn't just a man; he’s a symbol of the moral authority that has failed the town.

Then there’s the theme of trapped youth. Robert and Driver represent the two paths out of Eldritch: leaving or rotting. Their interactions with the girls in town are tinged with a desperate, sometimes violent, energy. They are trying to find something real in a place that is fundamentally fake.

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Putting Eldritch into Practice

If you are a student of drama or just a fan of mid-century American literature, there are ways to engage with this text that go beyond just reading it.

Watch for the overlaps. If you’re reading the script, pay attention to the stage directions regarding simultaneous speech. It’s meant to sound like a symphony of discord. Try to track one character's journey through the jumpy timeline. See if you can spot the exact moment the "official" story of Skelly’s death starts to override what actually happened.

Contextualize the Missouri setting. Wilson was from Missouri. He knew these towns. He knew the specific rhythm of the Ozarks and the way the land shapes the people. Researching the economic state of rural Missouri in the 1960s adds a layer of grit to the play’s atmosphere. The closing of the mines wasn't just a plot point; it was a death sentence for dozens of real-world communities.

Compare it to Wilson’s other work. If you like the mood here, look at The Hot l Baltimore or Fifth of July. You’ll see how Wilson evolved from this experimental, fragmented style into a more grounded (but still lyrical) realism. He never lost his interest in the marginalized or the "left behind."

The Rimers of Eldritch doesn't end with a neat resolution. There is no justice for Skelly. There is no sudden awakening for the townspeople. They just move on, the frost deepens, and the lies become the new truth. It’s a chilling, beautiful, and deeply human piece of theater that refuses to let the audience off the hook.

To truly understand the impact of the work, focus on the following steps:

  1. Analyze the "Choral" Sections: Read the overlapping dialogue aloud with a group. Note how the rhythm changes the meaning of individual lines.
  2. Map the Timeline: Create a visual map of the scenes. Since the play is non-linear, seeing the events in chronological order versus the performance order reveals how Wilson manipulates tension.
  3. Research the Circle Repertory Company: Understanding the ensemble-based origins of the play explains why no one character dominates the story.
  4. Evaluate the "Outsider" Trope: Compare Skelly Mannon to other literary "outsiders" in American Gothic literature, such as Boo Radley or the characters of Flannery O'Connor. This provides a broader literary context for Wilson's choices.

By looking past the "murder mystery" surface, you find a complex study of human cruelty and the fragile nature of truth. It's a play that demands you look at the frost before it melts away, revealing the hard, cold ground beneath.