In Double Solitaire, a play that many critics believe to be his best, or at least his best since Tea and Sympathy, Robert Anderson makes his most trenchant and personal statement on marriage. The play centers on Charley and Barbara Potter, who must decide whether or not to renew their marriage vows on their twenty-fifth anniversary, as Charley's parents, Ernest and Elizabeth Potter, had done twenty-five years before. (pp. 93-4)

The question that informs the entire play is: Will Barbara and Charley stay together or separate? In essence, this is what their decision to renew or not renew their vows would mean. The deeper question raised is: What kind of an institution is marriage? Is it good or bad inherently? Is it good for some but not for others, and, if it can be good, does its goodness last? (p. 94)

Despite their admitted incompatibilities, both Potters wish that their son and daughter-in-law would stay together. They feel that one must work to maintain a marriage, often in the face of unsatisfactory conditions. They feel that reaffirming their vows helped them twenty-five years ago and that their son and his wife could also gain comfort from such a cementing ritual.

After [the Potters'] parallel advice-giving process, there is another monologue, by Barbara's friend Sylvia, and then a series of dialogues (including some long, nervous speeches) until the end of the play. (p. 95)

While the play explores the conflict between Barbara and Charley, its scope is larger; it ultimately succeeds in putting all marriages on trial. In so doing, the play makes one of the most tortured, honest, and sensitive explorations of marriage in American theatre. It is in terms of this fundamental exploration, this examination of the inherent and ultimate value of marriage, that Sylvia's timeless and almost placeless appearance makes its special, and especially subtle, aesthetic contribution. (pp. 96-7)

[The] play leaves many questions unresolved; most importantly, we are left to ponder its central dramatic question: will or should Barbara and Charley stay together? In a "well-made play," we would be directed toward an answer. However, Anderson elects not to wrap things up so tidily. Instead, he provides us with a thorough exploration of "a marriage on the rocks" and some very trenchant criticism of the marriage institution itself. Rarely has any writer written so sincerely, so personally, and yet so dispassionately of portions of human experience that are usually hidden away and left unexplored. By doing this, he confronts pain. (pp. 103-04)

Whether the term "well-made play" is a useful critical conception or merely a misleading and exclusivist tag is a moot point…. [But] we must surely exclude Robert Anderson's Double Solitaire from this category. Anderson's play is not mechanical; rationalistic; grounded simply in logic; bound by cause and effect; unidimensional; or beset by the sometimes tortured, artificial devices of playwrights intent on "well-made" works with clear, simple conclusions. Rather, it is a sensitive, multidimensional, episodic, detailed exploration of marriage as a highly troubled institution clung to by very vulnerable individuals. It is honest and direct, and it uses many experimental devices to move itself along. (p. 104)