An 8 year old girl has gone missing near a lake in a wooded area. A plumber by trade and self-appointed neighborhood guardian, Phil has collared troubled teen Jamie, and dragged him into a nearby deserted toolshed for questioning. Phil spotted Jamie near where the girl was last seen, but his suspicion of the young man stems more from their previous experience. To gain a clear upper hand, Phil takes the drastic step of tying Jamie to a chair in an effort to extract a confession. Hearing cries for help, erudite professor Ethan barges onto the scene and into the conversation.
Playwright Matt Williams uses this triad to explore how personal endangerment affects action in his new aptly titled work Fear. As events unfold, each one of these people holds onto a strong conviction that he is on the side of what is right, not only in regards to the current potential wrongdoing but in their world view. The three characters aren’t particularly original, but their relationships to one another is sophisticatedly developed. As new background information is revealed, alliances between the three shift, along with the loyalty of the audience. Williams’ experience in television comedy comes through in the heavy dose of explanation in the show’s opening moments. There are also occasional splashes of jokes that come on a little strong, though they each provide a pleasant moment to breathe between psychological stabs. As in life, everyone here is an unreliable narrator, with truth getting lost in perception and self defense.
The show literally starts with a bang as Ethan and Jamie struggle through the doorway letting it slam behind them. There are many other moments that beg us to lean forward. Director Tea Alagić keeps the pressure high by containing her characters in a small dusty and chaotic space designed by Andrew Boyce. D.M. Wood’s harsh lighting adds to the desired mood with Jane Shaw’s sound adding aural punctuation. All three actors are excellent, with Obi Abili’s Ethan particularly drawing us in with his tension-filled whispers. Enrico Colantoni gives Phil appropriate swagger tinged with a touch of menace as he vividly recalls episodes he has witnessed. Though we come to understand that Jamie is socially awkward and learning disabled, the potential for him to develop a fully sympathetic side is lost in Alexander Garfin’s jittery performance. This may be a weakness of his lines rather than his acting ability.
Enrico Colantoni, Alexander Garfin, and Obi Abili in Fear. Photo by Jeremy Daniel.
By settling for easily recognizable characters instead of digging deeper, Fear falls short of making a lasting impression But it does illustrate in shorthand how anyone is capable of becoming what they most loath in an attempt to save what they most love. Though the opportunity for lasting impact is blunted, these actors bring their A Game and keep us engaged throughout the play. This world premiere has a limited run through December 8 at the Lucille Lortel Theatre (121 Christopher Street.) Runtime is 80 minutes without intermission. Tickets are $65- $89 and can be purchased by visiting FearthePlay.com or by calling (866) 811-4111.
The Cake
The Cake is like one of those imperfectly filled jelly donuts: a few sweet spot surrounded by too much bland. At a time when we could use serious conversation and considered insight into the critical issues that divide us as a nation, this comedy by This Is Us producer Bekah Brunstetter offers too little that is satisfying. Though it concludes with some timid steps towards a “love is love is love” message, it gets there via worn out arguments on both sides of the issue of gay marriage.
Fans of That 70s Show may delight in seeing Debra Jo Rupp as Della, the owner of a sweet shop in Winston-Salem North Carolina (Brunstetter’s home town) about to find fame on a national baking show. Her opening monologue cleverly lays the groundwork for the rigid discipline Della applies to all areas of her life. Soon after, she is reunited with Jen, her deceased best friend’s daughter, who is in town preparing for her October wedding. Initially Della is thrilled when asked to provide the wedding cake. But when she discovers Jen’s intended is another bride, she clumsily rescinds the offer. Their ensuing awkward discussion leaves both Della and Jen rattled and searching for the roots of their beliefs and accompanying feelings of shame.
Director Lynne Meadows does her best with a space that is too wide for a story this intimate. Rupp is her usual perky self, delivering most of the better lines with comic flair. To some ears, Della will simply come across as a bigot (though a chirpy petite one) who uses someone else’s pleasure and pain to mend her own relationship. But there are moments when Della’s turmoil feels genuine. Rupp is most grounded in her scenes with Dan Daily, who has the most joyful character arc in the role of her domineering husband, Tim. (Daily also provides the voice of the appropriately oily George, the host of the American Baking Show who functions as Della’s conscience.)
Rupp and Angelson in The Cake. Photo by Joan Marcus.
The relationship of the lesbian couple is more problematic. Disappointingly, though the words are often there — particularly in Jen’s vivid and horrifying description of her heterosexual encounters — there is no palpable connection between the two actresses. The fresh-faced Genevieve Angelson brings a sweet restlessness to Jen as she is tossed between the realms of her conservative childhood and newly found freedom discovered in New York. As her betrothed, Marinda Anderson gives Macy some well-earned rough edges, though the script occasionally requires her to speechify. But as a couple, they never seem to click.
The overall look of the piece is spot-on. Scenic designer John Lee Beatty has chosen candy colors to surround his baker, with mint green and strawberry cream pink swirling through her shop and home. In contrast, the engaged couple is staying in the only earth toned room on the set. Wardrobe by costume designer Tom Broecker follows a similar scheme, with Jen alternating palates. Philip S. Rosenberg’s ’s lighting sharpens the intensity of Della’s inner dialogue and softens the conversations between lovers.
With The Cake, Ms. Brunstetter has tried to make the point that recent cultural shifts have occurred too quickly for some goodhearted people to catch up. The irony is that since the time the play was first produced, those same shifts have given rise to a slate of superior projects with bolder things to say. From our current cultural vantage point, this work is a disappointing use of Rupp’s comedic talent as well as a waste of several delectable-looking cakes.
The Cake is playing through March 31 at MTC at New York City Center – Stage I. Theater-goers under 30 qualify for special $35 tickets. Full priced tickets begin at $89 and can be purchased online at www.nycitycenter.org, by calling CityTix at 212-581-1212, or by visiting the New York City Center box office (131 West 55th Street).