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The Family That Brays Together, Stays Together
That Face Theater review
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Worried about your E-trade portfolio (Thanks BP!) troubled times have you down or are you just feeling displaced since the Lost finale? Maybe you just want to feel better about yourself and your own crazy family. In that case, spend some time with the perpetually self pitying, booze soaked brood in Manhattan Theater Club Stage 1’s production of That Face by Polly Stenham, directed by Sarah Benson, now running through June 27.
These dipsomaniacal, dysfunctional folks make the Wingfields of Tennessee Williams’ Glass Menagerie seem like the Brady Bunch by comparison. Assuming your family portrait doesn’t include a sadistic sorority sister, a mother on a ten year bender, an older brother who’s chosen to keep mom company and occasionally borrow her floral robes and an absentee father who has to fly half way around the world to try and sort out the whole squalid situation, then you’re bound to leave the theater a bit relieved and maybe even a tad smug about how the folks back home may be a little odd, but they’re not this messed up.
While That Face attempts to be a powerful and darkly comic look at an affluent English family in “freefall” i.e. falling apart at the tattered seams and torn scenery, the bad behavior and ensuing self loathing quickly becomes more tiresome than a Celeb Rehab marathon with laughs that are awkward at best and almost too few to mention. The fact that mum may, or may not, be eating cat food is more funny-strange than funny-ha ha, though she does have a mean meow.
Somehow these emotionally overwrought exploits earned Miss Stenham a nomination for the Olivier award for Best New Play in London in 2009. The young playwright, she was 19 when the That Face first became a hit in 2007, shows much promise the script is in serious need of a third act, though to be honest, I was glad to get out when the getting was good.
That Face opens with teenage daughter Mia (Cristin Millioti) on the verge of being booted from boarding school for her part in the drugging and violent hazing of Alice (Maite Alina) her 13-year-old classmate. Dark, yes, but not even Tina Fey’s Mean Girls would find this funny. Next we meet Mia’s brother Henry (Christopher Abbott) a once promising student who has dropped out of school to try and care for his permanently hung over mother Martha (Laila Robins) who just wants to lay in bed with her son, drawing pictures and playing soldier games whilst resting up the evening’s debaucheries after which she promises to check into rehab.
It’s a creepy though apparently not altogether new routine, at least until Hugh (Victor Slezak) the much dreaded dad shows up to try and sort out what the Hell has been going on while he’s been tending to business and his new family in Japan. It’s no wonder Hugh moved halfway around the world to try the family thing again, since clearly the first attempt didn’t take. At this point the future for the characters and the audience looks as bleak as the shredded clothes and empty bottle strewn bedroom where much of the dark drama, I mean comedy occurs.
Try as one might, it’s almost impossible to feel sympathy for these questionable people who have gone out of their way to make their own disheveled bad and clearly deserve whatever consequences come their way. But after much shouting, hysterics and a little stream of nightgown peeing (don’t ask) the story wraps up in all too tidy bowl, err bow. The ending, inconclusive at best, does however bring a feeling of relief, that at last it’s time to goodbye to these awful people you never have to see or think about again, unless perhaps you need a post family reunion ego boost of your own.
On the plus side, congratulations are due to David Zinn for his imaginative, multifunctional stage design that includes the remains of what was once a pretty terrific apartment, at least before the housekeeper was placed on the permanent “Do Not Enter” list.. The performances are also quite good, especially Betty Gilpen as Izzy, Mia’s bratty, unrepentant partner in crime who brings some an impish energy and an ingénue presence to her time on stage. Lastly at least the audacious action is over in a manageable 90 minutes. After all, in Sam Sheppard’s hands, you’d be trapped in domestic Hell for at least another hour.
But be warned, there is no intermission, so be sure to get to the lobby bar in time for a pre show cocktail, ‘cause you’re sure going to need it, as well as an entertaining after show destination to put a smile back on that optimistic face you had at the beginning of the night.
And for that post-show pick me up, I recommend Plataforma Churrascaria on W. 49 St. featuring a relentless onslaught of all you can eat Brazilian grilled meats. Somehow a belly full of sizzling sirloin, pork and ribs just makes everything better and is cheaper than the therapy required if you spend too much time thinking about That Face you just saw. More caipirinhas please! For more information, please visit http://www.manhattantheatreclub.com/default.asp.