170. THE COMMONS OF PENSACOLA
The Bernie Madoff scandal has proved rich
pickings for writers in search of a juicily dramatic subject. A couple of years
ago the small screen witnessed a season of the Glenn Close series “Damages” based
on the story, with Lily Tomlin playing the wife of the Madoff-inspired
swindler, while, more recently, Woody Allen’s movie, Blue Jasmine, cast Alec
Baldwin as the crook and Cate Blanchett as his hard-hit spouse. This season
alone has seen two plays on the New York stage that would not exist without
Madoff, THE UNAVOIDABLE DISAPPEARANCE OF TOM DURNIN, starring David Morse as
the Madoff avatar; the play lacked a wife figure to interrogate about the questions
everybody still wants to ask: did Ruth Madoff know, or even suspect, that her spouse was scamming
his clients out of their life savings? Was she blindsided? And did Madoff stash money away for her
in case he was found out and sent away? “Damages” alluded to these
problems, and they are front and center in THE COMMONS OF PENSACOLA, the
engrossing new play at the Manhattan Theatre Club’s City Center Stage 1 that
introduces actress Amanda Peet to the front ranks of promising playwrights.
Blythe Danner and Sarah Jessica Parker. Photo: Joan Marcus.
Ms.
Peet’s play, of course, doesn’t use the Madoff name, and the family dynamics
are obviously not the same, but the situation is close enough to our fantasies
of what might have occurred once the bastard was caught and imprisoned to lend
what happens a veneer of truth. There surely will be other plays, movies, and TV
shows that will examine the dramaturgic possibilities present in the story,
but for now New Yorkers can spend an intermissionless hour and a half at a nicely turned dramedy
starring the vibrant Blythe Danner. Ms. Danner plays the 71-year-old Judith, a Mrs. Madoff-like character
(including her Jewishness) trying to stay out of the limelight by living in a
one-bedroom condo with an ocean view in Pensacola, Florida. Costarring is the fine Sarah Jessica Parker, portraying Becca, Judith’s
down-on-her-luck, actress daughter.
Michael Stahl-David and Sarah Jessica Parker. Photo: Joan Marcus.
The 43-year-old Becca arrives for Thanksgiving
at the condo with her 29-year-old boyfriend, Gabe (Michael Stahl-David), who
calls himself a “guerilla journalist.” Judith asks if that has something to do
with Jane Goodall, one of a number of such one-offs, including an Alzheimer's joke, intended to provide a comic undertone
for an ultimately dramatic piece about a onetime livewire and big spender reduced to living in a
small Pensacola retirement apartment. Neither this, nor her having a maid-assistant, is necessarily
within the financial restraints that have been put on her, and the play’s
revelation of just how she can afford these things becomes a major fulcrum for
what follows. Becca is there not only for the holiday: Gabe, we quickly learn, wants to make a “docu-series” about
Judith, which he explains to his skeptical would-be subject is not to be
confused with a reality show. I won’t say how she responds, but will note that
questions are raised about Gabe’s integrity. Complicating matters is the arrival for Thanksgiving of Lizzy (Zoe Levin), the beautiful
young daughter of Becca’s sister, Ali (Ali Marsh).
Judith, meanwhile, has so many ailments that Lorena (Nilaja Sun), the
Jamaican-accented maid, has to oversee her pill regimen (13 pills four times a day). When Judith faints and is hospitalized, her daughter, Ali, Lizzie's mother, flies down from New York but when it turns out that Judith is not in any danger (her Zanex caused her to faint), Ali begins to rage about having come for nothing on behalf of a mother she's sure knew all along what her husband was doing; angrily, she begins to
search for the money she's convinced is hidden somewhere. Fireworks soon explode as sister
confronts sister, and children face off against their mother. As the complications and revelations intensified, one lady down front couldn't resist saying, "Oy, oy, oy!" which drew a big laugh.
From the light
banter of the opening scenes to the dramatic confrontations of the later ones
is a gradual but theatrically satisfying journey. There is intelligent
dialogue, believable characters, reasonably credible exposition, a smattering
of scatological humor (farting, if you must know), some vividly rough language (Lizzie hates the word "vagina" and prefers "pussy"),
and thoughtful content about greed, accountability, truth, deception, integrity, and family
love. At one point Becca has a major ethical choice regarding a lot of money. I
suspect that post-play conversations will often ask “what would you do if
you were in her situation?”
Ms. Peet doesn’t always manage to fully justify the exits of her characters so that the stage can be occupied convincingly (and at length) by others whose dialogue must be kept private; this is a common difficulty in writing interior scenes using multiple characters with secrets but it has to be overcome so it seems less contrived. Also a bit forced is the tropical storm that cuts the power to the condo, leaving Gabe and Lizzie alone, and a sliding door that no one can open seems fraught with unnecessary symbolism. Finally, the closing scene seems inorganic and somewhat nebulous.
Ms. Peet doesn’t always manage to fully justify the exits of her characters so that the stage can be occupied convincingly (and at length) by others whose dialogue must be kept private; this is a common difficulty in writing interior scenes using multiple characters with secrets but it has to be overcome so it seems less contrived. Also a bit forced is the tropical storm that cuts the power to the condo, leaving Gabe and Lizzie alone, and a sliding door that no one can open seems fraught with unnecessary symbolism. Finally, the closing scene seems inorganic and somewhat nebulous.
The play is vigorously
performed, with Ms. Danner and Ms. Parker at their best. The still glamorous Ms.
Danner gets to play a woman with many colors, and she
brings humor, fire, and spice to her portrayal. Ms. Parker’s Becca is a
vulnerable creature who can be all charm and good spirits one moment, and the
next seriously conflicted and angry. Her svelte figure and trademark hairstyle
are intact, and, at the end, she wears a dress (designed by Tom Broecker) straight off the back of “Sex and the City’s” Carrie Bradshaw. But while the
characters look alike, there’s far more angst and desperation in Becca.
The
supporting cast is universally excellent and convincing, from Zoe Levin’s smut-mouthed
Lizzy, to Nilaja Sun’s smart-mouthed Lorena, to Michael Stahl-David’s veracity-challenged Gabe, to Ali Marsh’s defiantly suspicious Ali. They work skillfully under
Lynne Meadow’s always perceptive staging on Santo Loquasto’s thoroughly
lifelike replication of a sunbelt condo. Jill BC Du Boff offers smart music choices in the
scene shifts, and Jason Lyons’s lighting is just right, especially a transitional
sequence before the last scene that conveys the passing of time as the shadows
of the vertical blinds move slowly across the stage in keeping with the progress of
the sun.
There's nothing common about THE COMMONS OF
PENSACOLA. The next time I see Amanda Peet on the stage or screen, she’ll have
earned a new level of respect from many theatergoers, including me.
