"Not Just Another Day at the Office"
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| Stars range from 5-1. |
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| From left: Jennifer Kim, Catherine Combs, Kyle Beltran. Photo: Carol Rosegg. |
In the first act of this two-act, two-hour play, set
several years ago, we’re in an office (designed by Takeshi Kata) with four
cubicles surrounded by inner offices faced with frosted glass. The editorial assistants,
all in their late 20s, are the hungover Dean (Ryan Spahn),
a white guy; the self-absorbed Kendra (Jennifer Kim), an Asian woman; and the
enthusiastic Ani (Catherine Combs), a white woman (or “anything really,”
according to the script). Working alongside them is a young black intern, Miles
(Kyle Beltran), earbuds in place, whom the others use mainly as a gofer, but
who’s cool with his place in the scheme of things, especially as his internship is nearly up.
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| From left: Ryan Spahn, Jennifer Kim, Catherine Combs. Photo: Carol Rosegg. |
The magazine is unnamed but the most likely
inspiration is The New Yorker, where
Mr. Jacobs-Jenkins once worked. This is a play, not a slice of life, so one
needn’t be concerned that no weekly magazine could ever survive with such a
bunch of nonstop schmoozers filling their working hours with petty chin wagging,
shopping excursions, late arrivals, and Starbucks runs for skim macchiatos with
extra foam. While the environment gives the playwright a motive for sounding
off on the state of modern magazine publishing, anyone who’s ever worked in a
cubicle office, whatever its business, will recognize the kind of atmosphere that
can make going to work only slightly more desirable than sticking one’s head in
the oven.
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| Jennifer Kim, Ryan Spahn, Catherine Combs. Photo: Carol Rosegg. |
We meet two other people here, and are aware of a
third. One’s a harried, 37-year-old fact checker named Lorin (Michael Crane),
who works down the hall, is depressed about his career, and keeps showing up to
beg the others to pipe down; his office is desperately trying to polish a
last-minute profile about a famous pop singer, Sarah Tweed, who just died. (Jennifer,
the sourest apple, considers the young staffer asked to write the profile
inferior, which arouses a barrage of jealous bitterness so nasty she should
have a license to carry a loaded mouth.) The other person introduced is the editor
Gloria (Jeanine Serralles), “the office freak,” a disoriented misery who gave an
“awful” housewarming party the night before that nobody in the group except Dean
had the decency to attend. Unseen is a female editor named Nan, who’s in her
office not feeling very well.
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| Catherine Combs, Jeanine Serralles. Photo: Carol Rosegg. |
The act is entirely devoted to exposing the work
rituals, petty wrangling, and publishing aspirations of the workers. Beyond
what they say about their work and each other, the characters are mostly stick
figures about whom we learn very little. Still, we’re engaged in their little
world of gossipy small talk until—flash, bam, alakazam—something BAD happens
and the play moves into different and much darker territory.
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| Catherine Combs, Michael Crane. Photo: Carol Rosegg. |
Act two, practically two acts in itself, first takes
us to a Starbucks, eight months later, to deal with the aftermath to the bad
thing, including the revelation that Dean and Jennifer are writing books about
it. This leads to a confrontation about what each might write about the other
and culminates in Dean lashing out. In a bit of unconvincing coincidentalism, Nan
(Ms. Serralles) shows up as well, eight months pregnant and in the company of Sasha
(Ms. Combs), an editor from another publication, who talks her into writing a
book of her own, even though she didn’t actually witness the incident itself. By
the time the scene ends, Nan’s come so far she’s able to ask: “What do you
think I can get?”
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| Ryan Spahn, Jennifer Kim. Photo: Carol Rosegg. |
When, after several minutes, the curtain reopens,
several years have passed and we’re in a television production company’s
offices in LA (the act one set with minor changes). Lorin, who’s left New York
and has just gotten a job here as a temp, encounters Nan, there to see her successful
book made into a film. His recollection of the office incident, which he
witnessed, differs from hers, since she was hiding in her office when it
transpired. Mr. Crane’s drawn-out syllables as he registers his stunned
responses are priceless.
In his script, Mr. Jacobs-Jenkins introduces certain characters
in act two by saying he or she “looks a lot like” some character already
introduced. This allows for double and triple casting that may help keep the
show’s budget in line, and also make a metatheatrical point about the
interchangeability of personality, but it’s nonetheless a distraction, like the
phony ice cubes that accidentally spilled on the floor in the Starbucks scene
at the performance I saw. The cubes lay there, without melting, for the entire
scene, even though Mr. Beltran’s barista was busy cleaning up the joint.
Fortunately, Evan Cabnet’s direction is smooth, the
ensemble (and they definitely meet the definition) is polished, and the writing is filled
with lively and often very funny language. While Mr. Jacobs-Jenkins’s insights
into working at a faux-New Yorker may
not be what you’ll get from Mary Norris’s recent book about her experiences at the
actual magazine, they’re still enough to provide you with one of the
better new plays of the young season.
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| Michael Crane (front), Kyle Beltran. Photo: Carol Rosegg. |
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