52. PHOENIX
In Scott Organ’s PHOENIX, at the Cherry Lane
Theatre, Sue and Bruce are two attractive New York singles in their thirties
who met in a bar and hooked up for the night. Not long after (a month to him,
four weeks to her), she calls and arranges to meet him in a coffee shop where,
trying to be coolly businesslike, she points three things out to him: 1) she
likes him, 2) she doesn’t want to see him again, and 3) she’s pregnant. Thus begins this mildly
amusing, six-scene, boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl rom-com,
which had its world premiere at the 2010 Humana Festival in Louisville, and was
done by the Barrow Group during the 2009-2010 season.
Julia Stiles, James Wirt. Photo: Harry Fellows.
For many, the big reason to pay attention to this
slight and sporadically diverting two-character, 90-minute piece is the
presence of movie star Julia Stiles as Sue. She’s paired with the lesser-known up-and-comer
James Wirt in a work that survives principally on its often sprightly, smartass
repartee. Sue is a woman with enormous commitment issues, and Bruce is a
pleasant, intelligent guy, always ready with a smart retort. He appears not to have any looming
skeletons in the closet (although he does reveal a tragic experience) to prevent any girl with half a brain and a functioning
libido from being attracted to him. He’s obviously cool, since he covers his trim
physique (when he’s wearing clothes) in tight jeans and polo shirts, and has a
fashionable five o’clock shadow. Sue is supposed to look equally en vogue
but costume designer Amit Gajwani has given her a decidedly unflattering
wardrobe.
Sue’s a traveling nurse, a sign of her inability to put down roots, while Bruce is . . . well, I have no idea of what he does for a living, but he seems a pretty together dude without obvious job or financial burdens. Sue’s set on having an abortion and only came to tell Bruce of her pregnancy because he'd informed her of his inability to have kids. Naturally, discovering that he’s actually fertile comes as a shock. Despite learning he’s a prospective father, he’s the kind of decent fellow who, despite his inclinations, won’t insist that Sue have the baby. Still, he gets her to let him be at the abortion clinic when she’s scheduled to have the procedure. This, it turns out, is in Phoenix, Arizona, and to get there, he chooses to drives across the country. When Sue asks him where he’s staying, his answer is the Taurus (the car, get it?).
Sue’s a traveling nurse, a sign of her inability to put down roots, while Bruce is . . . well, I have no idea of what he does for a living, but he seems a pretty together dude without obvious job or financial burdens. Sue’s set on having an abortion and only came to tell Bruce of her pregnancy because he'd informed her of his inability to have kids. Naturally, discovering that he’s actually fertile comes as a shock. Despite learning he’s a prospective father, he’s the kind of decent fellow who, despite his inclinations, won’t insist that Sue have the baby. Still, he gets her to let him be at the abortion clinic when she’s scheduled to have the procedure. This, it turns out, is in Phoenix, Arizona, and to get there, he chooses to drives across the country. When Sue asks him where he’s staying, his answer is the Taurus (the car, get it?).
Julia Stiles, James Wirt. Photo: Harry Fellows.
As Bruce and Sue circle warily around her imminent procedure,
Bruce, who sees the potential not only of fatherhood but of his relationship
with Sue, begins to suggest that maybe she could reconsider; although he makes
a heartfelt plea to at least discuss the issue, Sue blows her stack and orders
him to leave. Things were going too smoothly, of course, and, following the
formula, the playwright needed to find a reason for boy to lose girl. Some time
passes, and Mr. Organ brings the couple back together again, with consequences I
don’t think will greatly surprise anyone.
Several dialogue sequences fill the space with witty jousting, one concerning condoms beyond their expiration dates (look closely at the program cover for an extension of the condom japery) and another inspired by talk of time travel, but they’re little more than filler for a mostly nutritionless confection. This is the kind of dramedy that lives or dies on
the charm and chemistry of its actors. Despite their pleasing personas, neither
Ms. Stiles nor Mr. Wirt bring anything unique to their performances, which seem
as generic as the play they’re in. I was watching a lovely 1938 Jimmy Stewart-Ginger
Rogers movie the next morning on TCM, THE VIVACIOUS LADY, and was struck by the
seemingly effortless warmth, depth, and charisma of the two stars as they met
and fell in love. There was a uniqueness to their presences that made me feel
these were the only actors who could fit these roles. With PHOENIX, the impression is that dozens of actors could play these cookie-cutter parts.
Jennifer Delia’s direction isn’t of much help, nor
is Caite Hevner Kemp’s unit set. Ms. Delia attempts to squeeze some juice out
of Ms. Stiles’s performance by giving her lots of busy stuff to do. In the
opening coffee shop scene, Ms. Stiles jumps up on a chair to emphasize
her lines. (Typical Starbucks behavior, you say?) In another scene, where Sue and Bruce are each in their apartments
talking to the other on the phone, Ms. Stiles romps through a series of yoga
exercises, including standing on her head, chatting all the while. And in another, she dances around as
if she's auditioning for “So You Think You Can Dance.” All of which are surely distractions designed to compensate for the thinness
of the role and the actress’s need to pump up her appeal.
Because the same furniture, a white couch with two
white chairs placed behind and facing away from it, is used for each scene, Ms.
Kemp places these pieces on a square platform rotated in semidarkness before
each new scene begins. To cover these shifts (and the several costume changes),
each scene ends with a blackout, followed by a beat before the lights (designed
by Rick Carmona) come up slightly as pop music (credited to Leisure Cruise) plays
and a shadowy figure (Mr. Wirt?) pushes the stage into its new alignment. These
scenes slow down what should be a much more upbeat tempo; they put an emotional
drag on the play’s comedic sensibility.
This is the first show I’ve seen where one person,
Ms. Kemp, is credited with “set design” and another, Burton Machen, with “scenic
design.” Mr. Machen’s program bio lists him as “scenic artist,” further
complicating the billing, but what it boils down to is that he contributed the half dozen
collage-style paintings that form the show’s backdrop, hanging in front of the brick
stage wall. It can’t be said that they add much to the production.
If you’re a Julia Stiles fan, this is a good chance
to see her up close in a small Off-Broadway venue. PHOENIX will not detract from
your respect for her as an intelligent and likable performer. But it won't add
much either. As rom-coms go, this is one PHOENIX I don't think will soon be rising from its ashes.
