90 Minutes of Dysfunctional Dysfunction
By Lauren Yarger
The most disturbing thing about Manhattan Theatre Club’s production of That Face playing Off-Broadway at New York City Center isn’t actually anything that happens in the play, though there’s more than plenty of worrying things to go around in this dysfunction fest.
What’s truly disturbing is that such a trip into abnormal family interaction should come from the tender mind of 19-year-old Polly Stenham (winner of britain's 2008 Critics Circle Award for Most Promising New Playwright.) Then again, no mind, young or old, should have to delve into the psyches of families such as this.
First we have the mother from hell -- and no dysfunction fest would be complete without one-- whose children for some reason constantly have to remember to call her Martha instead of Mommy when she’s sober enough to realize they are talking to her. Martha, I mean Mommy -- or do I mean Martha/Mommy (a really good Laila Robins who gives a full emotional arc) -- is disturbingly attached to/attracted to her son, Henry (Christopher Abbott), whose face she loves to gaze on and which is the only thing in the world that means anything to her.
By Lauren Yarger
The most disturbing thing about Manhattan Theatre Club’s production of That Face playing Off-Broadway at New York City Center isn’t actually anything that happens in the play, though there’s more than plenty of worrying things to go around in this dysfunction fest.
What’s truly disturbing is that such a trip into abnormal family interaction should come from the tender mind of 19-year-old Polly Stenham (winner of britain's 2008 Critics Circle Award for Most Promising New Playwright.) Then again, no mind, young or old, should have to delve into the psyches of families such as this.
First we have the mother from hell -- and no dysfunction fest would be complete without one-- whose children for some reason constantly have to remember to call her Martha instead of Mommy when she’s sober enough to realize they are talking to her. Martha, I mean Mommy -- or do I mean Martha/Mommy (a really good Laila Robins who gives a full emotional arc) -- is disturbingly attached to/attracted to her son, Henry (Christopher Abbott), whose face she loves to gaze on and which is the only thing in the world that means anything to her.
Henry quits school to stay with her in their shabby, but once-noble flat (David Zinn, scenic and costume design) decorated with pinned up drawings he's learning from Martha' art lessons. He sleeps in her bed, dresses in her nighties (which comes in handy after she cuts up all his clothes in a jealous rage) and even drinks with her in the hopes that giving in to her bizarre demands might just coax some “normal” behavior out of her.
Meanwhile, daughter, Mia (Cristin Milioti), may be expelled from school for drugging, torturing and beating underclassman Alice (Maite Alina) in a hazing incident led by whacko friend Izzy (Betty Gilpin) who enjoys Mia’s discomfort when she shares her sexual escapades with Henry. It’s up to the family’s dad, Hugh (Victor Slezak), to leave his new wife and child in Asia and fly back to London to try to fix the problems of family number one.
The characters seem interesting at first, and we’re intrigued to find out why they all have ended up as messed up as they are, which is an indication of the playwright’s potential. Stenham never clues us in, however, and except for a lot of awkward situations with fingers pointing blame and a lot of yelling, we’re not sure why any of them do what they do (but we do understand Hugh's decision to get out of there). Not much happens in terms of a plot or development of the characters beyond the rough outline notes the author must have scribbled like “Streetcar/August Osage/Medea/Mommie Dearest cross type for the mother. The working title might have been “If I Write a Shocking Play About a Horribly Dysfunctional Family, I Might Have a Shot at the Pulitzer!” (Unfortunately, there’s a lot of truth to that. It might not have taken the Pulitzer, but this 2007 play has won a variety of dramatic awards in England.)
There is some dysfunction in the flat dialogue, as well. When they aren’t using the “F” word, the characters ask each other lots of series of boring questions, one of which goes like this:
“Is that it? Is that all?
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?”
Henry spends a lot of time talking about who called on the phone, that his mother answered the phone, that his mother hung up the phone, that he should have answered the phone, wondering why someone didn’t call him on his cell phone, wondering why his father didn’t call on the phone. In the end, Mia also questions her father about whether he called her mother on the phone.
We never hear an actual phone conversation, or any other dialogue that might take the plot somewhere, however, so the characters don’t grow much. By the end of the play all we’re sure about is that “normal” Henry is just a sick as Mommy -- I mean Martha -- I mean Martha/Mommy -- and there‘s a pretty disturbing scene involving urination to prove it.
The performances, directed by Sarah Benson, actually are very well executed all around. They are emotional characters and the actors reach down deep to portray them -- we just don’t care much about them or understand why they are so whacked.
That Face plays through June 27 at Stage 1, NY City Center, 131 West 55th St., NYC. For tickets call 212-581-1212
Christians might also like to know:
Language
Lord’s name taken in vain
Sex outside of marriage
Meanwhile, daughter, Mia (Cristin Milioti), may be expelled from school for drugging, torturing and beating underclassman Alice (Maite Alina) in a hazing incident led by whacko friend Izzy (Betty Gilpin) who enjoys Mia’s discomfort when she shares her sexual escapades with Henry. It’s up to the family’s dad, Hugh (Victor Slezak), to leave his new wife and child in Asia and fly back to London to try to fix the problems of family number one.
The characters seem interesting at first, and we’re intrigued to find out why they all have ended up as messed up as they are, which is an indication of the playwright’s potential. Stenham never clues us in, however, and except for a lot of awkward situations with fingers pointing blame and a lot of yelling, we’re not sure why any of them do what they do (but we do understand Hugh's decision to get out of there). Not much happens in terms of a plot or development of the characters beyond the rough outline notes the author must have scribbled like “Streetcar/August Osage/Medea/Mommie Dearest cross type for the mother. The working title might have been “If I Write a Shocking Play About a Horribly Dysfunctional Family, I Might Have a Shot at the Pulitzer!” (Unfortunately, there’s a lot of truth to that. It might not have taken the Pulitzer, but this 2007 play has won a variety of dramatic awards in England.)
There is some dysfunction in the flat dialogue, as well. When they aren’t using the “F” word, the characters ask each other lots of series of boring questions, one of which goes like this:
“Is that it? Is that all?
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?”
Henry spends a lot of time talking about who called on the phone, that his mother answered the phone, that his mother hung up the phone, that he should have answered the phone, wondering why someone didn’t call him on his cell phone, wondering why his father didn’t call on the phone. In the end, Mia also questions her father about whether he called her mother on the phone.
We never hear an actual phone conversation, or any other dialogue that might take the plot somewhere, however, so the characters don’t grow much. By the end of the play all we’re sure about is that “normal” Henry is just a sick as Mommy -- I mean Martha -- I mean Martha/Mommy -- and there‘s a pretty disturbing scene involving urination to prove it.
The performances, directed by Sarah Benson, actually are very well executed all around. They are emotional characters and the actors reach down deep to portray them -- we just don’t care much about them or understand why they are so whacked.
That Face plays through June 27 at Stage 1, NY City Center, 131 West 55th St., NYC. For tickets call 212-581-1212
Christians might also like to know:
Language
Lord’s name taken in vain
Sex outside of marriage
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