The Realistic Joneses

Michael C. Hall and Tracy Letts; Credit Joan Marcus

Michael C. Hall and Tracy Letts; Credit Joan Marcus

I am on the fence with Will Eno.  Hated Tom Pain (based on nothing), ADORED Middletown, and pretty much liked Open House.  This production of The Realistic Jones has done little to help move me toward the sunny side of the fence.Two couples with the same last name, and with the same physical ailments present, are new neighbors in a little town near some mountains.  They speak in spurts.  The way a teenager learns to drive a stick shift.  Forward.  Not-so-fast! Stop.  Stall.  Shift to neutral.  Foot on brake.  Restart.

The play (no intermission) consists of a series of scenes which are in and of themselves often gems.

JENNIFER
…Do you want to talk?

BOB
What was just the whole thing about painting the house? And the other night about Belgium?

JENNIFER
That was two very short conversations. I don’t have some particular, I’m not… it just seems like we don’t talk.

BOB
What are we doing right now? Math?

JENNIFER
No, we’re– I don’t know– sort of throwing words at each other.

There are a lot of these moments.  The two couples gravitate toward one another because of proximity and little else.  But in this case, that is enough.  The men are grappling with their own physical dilemmas and the women are mopping up the messes as they come up. In the case of Jennifer (Toni Colette) and Bob (Tracy Letts) they are in their mess together.  In the case of John (Michael C. Hall) and Pony [yes this is her name] (Marisa Tomei), she is not in on the secret.

JENNIFER
What about Pony?

JOHN
It’s all taken care of.

JENNIFER
How?

JOHN
I’m hoping you can check in on her.

JENNIFER
That’s how it’s all taken care of?

JOHN
I’m not a details person.

These scenes are poignant and clever.  Eno makes you pay attention to each moment these characters share.  As well, there are some terrific performances here.  Michael C. Hall (in spite of the audience, literally cheering when he entered – puhleeze) gives John a certain attention to detail combined with an imbalance that gives the impression he is walking a tightrope.  Tomei’s Pony is bordering on manic that whizzes through her like a quick puff of air.  You don’t pay attention, you won’t see it.  Collette is less effective, but possesses a stillness that speaks of a woman who is trapped but cannot struggle too hard because her husband is bound to her.  Only Mr. Letts seems out of place which was immensely disappointing.  While he is sincerely playing the part of a man who is ill and battling the daily unexpected events, he brings little depth or color to Bob until the final scene of the play.

There is no story here, no plot, and that is of course on purpose.  It reminds me of Caryl Churchill’s Love and Information. This is a series of scenes that are meant to connect because of the subject at hand.  I also thought of the time that a friend and I performed a short reading of nothing but one liners from Booth Cartoons.  A hilarious event.  But those are pieces not meant to connect in a formal way.  Here we have four people stranded in a tiny town ostensibly doing everything they can TO connect.

Eno is examining how we are realistic with one another.  How we stop and start.  Change direction, the turn around and come back to the starting place.  Got it. In this world of short attention spans, where Tweets and texts are “cray-cray” are the communication styles du jour, Eno fits right in.  Me – I can dig that and have done so.  Once that premise is evident, however, as it is within the first 15 minutes, the remaining time becomes a dull tune of only a few notes played over and over again.  As anyone who has heard a child play a toy piano on a rainy afternoon, the situation becomes maddening in short order.  I left the theatre in search of adult conversation – you know, the kind that informs you, leads down a new path, leaves you richer in spirit.  Like that.  Cray-cray or what?

By Will Eno; directed by Sam Gold; sets by David Zinn; costumes by Kaye Voyce; lighting by Mark Barton; sound by Leon Rothenberg; technical supervision by Hudson Theatrical Associates; production stage manager, Jill Cordle; general manager, Bespoke Theatricals; associate producers, Michael Crea and P J Miller. Presented by Jeffrey Richards, Jerry Frankel, Jam Theatricals, Stacey Mindich, Susan Gallin, Mary Lu Roffe, Andy Sandberg, Scott M. Delman, William Berlind, Caiola Productions, CandyWendyJamie Productions, Amy Danis and Mark Johannes, Finn Moellenberg Productions, Angelina Fiordellisi, Jay Franke, Gesso Productions, Grimaldi Astrachan Hello Entertainment, Meg Herman, Mara Smigel Rutter Productions, KM-R&D and Will Trice, in association with Yale Repertory Theater; James Bundy, artistic director; Victoria Nolan, managing director. At the Lyceum Theater, 149 West 49th Street, Manhattan; 212-239-6200, telecharge.com. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes.

WITH: Toni Collette (Jennifer Jones), Michael C. Hall (John Jones), Tracy Letts (Bob Jones) and Marisa Tomei (Pony Jones).

 

Tulis McCall

Author: Tulis McCall

For my money, the theatre is up there in the ten top reasons to be human. I leave my home and go sit in a dark room with complete strangers and watch actors do their stuff because I want to be inspired. I’m asking to be involved. I’m volunteering to be led down any old path they choose as long as they don’t let go of my hand. And if I see a show, and it is NOT so very good – I will try to divert you, because I don’t want you to come to the temple when the preaching isn’t up to snuff. I will bar the door, I will swing from rafters, I will yell FIRE just to set your feet on a path that does not lead to disappointment. Do something different with your evening I will say. Save your money for dinner with a friend you haven’t seen in months because you are too frigging busy. Go take a walk with your dog or your child or your significant other. Go to bed early, I will say. Don’t come to the theatre when it is less than it can be. I’m an usher snob, and that’s all there is to it.

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