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Slouching towards 40-something.
A year ago Jane and Roy had an ideal marriage, if seen from afar; Tom and Marrell were expecting their first child; and Alan's mnemonic ability made him a popular TV personality. He could recite long swaths of dialogue from memory.
Then Roy took ill and died. Jane has become, she says, a "bad widow." The baby wakes up every 15 minutes, and its cries have pushed Tom and Marrell beyond tolerance - and fidelity. Alan wants to change his name and his life.
The title of Melissa James Gibson's comedy-drama suggests something specific should follow the word: this what? But for most of its 100 intermissionless minutes, there is no what. The quartet's caught in between what was and what's next.
If Roy held the group together, the arrival of Jean-Pierre, a French doctor on his way to Africa, triggers the tumult. The quartet confesses their troubles to others (even to those the trouble will offend). They have, as Alan says, "a sudden sense of urgency mixed with intense exhaustion."
By contrast, Jean-Pierre is soft-spoken, definite and in the end knows exactly what is "this" and what isn't.
Although the script sounds like yet another mid-life whiner, it boasts genuine humor and three terrific scenes: the intro, in which an apparently chaotic game foretells the future; an almost mute scene where Marrell composes on the piano and Tom does woodwork: they say few words and the tension pressure-cooks; in the other, Gibson follows a ritual for life with a stark, unexpected one for death.
The language grabs as well. At times the characters speak beyond their grasp, and step outside the plot for lengthy, set-piece riffs on a tangential subjects. But Gibson's found at least 50 ways to destabilize things - to un-this them (Jane sits in the "almost dark": do you pronounce a Brita filter "Britta" or "Breeta"? Tom is "evolved but not mature"; they play a game "with nothing to get"). Even the way someone says "I'm sorry" becomes indefinite, since some are, and others aren't.
Often when an actor gives a special performance the critics proclaim it an artistic breakthrough - when as often as not the actor had the goods all along and finally got the chance to express them.
Courtney Corey's Jane has that quality. The play tears Jane down and builds her back up. Wearing no make-up and unflattering togs, her hair as frazzled as Jane's psyche, Corey marks each step with emotional truth.
She also blends into a fine ensemble cast, directed by Kirsten Brandt (of Sledehammer Theatre fame): Richard Baird (blue collar Tom); Judith Scott (jazz pianist Marrell), Matt Thompson (Jean-Pierre), and especially Andrew Ableson, whose Alan provides ongoing comic relief and angst.
This begins with a game. The characters engage in another one throughout: they constantly try to one-up each other. Although the ensemble's tight in other ways, their reactions to the status-games have a sameness that needs variety.
No quibbles about the design work: Marty Burnett (set); Alina Bokovikova (costumes); Matt Novotny (lighting); and Paul Peterson (sound).
North Coast Repertory Theatre, 987-D Lomas Santa Fe Drive, Solana Beach, playing through April 29.
Slouching towards 40-something.
A year ago Jane and Roy had an ideal marriage, if seen from afar; Tom and Marrell were expecting their first child; and Alan's mnemonic ability made him a popular TV personality. He could recite long swaths of dialogue from memory.
Then Roy took ill and died. Jane has become, she says, a "bad widow." The baby wakes up every 15 minutes, and its cries have pushed Tom and Marrell beyond tolerance - and fidelity. Alan wants to change his name and his life.
The title of Melissa James Gibson's comedy-drama suggests something specific should follow the word: this what? But for most of its 100 intermissionless minutes, there is no what. The quartet's caught in between what was and what's next.
If Roy held the group together, the arrival of Jean-Pierre, a French doctor on his way to Africa, triggers the tumult. The quartet confesses their troubles to others (even to those the trouble will offend). They have, as Alan says, "a sudden sense of urgency mixed with intense exhaustion."
By contrast, Jean-Pierre is soft-spoken, definite and in the end knows exactly what is "this" and what isn't.
Although the script sounds like yet another mid-life whiner, it boasts genuine humor and three terrific scenes: the intro, in which an apparently chaotic game foretells the future; an almost mute scene where Marrell composes on the piano and Tom does woodwork: they say few words and the tension pressure-cooks; in the other, Gibson follows a ritual for life with a stark, unexpected one for death.
The language grabs as well. At times the characters speak beyond their grasp, and step outside the plot for lengthy, set-piece riffs on a tangential subjects. But Gibson's found at least 50 ways to destabilize things - to un-this them (Jane sits in the "almost dark": do you pronounce a Brita filter "Britta" or "Breeta"? Tom is "evolved but not mature"; they play a game "with nothing to get"). Even the way someone says "I'm sorry" becomes indefinite, since some are, and others aren't.
Often when an actor gives a special performance the critics proclaim it an artistic breakthrough - when as often as not the actor had the goods all along and finally got the chance to express them.
Courtney Corey's Jane has that quality. The play tears Jane down and builds her back up. Wearing no make-up and unflattering togs, her hair as frazzled as Jane's psyche, Corey marks each step with emotional truth.
She also blends into a fine ensemble cast, directed by Kirsten Brandt (of Sledehammer Theatre fame): Richard Baird (blue collar Tom); Judith Scott (jazz pianist Marrell), Matt Thompson (Jean-Pierre), and especially Andrew Ableson, whose Alan provides ongoing comic relief and angst.
This begins with a game. The characters engage in another one throughout: they constantly try to one-up each other. Although the ensemble's tight in other ways, their reactions to the status-games have a sameness that needs variety.
No quibbles about the design work: Marty Burnett (set); Alina Bokovikova (costumes); Matt Novotny (lighting); and Paul Peterson (sound).
North Coast Repertory Theatre, 987-D Lomas Santa Fe Drive, Solana Beach, playing through April 29.