The Realistic Joneses
Will Eno
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| Allison Jean White, James Wagner, Rebecca Watson & Rod Gnapp |
Under a massive, darkened sky full of twinkling stars “where you
can almost hear the clouds go by” and “in one of those little towns near the
mountains,” two neighboring couples sit out in their backyards talking a lot
and often not saying very much. All with the common name of “Jones,” each
is like an “Everyman/Everywoman,” expressing the probing questions and deep-felt
desires any and all of us has but also blurting out-of-the blue comments that
probably few of us ever would say. Their
banter is both a rapid-fire of short phrases batted back and forth as well as
periodic pauses where it is unclear if and when someone will speak next. Surprising
insights as well as unintentional non-sequiturs dot their conversations. More often than not, where those
conversations go often results in laughter from somewhere deep in the
watching audience. American Conservatory Theatre presents Will
Eno’s The Realistic Joneses, a play New York Times critic
Charles Isherwood described in 2005, “a Samuel Beckett for the Jon Stewart
generation.” The result is an engrossing and enigmatic, sassy and sad,
comedic and compassionate look at loneliness and relationship, fear and courage,
death and dreams.
The middle-aged Bob and Jennifer (Jones) have new neighbors,
younger John and Pony (Jones). The two couples hang out in their back
yards, mostly at night it seems, and begin to spend more and more time together
as a group and in various couplings (including eventually some neighborly
wife-husband swapping on the side). Along with last names, the two men
share being victims of the Harman Levy Syndrome (“Sounds like a jazz combo,”
says one), an increasingly debilitating disease that they all seem to
understand, but do not really want to say aloud, will end in sure death.
There is contemplation of the inevitable in wives’ worried glances at husbands
and husbands’ blank stares into nowhere; but there is hesitation to confront
for long, if at all, the fears gripping them inside. The horror of one
and the fascination of another with a found, dead squirrel that is quickly
tossed with a loud thud into a waiting garbage can captures the way death is hanging
in the air around them but is quickly passed over as a topic not to be dealt
with at this time.
Their lives are not moving much of anywhere in particular, but
there is a journey each is on that appears to be difficult. Jennifer
voices what any one of them could have said of their lives: “I don’t know how everybody
else does this.” Although there is a lot of talking going on, it is
unclear how much is being shared. As Bob
says to his wife, “There are a lot of unsaid things between us ... good
things.” Their meetings and greetings are often awkward; relationship
does not come naturally. An unseen
magnet pulls them together, but loneliness is always present for each.
Says one to another, “I like your voice, but don’t touch me or say anything,”
reflecting the yes/no attitude each shows when considering bridging a
connection to another.
 |
| Rod Gnapp & James Wagner |
The vast sky above both seems to give them some peace of mind
while also reflecting just how small and insignificant they really are.
Pony says at one point, “If they get all the big history stuff wrong, what will
they say (someday) about us?” Huge trees that hover above them remind us
that it is to nature and forests that playwrights often send troubled souls to
seek solace and resolution. While answers do not necessarily emerge to
the questions they seem to be positing about their lives, there is a collective,
calm face in the end given to the realism of their situations -- a kind of
group sigh of some recognized relief that life is what it is, and now let’s
just move on to tomorrow.
Rod Gnapp and Rebecca Watson are the older Bob and Jennifer;
James Wagner and Allison Jean White, the younger John and Pony. While
each performer brings wonderful nuance, quirkiness, and depth of interpretation
to the four individuals, their power of performance is actually as an
ensemble. In quartet, trio, and various duet combinations, their
conversations amuse, intrigue, and provide some pause – but in wonderfully
different ways among the different mixes. Loretto Greco directs their
chamber-like performance with a deft touch that is never over-bearing but
always just a bit surprising in what comes next in how Will Eno’s clever
dialogues will be delivered.
 |
| Rebecca Watson & Rod Gnapp |
Andrew Boyce has created a fabulous set that reflects both the
immensity of the universe and the familiarity of homes and backyards that could
be any of ours, any where in much of small-town America. The nighttime
and other nature sounds created by David Van Tieghem join with the lighting
schemes of Robert Wierzel to create a feel of the outdoors on the large ACT stage.
Brandin Baron pitches in with costumes that are generic enough to be things
most of us might wear at some point but also telling of the personalities each
character brings to the scene.
That nothing is really resolved in the end of this glimpse into
these four lives does not mean that something significant has not
happened. We leave them feeling perhaps a bit more connected with each
other than when we met them. We have laughed, and even they have laughed
a few times along the way. We and they have once again been reminded of
our mortality; our need to matter in some way, to someone, before we go; and
our realization that in the end, we are just specks in a much grander scheme
... and that is probably OK. American Conservatory Theatre, Loretta Greco,
and this talented cast of four leave us with some chuckles, maybe a tear or
two, and some things to go home and gnaw on for awhile about who we are and why
we are.
Rating: 4 E
The
Realistic Joneses continues through April 3, 2016 at the Geary stage of the
American Conservatory Theatre, 405 Geary Street. Tickets are available
online at http://www.act-sf.org/
or by calling the box office 415-749-2228.
Photos
by Kevin Berne
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