The Playwrights’ Lament

Not until Children at Play has ended does one realize just how much the cast of Jordan Seavey’s promising (but ultimately disappointing) play has done to make the black comedy seem like the best new show in ages. Led by Susan Louise O’Connor, fresh from her rave reviews in Blithe Spirit on Broadway, the eight actors and director Scott Ebersold all manage to smooth over the rough patches of Seavey’s script about life in high school. Not until after the applause has died down does the realization come that Seavey bit off more than he can chew.
Among his plot points is the fallout from Chernobyl, eating disorders, teenage sexuality, molestation and the extent to which we’ve failed the next generation. Some of these ideas fit more organically into his story of five gifted and talented students than others (the eating disorder is mentioned with annoying infrequency), but the cast all manage to make the script seem fluid and natural.
As Morgan, an uptight overachiever, O’Connor gives what is rapidly becoming her signature, high-quality performance. Morgan has the neurotic gravitas of a Peanuts character, and O’Connor nails her feelings of superiority in scenes with her friends and her family.
But one of the problems with the script, as opposed to the stellar production from Collaboration Town, is that all eight characters get a chance in the spotlight. The performers make the most of their chances (particularly Boo Killebrew, Geoffrey Decas and Jennifer Dorr White as the much-needed comic relief), but the sprawling script never coheres. We jump from lectures delivered by a Chernobyl baby (Rachel Craw) to an imaginary, lacerating stand-up routine from Morgan’s vicious father (Jay Potter), but there’s no real progression as the students move closer to graduation. Just new sets of increasingly terrifying issues that never quite become anything other than a series of funny and disturbing vignettes.

At least Seavey has written interesting, layered characters in his play; Elliot Ramón Potts simply stocks his with two opposing viewpoints, and then sets them against one another in Loaded. Lovers Jude (Scott Kerns) and Patrick (Kevin Spirtas) are such mouthpieces for the playwright that Loaded might as well be a puppet show: All that’s missing from their forced, clearly delineated arguments are the marionette strings.
Potts has only the best of intentions in this play about the generational divide that separates forty-something Patrick from the 26-year-old Jude, but he’s less interested in writing an even-handed account of the issues two generations of gay men face (something achieved with shattering results in the Broadway-bound Next Fall) than he is in zipping through every gay issue imaginable in 90 minutes. Potts does nail Jude’s particular brand of zealous Sarah Lawrence gay that would rather discuss gender politics than have sex. But Kerns’ earnest performance is the show’s weakest link. His ringing sincerity might work well in a debate society, but it fails miserably when compared to Spirtas’ layered, nuanced performance as the cynical and very funny Patrick.
Much as in God of Carnage, Potts, unable to find a reason for these two to stay in the same room as they rip one another to shreds, simply dodges the issue. What was supposed to be an overnight visit between two fuck buddies goes on and on and on, but no one makes a serious move for the door. Patrick makes some half-hearted attempts to get them back into bed (their dirty talk is hilariously half-baked), but Jude is far more interested in playing at being an adult and forcing his uninformed idealism on Patrick while talking about marriage equality. And what talk! Potts seems incapable of writing believable dialogue, specializing instead in alternating monologues for Jude and Patrick. When he’s forced by his arbitrary plot to introduce some back story, the self-conscious dialogue sounds like a bad audition monologue.
At least director Michael Unger keeps Spirtas and Kerns moving around the cluttered, homey set from designer Adam Koch, throwing in enough male nudity and bed-lolling in the show’s first moments to trick the predominately homosexual audience into expecting something far more interesting than the didactic proceedings that follow. Loaded may have a sexy premise, but the end result is hard to swallow.

> Children at Play

Through Nov. 21, The Living Theatre, 21 Clinton St. (betw. E. Houston & Stanton Sts.), 212-352-3101; times vary, $18.

> Loaded

Through Jan. 23, Theater Row, 410 W. 42nd St. (betw. 9th & 10th Aves.), 212-279-4200; times vary, $49.