Morry Schorr and Jillian McWhirter (Photo by Borough Park Productions)
Reviewed by Joel Beers
Two Roads Theatre
Through June 21
Few political aphorisms are more elastic than “you can’t legislate morality,” a phrase invoked by progressives to attack Prohibition and by conservatives to question anti-poverty programs.
Politics, at least on the macro level, is not on the agenda of Art Shulman’s well-intentioned and sweet, if ultimately slight, world premiere play. This is a small domestic comedy concerned with aging, marriage and impending parenthood – and a LOT of basketball. Yet the phrase lingers in the background of its central conflict: the perception by its two female characters that the men in their lives are insufficiently enthusiastic about an impending pregnancy.
Cindy (Brittney Deleon), expecting her first child, believes her husband Don (Jason Owsley, alternating with Ezra Black) doesn’t share her excitement about the baby growing inside her. Her mother Sheila (Jillian McWhirter) feels much the same about her husband Jake (Morry Schorr), whom she thinks should be more thrilled about becoming a grandfather. The strain reverberates through both marriages, with the women oscillating between frustration and resentment while the men seem more preoccupied with the fate of their weekly basketball game they both compete in.
But the play never quite dramatizes the behavior it insists upon. We hear repeated claims about the men’s lack of enthusiasm, but little onstage evidence to support them. Cindy harangues Don, and Sheila — a retired therapist — diagnoses Jake’s emotional shortcomings, yet the men remain largely reactive, defined more by interpretation than action. They appear less indifferent than misread, caught in a gap between expectation and expression.
Don, stressed by work troubles, briefly suggests that this may not be the ideal moment to expand the family. Beyond that, however, the case against him and Jake rests largely on inference: their attention drifts toward the aforementioned basketball game. Jake has been a player for 30 years (and had even recruited Don). But Jake’s on-court skills have deteriorated, something he’s in denial about, and now Don is the reluctant messenger who must tell him that the other players want him to retire. (But even this thread undercuts itself unravels when it’s noted that just recently Jake had drilled a game-winning 3-pointer.)
As a result, the play dribbles along parallel tracks — pregnancy and basketball — without ever fully binding them into a single drive to the bucket. The connection is thematic rather than theatrical; ideas take their position but seem to box each other out.
While there is genuine chemistry between Schorr’s Jake and McWhirter’s Sheila, the story lacks momentum. Additionally, for a play billed as a comedy-drama, there is precious little comedy and even less drama. The lack of sharp wit is magnified by the fact that in cadence and delivery, Schorr sounds like George Burns. The biggest laugh comes early when Sheila cites Jake’s bladder woes as evidence that his body is breaking down, only for Jake to insist that his bladder is in excellent shape and simply needs more exercise.
Beyond moments like that, the script offers few laughs and little tension, something Stan Mazin’s seemingly hands-off direction doesn’t compensate for. Conflicts are resolved through apologies, reassurances and a few conveniently timed phone calls regarding a possible new job for Don.
Then, in what should be the play’s denouement, comes its most interesting revelation. After Sheila proposes that Jake mentally walk through a metaphorical curtain to uncover the underlying reason for his (supposed) grandfatherly reluctance, he does just that. Up to this point, it seems reasonable to assume that any reluctance on his part stems from his fear that becoming a grandfather represents yet another reminder of advancing age. But when Jake passes through the imaginary curtain, he discovers a less profound but more plausible explanation.
This furthers the play’s tidy emotional housecleaning, prompting a moment of introspection that deepens Sheila’s affection for Jake. It’s a sweet ending, and arguably the play’s most affecting scene.
But sweetness only goes so far in a play where the pieces are in place and the effort is genuine, but where too much time has been spent dribbling outside the arc and not enough getting to the rim.
Two Roads Theatre, 4348 Tujunga Ave., Studio City. Fri.-Sat., 7:30 pm, Sun., 3 pm. https://www.lifebookacting.com/tworoadstheater/ Runtime: approximately 90 minutes with an intermission.
