Rick Holmes and Mia Barron (Photo by Jeff Lorch)
This review is part of the Stage Raw/Unusual Suspects Youth Journalism Fellowship
Reviewed by Warren D Riley
Pasadena Playhouse
Through October 5th
RECOMMENDED
As our country maches towards a greater and greater partisan division, I would not blame a theater-goer for avoiding shows about political dissent. However, missing out on Jonathon Spector’s remount of Eureka Day at Pasadena Playhouse would be the greatest mistake an Angeleno could make this fall. With stellar performances and keen direction, Eureka Day offers a reflection on the innocent 2018 quiet before the Project 2025 storm.
The dark comedy centers on the passive-aggressive (and often, just-plain-aggressive) squabbles of a progressive elementary school’s Parent-Teacher Association, or PTA, as they decide whether or not to mandate vaccinations for their student body. When the parent group delves headfirst into this all-too-familiar discussion, the two sides of the vaccination debate emerge: to be or not to be immunized.
Captaining the opposing side is Suzanne (Mia Barron), a doting mother who initially appears to be an easy target for a left-leaning audience, yet proves to be anything but. She is a loud-mouthed, subtly racist, antivax white mother – an archetype that ensures cheers from a crowd of Angelenos when her opposition, Carina (Cherise Boothe), serves up science-backed snubs. In light of the recent attacks on medical and research institutions, this once-bold archetype of a conservative white mother may now be an overdrawn figure. While you could get sick of the outspoken Suzanne, you will never get sick of power-house Mia Barron, whose performance makes Suzanne’s conspiracy-ridden, mommy-blogger, therapy-speak effortlessly and endlessly watchable.
Barron’s antivaxxer meets her match in audience-surrogate Carina, all thanks to the refreshing, effectual performance by Cherise Boothe. Boothe’s quiet mother chimes in throughout the performance, either to diffuse the story’s ever-growing tension or, more commonly, to expertly cut down Suzzane’s ramblings. Boothe’s circumspect contributions are made integral as the PTA devolves into hilariously orchestrated chaos.
Director Teddy Bergman bravely conducts this orchestra as he marches into the play’s 2018 world, emerging with an ever-relevant commentary. While Spector’s dialogue and scenework are belly-achingly hilarious, one can’t help but view the story in 2025 as a time capsule of sorts: a window into an era where the term “politically correct” might have actually had meaning. The parents stumble through their controversy with comical discomfort, a hesitance and shame that has effectively disappeared in modern political debate. However, as the tale continues on, the parents shed their facades of political correctness and bare their razor-sharp teeth. Instead of an attempt to recontextualize the story for 2025, Bergman aligns his direction closely with the original text, offering a retrospective on how twenty-first-century Americans have chosen to speak to those we disagree with. In the case of Eureka Day, both sides of the vaccination debate are met with indignity, near-lethal vitriol, and gut-busting argumentation.
Eureka Day closes with Suzanne and her patient-zero, anti-vax rhetoric being ousted from the PTA; an ending which, in the play’s 2018 inception, may have read as a clear triumph. However, this production turns a once-victorious finale into a contemporary warning. The PTA chooses, with raucous applause from the audience, to silence their rambling antagonist. Her ultimate absence cannot be taken at face value, as it raises the question: If Suzanne, or people like her with loud, dangerous beliefs, are stripped of their voices, where will they go to be heard? In 2025, we may have found our answer. In a time where those in power herald a unanimous ousting of life-saving vaccinations, the story’s creative team does not dance on their villain’s grave, but forces their audience to contend with the strident antivaxxer before she finds another arena where her voice can be the loudest. While Eureka Day ends gleefully in her absence, the play’s final moments might just haunt a modern audience as they reflect on our past, present, and future political rhetoric. Though the PTA may have won this battle, Suzanne – and those who agree with her – may never truly disappear.
Pasadena Playhouse. Closed.
