A Kid Like Jake
Reviewed by Stephen Fife
IAMA Theatre Company
Through November 3
RECOMMENDED
In her pre-show speech on opening night of IAMA Theatre’s production of Daniel Pearle’s A Kid Like Jake, co-artistic director Stefanie Black told the audience, “For our 12th season, we chose plays that will make you feel.” I can’t speak to the rest of the season, but this production certainly succeeds in doing that.
To be honest, my expectations were not high. A play about the parents of a child with a sexually-fluid identity, it was first produced in 2013 at New York’s Lincoln Center, then made into a 2018 independent film starring Claire Danes and Jim Parsons. I saw the film on one of the premium networks — or rather, I saw the first 15 minutes and then changed the channel. While the movie deals with a compelling subject, I just couldn’t believe in Danes and Parsons as a couple, and the presence of a very young actor playing Jake made me deeply uncomfortable. The film had “important subject” stamped all over it, and it buckled beneath the weight. It felt to me like a subject better explored in a documentary.
I was glad to find that the play is completely about the parents, and that Jake remains an offstage character. While it took a while to warm to, it’s sensitively written, filled with astute observations about marriage and parenthood. What Pearle captures brilliantly here (and what didn’t come through in the movie) is the transformation that parents go through during that indescribable period between the birth of their children and their entry into school. Having lived through this process myself (my daughter is now 20), I am filled with admiration for how a young writer like Pearle is able to bring this couple and their very relatable dilemma to such vivid stage life.
IAMA Theatre has assembled a terrific team, under the direction of Jennifer Chambers, to make this possible. Sarah Utterback and Tim Peper play the couple, Alex and Greg respectively, and they are both excellent. Greg is a therapist, Alex a former attorney who left the corporate fast track to become a full-time parent. The always-wonderful Sharon Lawrence plays the principal of the pre-school that Jake has attended, and who is now assisting Alex and Greg in getting him into one of New York City’s prestigious but insanely overpriced kindergartens. Lawrence does what she can to flesh out her character, but in the end she mainly serves as a sounding board for the couple — trying to provide a reality check to their mood swings. Olivia Liang does a fine job as the nurse of their pediatrician and in a few other roles.
Chambers has chosen to stage the play on a three-sided thrust, so that those audience members on house right and house left are looking at each other as well as at the play. This creates some difficult angles for lighting designer Ginevra Lombardo to cope with, as well as issues for those patrons who suddenly find themselves shut out of a scene, watching the actors’ backs. A setup like this also risks distracting audience members from the play should they observe someone across the way who looks bored or drops his or her water bottle. But for this critic on opening night, the risk completely paid off. In fact, this staging has many benefits, chief among them the sense of instant community that is fostered by observing people as drawn into the world of this couple as I was.
Much of the publicity for A Kid Like Jake has focused on the LGBTQ aspect of the subject matter, but there is not really much exploration of this issue beyond how Jake’s transgender status should be “pitched” to prospective schools and how the mom and dad themselves are struggling to accept this. For some people, this might be disappointing, but it wasn’t for me. The strength of the play lies in its insistence on regarding this couple with a steady and unflinching gaze, refusing to make them more “likable.” This is especially true for the mom, Alex. Sarah Utterback burrows deeply into her pain, furnishing a searing portrait of motherhood that will live on in my mind for quite a while, as I suspect it will for most people who see this heartrending production.
The Carrie Hamilton Theatre at the Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; through Nov. 3. (323) 380-8843 or www.iamatheatre.com. Running time: 95 minutes with no intermission.
