‘The Understudy’ — written by Theresa Rebeck. Directed by Paula Plum. Scenic Design by Peyton Tavares; Projections Design by Justin Lahue; Sound Design by Gage Baker; Lighting Design by Emily Bearce. Presented by Hub Theatre Company of Boston at Club Café, 209 Columbus Ave., Boston, through August 2.
By Shelley A. Sackett
Playwright Theresa Rebeck’s smart, funny, snarky The Understudy takes us straight into the belly of the beast known as “Broadway Theater.” (Rebeck also penned the smash TV series, “Smash.”) Set backstage during an understudy rehearsal for The Castle, a fictitious long-lost play by Franz Kafka, the three-hander starts with a five-screen surround projection of close-ups of a Clint Eastwood-esque guy’s stubbled face. He mugs and does a macho muscled vamp, screaming “Get in the truck!” menacingly. Eventually, the film’s title (“Trucknado”) blazes across the screen as a booming voice warns, “Stay low or drive high.”
A gunshot is next. Harry (Kevin Paquette) runs onto the stage, waving a gun around, looking over his shoulder, and wildly pointing it haphazardly at members of the audience. “Oh, it’s not real. For heaven’s sake,” he says, setting the tone for the next 100 minutes as the actors (and audience) straddle lines between the ridiculous and the believable, nonsense and common sense, the real and the surreal.
As it happens, Harry (plump in an adorable way, unkempt and shaggy-haired) had auditioned for that movie role and lost out to Jake (Cristhian Mancias-Garcia), now famous as an action hero owing to the film’s box office success ($90 million the first weekend). Although he claims he’s not bitter, Harry is as acidic as it gets. “He’s talent-free,” he snarls, pointing at Jake’s frozen screen image. Yet, he explains, Jake’s lack of acting ability is exactly what the part (and financial backers) demanded.
“What is reality? You have to ask yourself. I ask myself that all the time. I mean, when HE gets to be the REAL ONE, I think we’re all allowed a little moment of private rage or …the occasional fantasy with a gun,” he adds ruefully.
To rub cosmic salt in Harry’s wound, he has been cast, of course, as Jake’s understudy in The Castle, a role for which Harry had also auditioned. Jake, second fiddle to Bruce (the bankable lead star), is also an understudy — for Bruce. Stage manager Roxanne (Lauren Elias) will run this rehearsal because, with the show up and running, the director has moved on. This is, after all, merely a rehearsal for two understudies, mandated by insurance and not worth the time of anyone of real value.
Oh, and by the way, Harry left Roxanne at the altar six years ago, and the two have not seen each other until this moment. Thinking no one wanted to hire him because his name was Harry, Harry had changed his name to Robert Merrill.
Blindsided, Roxanne wails, “What can the universe be trying to teach me by having you show up?”
An unseen but ever-present fourth character, Laura, mans the lights and sounds from a pot-infused booth, her stoned antics providing initial laughs but ultimately wearing thin.
The rest of the play (under veteran Boston icon Paula Plum’s crisp, expert direction), however, flows beautifully, the three actors a perfectly cast ensemble and individually spot on in timing and nuance.
Rebeck’s conceit — that an existentially traumatizing, two-handed, three-hour Kafka play could be a hit on Broadway if it starred two movie box office draws — is the perfect platform from which she launches comedy and drama. There are hysterically satirical scenes counterbalanced with meaty discussions about Kafka, the brutality of a theatrical system that prizes looks and money over talent and integrity, and the uphill battle women must wage to keep a toe in the door. Snippets of the imaginary The Castle that Rebeck has penned showcase her dazzling insight and dramaturgical chops.
The three characters reveal a lot as they slog their way through a rehearsal for something that will never happen (Kafka-esque enough?). Roxanne, it turns out, is quite a good actor (as is Harry), but has had to transition to non-acting jobs (as has Harry) to stay in the theatrical arena that she won’t live without. She is tightly strung but very good at what she does, namely, shouldering all the responsibility to keep things moving while sacrificing the recognition reserved for actors and directors.
Jake, too, has a few surprises up his sleeve. He actually is a skilled actor, his talent untapped (and undisplayed) in his film. He is smart and articulate, and has done a deep dive into all things Kafka. He genuinely longs to prove his acting worth and is convinced that mouthing his ersatz idol’s words on stage will do just that.
Harry, a victim of a system that prizes assets he lacks, is a multi-faceted mash-up of hope, anger, bewilderment, tenderness, and talent. He is also hopelessly inept romantically. Yet, he manages to tug at our heartstrings (and Roxanne’s), emerging as endearingly (though exasperatingly) huggable as a teddy bear.
Peyton Tavares’ simple but effective design (three-wheeled screens mounted with sconces, a few chairs, a table) is enough to set the stage, especially when coupled with Justin Lahue’s projections. There are some nice, more serious moments, as the bromance between Jake and Harry blossoms and they sit and talk about their craft. There are also some lighthearted, behind-the-scenes scenes, such as the one where Harry and Jake turn their flashlights into light sabers, becoming two kids playing “Star Wars.”
We learn by the end of The Understudy that these three really are cut from the same cloth and that fate has dealt them the same hand. Despite its brutality, theater is the only flame that will ever draw them in, even at the risk of getting their wings a little singed.
For more information, go to http://www.hubtheatreboston.org/
