By Samuel L. Leiter . . .
After a two-year-hiatus because of Covid, Off Broadway’s Keen Company returns to Theatre Row with This Space between Us, a stumbling new family dramedy by Peter Gil-Sheridan (The Rafa Play) that perfectly matches the group’s commitment to issues of “identification and connection.” In fact, it almost goes out of its way to do so, depicting as it does a half-dozen racially, religiously, politically, and sexually diverse characters embedded in a plot about family, romance, and social Samaritanism. The playwright’s good intentions, however, like those of his central character, don’t easily translate into satisfactory results.
That central character is Jamie (Ryan Garbayo), a gay, 35-year-old lawyer who can “pass” as straight, but whose partner, Ted (Tommy Heleringer), a magazine editor, is more, shall we say, limp-wristed. Jamie’s parents are Debbie (Joyce Cohen), white, and Frank (Anthony Ruiz), a Cuban immigrant whom Jamie says is “brown” but Debbie calls “olive.” Jamie’s good friend Gillian (Alex Chester), a bubbly magazine editor, half-white, half-Asian, would gladly be more than Jamie’s friend if he swung the other way. And Sister Pat (Glynnis Bell), Debbie’s sister and nemesis, is a Sister of the Catholic Church. Technically, she’s not a nun, although others, including Debbie—with whom she’s in perpetual jealous conflict for Jamie’s affection—call her one.
We first meet this bunch at a racetrack outing, which introduces them in broad sit-com style, with numerous potentially sensitive social issues being fodder for one-liners serving as markers on the wokeness scale. Much of the sought-for humor comes from Frank’s alleged cluelessness, such as his calling the part-Asian Gillian a “chee-na,” or complimenting her on her appearance, things he, in his good-natured way, defends as harmless but that others find offensive. Frank is a likable, if ignorant, caricature of a working-class Republican; that’s reason enough to drive his liberal, Rachel Maddow-listening son up the flagpole.
But we also have jokes at the expense of Ted’s veganism (broccoli lasagna is his forte), his PETA-like feelings about animal cruelty, and his calorie consciousness. The latter squeezed out my sole titter when Ted said he was off beer because it was “like drinking straight bread.” By setting the opening at a horse race, Mr. Gil-Sheridan gives Ted plenty of triggers.
When otherwise hungry for a laugh, the playwright has Debbie attack her sister, whose sincere piety she’s so unwilling to accept as genuine that she attributes it to a lesbian attraction. She even makes a point of ridiculing Pat’s blue-cloth headpiece by calling it a wimple, which Pat insists it is not. Ultimately, tension between the siblings erupts into a physical brouhaha—neither funny nor cleverly executed—while Ted, who is HIV positive (another source of laughs), lies ill nearby in a hospital bed.
Over the course of an intermission-less hour and 40 minutes This Space between Us dramatizes the conflicted relationships between Jamie and his parents, Jamie and Gillian, Jamie and Ted (a marriage proposal provides a key scene), and Debbie and Pat. As the title suggests, each outburst underlines the space between them.
The biggest space, at least geographically, opens with Jamie’s bombshell decision to leave his lucrative law position in the corporate world for a low-paying job meant to help the suffering people of Eritrea; ironically, this corrupt African nation has been in the news lately as one of the tiny handful of UN countries refusing to condemn Russia for invading Ukraine. Perhaps we should have been prepared for Jamie’s humane proclivities; during the scene shifts, open spaces in the race track board forming a background for the entire play reveal electronic zipper banners citing multiple international catastrophes, albeit few you might immediately recognize.
Jamie’s new job eventually requires that he move to Africa (Kenya’s Nairobi, actually). Well before this time, the freewheeling, sometimes farcical manner of the early scenes has been abandoned, replaced by increasingly “serious” drama about the choices we make and where our priorities should be placed. A surprise visit to Nairobi from home—requiring a huge stretch to accept—helps the disillusioned Jamie get his priorities back on track.
Steven Kemp’s simple set—a green race track board in front of which scenes are differentiated by a few pieces of furniture—is serviceable, if little else; Daisy Long’s lighting lets us see things clearly; and Rodrigo Munõz’s costumes help define the characters. Jonathan Silverstein’s direction, however, fails to find a consistent style on the farce-to-drama spectrum. A particular unsolved problem is the script’s frequent calling for time to stand still; every now and then the action freezes, the lights dim, and some character or the other is spotlighted, but these brief pauses seem more pretentious than organic. About the only bit where time actually does stand still is when Jamie’s parents, having crashed his place uninvited, throw an air mattress on the ground, plug it in, and watch it inflate in real time. Zzzzzz.
The actors are adequate but little more, no one able to provide a convincingly three-dimensional human being within the constraints of this clumsy script. Ryan Garbayo probably comes closest, but there’s a big space between his tortured Jamie and most of the others, no matter how hard they try. The Keen Company may be back, but they’ll need a little more time to live up to their name.
Photos: Carol Rosegg
Theatre Row
140 W. 42nd Street, NYC
Through April 2
