Review by Ron Fassler . . .
Upon entering A.R.T.’s Mezzanine Theatre on Manhattan’s West Side for the off-Broadway premiere of Max Mondi’s Maybe Tomorrow, you are greeted by a ¾ wrap-around stage consisting of Josafath Reynoso’s single set: a skeletal, caged-in bathroom, complete with tile floor, bathtub, sink, and—most distinctively—a toilet at its cockeyed center. This immediately conjured up a variation on Anton Chekhov’s theory that if you introduce a firearm in a play, it will go off. And yes, not only did one of the play’s two characters defecate on this porcelain throne, but it also got flushed. Since it’s the 21st century, does this mean “Chekhov’s Gun” has been reduced to “Chekhov’s Toilet?”
If only that were the sole question about this ninety-minute curiosity. Due to the play’s mix of it being a realistic look at a serious subject and an abstract take on a real-life (and bizarre) story from which the author based his inspiration, it winds up a confused muddle. Logic takes a back seat to brazen storytelling on a subject that combines the worst of postpartum depression with elements of Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and George and Martha’s imaginary child, which is cited outright in the dialogue by playwright Mondi. If you’re going to bring up one of the theatre’s most monumental plays and cavort in that sandbox, you had better bring along more than just a plastic pail and shovel.
In the opening scene, lovers Ben (Dan Amboyer) and Gail (Elizabeth A. Davis), are engaging in some healthy role play as a cop and a Russian femme fatale. This seems to be the way they spice up things, then reality interrupts things quickly when the conversation turns to such familiar couples’ issues as financial straits and whether they should move for better job prospects. They live in a trailer in Vermont and argue over resettling in New Jersey, which they ultimately do when they find out they’re going to have a baby. Hoping for the best, everything gets worse when Gail cannot cope with being a mother. She forces Ben to quit his job and become the full-time caregiver while she sells knick-knacks and jewelry in an on-line store, all while she refuses to leave the bathroom and even see her child.
This goes on for two years.
With so many questions unaddressed, it makes the play extremely difficult to take seriously. Why is the play set in a trailer if it depicts a bathroom larger than a studio apartment in Manhattan? Or is this how the room looks in Gail’s mind? We don’t know. And if the child isn’t allowed into what she has dubbed “her pause room?”, where does he go to the bathroom (do trailers have more than one?) And most important: since the playwright has created two fairly intelligent people (they are not trailer trash), why does Ben never get Gail professional help? It’s stymying.
Agoraphobia, melancholia, abandonment issues . . . there’s a lot to chew on here. But since the play straddles the real world and a fantasy one (Gail talks to the audience but Ben can’t), it’s a no-man’s land. I yearned for Ben to reach out and tell his side of the story, but Mondi seems solely concerned with Gail, to the detriment of us getting to know Ben better. Trapped with a madwoman in a cage (literally) leaves us on the outside looking in and we are not the better for it.
This is not to say the play doesn’t offer two excellent performances that give Dan Amboyer and Elizabeth A. Davis many chances to shine. They do their utmost with the material and they are aided by Chad Austin’s direction, even if he could have benefited from more insightful dramaturgy from a third party. Still, the action is fluid and well-paced and Davis brings a wealth of emotional resources to a nearly impossible role. It only adds to the failure of the piece that actors like these are left stranded by illogic and dramatic fireworks that fail to ignite.
Maybe Tomorrow, a presentation of the Abington Theatre Company, is at the Mezzanine Theatre at the A.R.T./New York Theatres, 502 W 53rd Street, NYC in a limited engagement through April 6th. For ticket information, please visit: https://www.abingdontheatre.org/maybetomorrow.
Photos by Grace Copeland.
Headline photo: Elizabeth A. Davis.