Skip to main content

Two Strangers Carry a Cake Across New York

 We're all used to the choices the literary world makes when representing a wedding: we see the toast, the first dance, the kiss, the selection of the bridal gown. So Jim Barne already has me on his side by defying expectations and choosing to focus on the "early life" of the wedding cake.


Writers are constantly using elisions. We rarely see characters visiting the bathroom, shopping for socks, folding laundry. I really like when a writer bucks a trend. Going to pick up a cake can involve a brief nostalgic stop outside the main branch of the Brooklyn Public Library, an awkward Uber ride, a challenging bit of sedan-to-curb choreography--all of these moments are explored in the new musical "Two Strangers." The actual care and maintenance of the cake is a process that allows Robin to reveal a few secrets, discover that she can have a good time with Dougal, and take steps toward a total meltdown. The ultimate fate of the cake--something so small--is a moment that causes loud gasps in the theater.

Watching this new show, I couldn't help but think of "Ragtime," a musical I sort of dislike. "Ragtime" is fundamentally shallow, but it persuades people that it must be thoughtful because of the weightiness of the subject matter. The characters are two-dimensional; if you're paying close attention, it doesn't matter that Mother has a marital crisis. It doesn't matter because no one on the creative team has really taken time to explore who Mother is or might be. By contrast, "Two Strangers" is a show about an apparently trivial errand. But it's much deeper than "Ragtime"--because the writers have done their best to put two living, breathing people on the stage. When the characters are rounded, you do not need a guest appearance from Booker T. Washington to create drama. Rounded characters create their *own* drama--by exploring (or failing to explore) their hopes and dreams.

All that aside, I do share the NYT's concerns. The character of Robin doesn't entirely make sense. And yet I'm delighted that the show exists. It's great to see new writers taking a swing. There are few better options at a NY theater--at the end of 2025.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...
1 comment
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more