Carol Mulroney is the archetypal sad girl whose "fall" from her beloved urban rooftop is the fulcrum of the new play by Stephen Belber that bears her name. But in the Huntington Theatre Company's world-premiere production, the depths of Carol's "inexplicable sadness" (as Belber calls it in the program) remain a bit blank despite her personal problems. And though there's a lot to like about this production, that's a fatal flaw. The dialogue about the siren song of the edge doesn't really connect with the character. We're left with the feeling that if she'd opted for Zoloft instead of beer and vodka, a life might have been saved.
Carol's in her 30s and coping with a collapsing marriage by hanging out up on the roof, with the stars and city lights. Her husband, Lesley, feeling something hollow at work and at home, has announced he wants to grow potatoes and harvest honey on the rooftop. He wants kids and she doesn't. Carol talks it all over with her friend Joan, who drops by with a six pack and a fifth. Meanwhile, Carol's pot-puffing dad, Hutton, is deciding whether to give a promotion to Lesley or to buppie Ken. There are a couple of revelations looming, none of which will come as a great surprise to anyone who's been going to plays over the last 20 years. And after Carol finally goes over the parapet, there's grieving and lots more talk and a bit of comedy with her ashes.
That tone is another problem with "Carol Mulroney." There's a lot of laughter, especially early on in response to sitcommy punchlines. There's some angsty realism. And there are moments of wacky absurdity. You never know quite how to feel.
Johanna Day (especially) and Reuben Jackson are fine as Joan and Ken. Tim Ransom as Lesley is a rather generic self-doubting yuppie rat, but that may be the play, not the actor. Familiar face Larry Pine instantly establishes Hutton with that kind of effortless authority that good character actors seem to acquire, although I never for a minute believed this gray-haired salesman as a midnight toker.
There are a lot of familiar contemporary tropes in the play, starting
with the random weed smoking and the yuppie who wants to get his hands
back in the good earth. As good as Day is, I feel like I've seen Joan a bazillion times: (Spoiler alert!) the
hard-drinking best friend who commiserates with her pal while sleeping
with her pal's husband. And there's something familiar about Ken, the
nice young black man who's conflicted about his attraction to a white
girl. You can be pretty sure he won't be arguing that O.J. was innocent.
That leaves us with Ana Reeder as Carol. The character is supposed to be 32, I think, but she's somehow juvenilized here, if that's a word. She's dressed in jeans and this longish shirt that hangs about her hips just so - she looks a teenager, and her dreamy dissociation makes her seem like one, too. Reeder does her best to make us feel her hurt, but the play leaves us waiting for something more.
A wild theory here: One or two clues make me think there is a more concrete explanation for Carol's fate, but either Belber decided to keep it totally off stage or else a more explicit explanation was edited out somewhere in the creative process.
Sexual abuse is also a favorite topic of contemporary dramatists, whether by priests, driving instructors or family members. And though cheery Hutton is at times the most appealing character on stage, there's a weird daddy-daughter thing going on here. Carol's mother killed herself, leaving the two of them to cope together, and Carol's belated discovery of her mom's suicide note seems to be the main explanation for her current mood.
Toward the end of the play, there are three repetitions of a scene in which a younger Carol and her dad find themselves enjoying the view from the ass of a giant theme-park elephant. (There's that wacky absurdity I was talking about.) Hutton keeps pushing Carol to say she's having a good time; there's something intimately claustrophobic about the scene. And once on Wednesday night, when he leaned in to kiss her, it looked as if he was going for the lips before detouring to the forehead.
Not much to build a case on, I know. Probably I'm seeing something that's not there. And maybe if I'm right it was better edited out; we've seen that play already, haven't we? But as it is, "Carol Mulroney" is too much of an enigma.