by Mike Hoban
The Book Club Play – Written by Karen Zacarías; Directed by Shana Gozansky; Scenic Design by Jeffrey Petersen; Lighting Design by Kat C. Zhou; Sound Design by Stephanie Lynn Yackovetsky; Costume Design by Kevin Morris. Presented by Boston Playwrights’ Theatre, 949 Commonwealth Avenue Boston, through October 13
There’s a saying that came out not long after the first photographs were developed, “The camera cannot lie”. And as those of us who are less-than-photogenic can attest, the truth isn’t always pretty. The same can be said of film, which is the premise of The Book Club Play, an updated version of the 2008 Karen Zacarías work now being given its Boston premiere at the Boston Playwrights’ Theatre.
As the title suggests, the focus of the play is a book club, which in turn is the focus of a documentary by a (fictional) acclaimed Danish documentary film maker, the amusingly named Lars Knudsen. He’s interested in documenting the distinctly American phenomenon of the book club, and has chosen one founded and led by Ana – pronounced “Ah-nuh” – (the gifted Becca A Lewis), a lifestyle columnist for the city’s daily paper that, as we soon learn, is more than a little bit controlling. We first meet her as she is speaking into the camera, describing Book Club as a “safe haven…a place to read, talk, and to be our authentic selves.”
Unfortunately for most people, being our ‘authentic’ selves is all too often confused with being our idealized selves, and like a retouched photograph, we hope that others will only see us in the best light, without any of the metaphorical blemishes. (“Authentic” is the new “Classy” and one that many people – particularly those in the advertising and marketing worlds – should really be barred from using). So when Ana reassures the hesitant book club members, “Lars Knudsen is very clear – he just wants us to be us. Nothing will change,” she at least gets the first half of the statement right.
In addition to Ana, who haughtily informs the camera that she came up with the book club idea long before Oprah, there’s her husband Rob (Sean Patrick Gibbons), the handsome former college football stud turned pharmaceutical salesman, who is intellectually less than curious and in fact never actually reads the books; Will (Greg Maraio), who may (or may not) be a closeted gay man, is a nattily dressed intellectual who was Ana’s college boyfriend before she was swept off her feet and into the bed of his close friend Rob; Lily, an African American twenty-something and rising journalism star at Ana’s paper (played by Rachel Cognata, herself a rising star); and Jen (Meredith Gosselin), an underachiever with low self-esteem for whom book club, “reminds me of the better parts of being human.” There’s also a group of characters unconnected to the action known only as “Pundit” (Brooks Reeves), who plays individual roles such as an elderly Wal-Mart worker and a former Secret Service agent who seems to confuse Book Club with Fight Club.
As the play unfolds, the members predictably play the erudite card for the camera while they dissect the Melville classic, “Moby Dick”, but as they become more comfortable, essentially forgetting they’re being filmed, their true ‘authentic’ selves begin to emerge. The Book Club soon becomes less about literature and more about the characters personal lives, and the stakes – as well as the comic level – begins to rise.
The comic ante gets upped when Jen invites her friend Alex (Anthony Goes) – a jilted comparitive literature professor who resembles The Dude from The Big Lebowski – to join the group. After being dumped at the altar for being a literary snob, he’s had a revelation that classic literature like Moby Dick and Age of Innocence are really pretentious crap, and that popular works such as Twilight and The Da Vinci Code are what’s truly relevant.
It’s a great premise and setup, but one that Zacarias never fully delivers upon. Early on, it has the feel of great satire, capable of doing for book clubs what Christopher Guest movies like Spinal Tap or Waiting for Guffman (which brilliantly sent up rock bands and community theater respectively) did for those subcultures. In the second act, The Book Club Play slowly devolves into a sitcom level of creativity, which is disappointing for a gifted comic playwright like Zacarias, whose Native Gardens was clever, thoughtful and hilarious (it made my list of favorites in 2018, and Gloucester Stage is also now doing a production of it.) Which isn’t to say it isn’t funny. As a matter of fact it’s very funny, aided greatly by a cast comprised of what my friend referred to as a veritable All-Star team of Boston small/fringe theater actors who individually and collectively shine even when the material begins to falter. It’s also great to look at, as Jeffrey Petersen deserves kudos for his terrific set design of Ana and Rob’s living room.
Because it’s funny and the performances are so good, I can recommend it, but as a former comedy writer myself, I couldn’t help but lament for what could have been, given how ripe for satire the book club culture remains. It’s just too bad Zacarias didn’t bring her “authentic self” to the writing table long enough to let the material live up to this intriguing premise. For tickets and information, go to: http://www.bu.edu/bpt/
