REVIEW: Babbitt (Shakespeare Theatre Company)
It’s a bit of a Broadway Blockbuster ‘round Gallery Place these days.
STC Artistic Director Simon Godwin’s wealth of connections seems to be doing wonders for the place. The industrious production of Scottish Play this past spring was a hit, and a recently-extended Comedy of Errors with Alex Brightman and David Fynn headlining is routinely selling out. Not to be limited by only one of their two houses being packed with starry-eyed DC audiences, the downtown stalwart has upped the ante with a buzzy co-production of Babbitt with San Diego’s La Jolla Playhouse opening tonight at the Harman. This adaptation of Sinclair Lewis’ opus is penned by Joe DiPietro (Tony, Memphis), directed by Christopher Ashley (Tony, Come from Away), and stars Matthew Broderick, Judy Kaye, Ali Stroker, and Ann Harada (5 awards between them, and even more nominations).
While there’s things that can be said about the “Broadwayzation” of DC theatre, especially in regards of the propensity of local hiring practices, it’s nonetheless always exciting to feature internationally-renowned stage talent. But this makes it easier to buy into the hype for better or for worse.
Book
Lewis’ original 1922 work was a controversial assault on the nature of conformity, told via the perspective of George F. Babbitt, a White everyman in Zenith, Somewhere, USA. So popular it was as a proto-banned book that it was awarded the Nobel Prize, and even sprung the concept of a “Babbitt” into the American lexicon (allegedly— it might be my age, but I’ve never heard anyone call anything that.) This adaptation seems to take away some of the key elements, but adding something of a “plot”, which the original text famously doesn’t provide much of. Think: new characters added, old ones removed, and dry, early-era talkie humor. For the uninitiated, or those who did not read this in high school: we follow Babbitt as he sines between radically “centrist” white-collar worker to captalist xenophobe, to red-blooded labor organizer, and back over the course of about two years as he searches for greater meaning in life, accompanied by his ever-alientated nuclear family and deep-end-leaping best friend. Despite the changes, the leathery result still ends without saying much. Much of what this book had to say in 1922 has been said: its flailing takes on conformity, shallow jabs at Republican politics, and finale that puts us right back where we started. If the book bores you to tears, this may be a good sparknotes for it— albeit a pricey one. 3/10
Acting
The material’s lack of depth therefore means smaller bites for the sheer talent to take on, especially as most of them are reduced to either chucked-aside side elements or meager narrators. Broderick, in all his stage time, certainly says his lines, often with humor — but there’s an emptiness afoot when you know his true ceiling as a performer. Also unfairly squeezed into their frames are Ann Harada and Ali Stroker, two of my favorite actresses around. (But they remain joyous to see do anything onstage, so I’ll take it.) Good news? Local talent shines: Nehal Joshi is a hoot as Storyteller #2/Paul Riesling. (He’s certainly among the best of the Nationally-Advertised Brands.) 5/10
Production
Christopher Ashley helms this production, reprising from his stomping grounds at La Jolla. There are bright ideas in play, perhaps too much so; bring sunglasses. Cha See’s blocky lighting is charming, but seldom effective with Walt Spangler’s offensively sterile library set, which features a second tier that is barely used and is constructed in nothing but white. In fact, it seldom drives home an air of societal continuity, but rather a form of dreamlike abstraction not unlike other modern philosophical works. Which is good, mind you — if not misplaced. But we do have Linda Cho’s fun midcentury patterns to pick up the slack, at least. 6/10
Viz
What would a stunt cast be without a large, maiche’d figure of the actor on the front of everything? Shakespeare gets the assignment; walk anywhere within three blocks of their houses without seeing Broderick on some poster (challenge: impossible). Given the weakness of the material, that is its big selling point, which is begrudgingly delivered. The harsh plainness of the set and its effectiveness with informing the audience is up for debate. My side of it? In-. It’s bad enough that the environs are as blinding as they are, but one could at least hope for narrative substance to come out of it. 2/10
Verdict
Babbitt feels like an expensive production of a high school play, limited by its source material and bland production. 16/40
