Next Act has always prided itself on being close to the cutting edge; a “thinking-person’s theater,” as some have called it. Well, audiences at Microcrisiswill certainly leave with a lot to think about. In fact, they may leave with their heads spinning. This satire on America’s corporate system and the global economy pulls no punches.
Unlike Rich Orloff’s Big Boys, (which was included in Next Act’s 2011 season), there are no one-liners or scenes of playful buffoonery. Mike Lew’s Microcrisis is a comedy that makes a deadly serious statement about “how things work” and the people who “run things,” such as the nation’s bankers, the Security and Exchange Commission members, and computer geeks. When one unscrupulous banker is threatened with dismissal, he utters a grating comeback: “Go ahead and fire me. I have a fat golden parachute.” Such statements are not about to endear themselves to an audience’s hearts.
Unfortunately, to fully appreciate this play, one needs the acronym-spewing skill of TV’s Jim Cramer. At least for this observer, all the rapid-fire financial chatter about CPOs, UIG, MBS, etc., left me in the dust. Unless your professional background includes finance or accounting, you might struggle with some of the dialogue.
At least it’s easy to follow the plot. A small, non-profit business, called Citizen Lend, was created to assist impoverished business owners around the world with small loans. The loans are backed by donations from generous, Ivy League graduates. Lydia, a 19-year-old college intern, minds the store at the firm’s branch in Ghana, Africa. However, once this New Age-style business is detected by a major corporate bank, it is headed for disaster.
An evil banker (David Cecsarini) smells opportunity and goes in for the kill. At first, the naïve Lydia (Alexandra Bonesho) resists his takeover scheme. But all it takes is an all-expense paid trip to Monaco and a fistful of cash to change her mind.
Meanwhile, there’s a geeky Harvard student who can’t seem to tear his eyes away from his laptop. Young entrepreneur Randy (Michael Cotey) is the owner of a company that sponsors Citizen Lend. But even he falls under the evil banker’s spell. Unlike Lydia, all it takes to woo Randy is the prospect of owning stock in his soon-to-become public company.
As debts pile up without proper collateral in place, Citizen Lend collapses. The company’s failure sends shock waves through stock markets around the world. If this sounds familiar to the 2008 economic meltdown, it should.
As Bennett, the banker, David Cecsarini is the epitome of greed and selfishness. He knows how to kiss up to his former boss when requesting a (probably illegal) favor. He’s willing to grovel and lie if it means he’ll prosper in the end. The masterful Cecsarini is responsible for keeping the play in motion, which is a trickier task than it seems. As evil personified, Cecsarini is a lot of fun to watch. By contrast, Alexandra Bonesho gives a one-note performance. She falls short on projecting her character’s transformation from innocent schoolgirl to a financial viper. As Randy, the geeky Harvard student, Michael Cotey seems completely in his element.
Some minor characters also make noteworthy contributions. A well-intentioned Latina school teacher (Erica Cruz Hernandez) tries to resist Citizen Lend’s telemarketers, but she eventually caves to the pitch. John Kishline is memorable in several roles, especially as an arrogant, potty-mouthed SEC official. Lee Palmer, who likewise is cast in multiple roles, especially shines as a Ghanian small business owner.
Under the helm of exceptionally talented director Edward Morgan, the play proceeds at racquetball speed. Rick Rasmussen’s superb set design combines overlapping panels decorated with oversized sections of US currency. Overhead, a set of digital display panels keep the audience up to speed on Bennett’s whereabouts. The costumes “make the man,” as they say, whether it’s the banker’s stylish suit or Lydia’s college intern garb.
Microcrisis may not be suited for folks in search of light comedy, but its biting satire is an indictment of those who brought the U.S. economy to its knees.
