I did not see Joshua Harmon’s Bad Jews, which by general consensus is said to be his best play to date. But the last three Harmon plays that I did see, Significant Other, Admissions, and the still-running Skintight – it closes August 26th –each one a familiar mixture of comedy and drama that contains everything and the kitchen sink, come across less a play, more a TV sitcom in which the playwright’s comedic hand overrides most everything important that is being said. A shrinking violet Harmon isn’t. Here I am especially thinking of Gideon Glick’s gay character in Significant Other who laments that all of his girlfriends, one by one, are getting married while he is still single, and white teenager Ben Adelman’s 17-minute yowl in Admissions, which deals with racial-quota issues which keep him from being accepted at Harvard. Both of these heartfelt outpourings, as TV sitcoms do, are housed among a plethora of comedic zingers. It is as if several shots of sugar are required to help the medicine go down. Still, bitching and moaning aside, Harmon’s provocative and wonderfully wordily written wailings, emotionally delivered by a major character or two, do give us something to mull over—which is more than most playwright’s have to offer. The star and calling card of Skintight, which gives the play its commercial legs, is Idina Menzel (Rent, Wicked) in her first non-singing role. As Jody Elliot, from her initial entrance which has her arriving unexpectedly on the eve of her long-divorced father’s 70th birthday, till the stage lights go down, Jody plays the diva card. We know that trouble is on its way when her father, who also hates surprises, reminds his daughter (several times at that) that he explicitly told her that he didn’t want to do anything special for his birthday. But for the self-involved, demanding, and annoyingly unsympathetic Jody, whose ugliness is not exactly fun to watch during most of the play, his admonishment falls on deaf ears, as she has her own needs triggered by her 50-year old husband leaving her for a 24-year old spinning instructor, half her age, “with perky tits.” Of course this leads to incessant worrying on Jody’s part, as to her own shelf life. What follows is much talk about youth and beauty, love and lust, coupled with jokes about whether or not she looks her age or needs Botox—all familiar chestnuts thrown into the mix when better ideas are not forthcoming. Also making several appearances throughout is talk of asses and big dicks, the latter of which apparently runs in the family. Shifting focus, Harmon does rescue the play a wee bit by showing Jody’s softer side: her loving, albeit overbearing, relationship with her twenty-year-old son Benjamin Cullen (an intensely believable Eli Gelb) whom she also invites to New York to celebrate her father’s birthday. But this soft side dwindles as her problematic relationship with her father Elliot Issac (nicely played by Jack Wetherall), a Calvin Klein-type fashion mogul, and his newly acquired, mostly monosyllabic, twenty-year-old ex-porn-star lover, interestingly named Trey (Will Brittain), takes center stage. Handsome and well-muscled, Trey ruffles the feathers of everybody in the house, cast and audience alike. Exacerbating the situation for both Benjamin who has problems with his own sexual identity, and Jody who dislikes her father’s partner and makes no bones about it, is Trey’s nonchalant nighttime appearance wearing only a jock strap. This later leads to visual jokes and audience laughter when Jody, realizing she is sitting on the exact spot where the naked Trey placed his butt on the couch earlier, immediately changes her seat. I might add The Couch, where the majority of the play’s most important moments take place, if not exactly a cast member, is the starring piece of furniture in Lauren Helpern’s minimally designed, two-leveled set, the second level leading to numerous bedrooms never seen. As far as background checks, the playwright does supply a slim biographical history for each character, enough to enable the play to slide past without any drain on the brain. Elliot, though retired, is Chairman Emeritus and chief stockholder of his fashion company. He is also supporting Trey whom he met in Florida in high style. Among the high style evidence on view is the $450,000 Rolex that Elliot bought for Trey. Jody is a lawyer working for one of the largest law firms in Los Angeles. She has two sons, her favorite being Benjamin who is gay, self-conscious about his less-than-handsome looks, and is studying Queer Theory in Budapest. While Benji, as his mother affectionately calls him, is interested in his Hungarian roots—the Issacs are originally from Budapest and a few were unable to make it out of Hungry before the Holocaust—Benjamin is also sexually interested in Trey which does not go unnoticed by Jody or Elliot, or, for that matter, Trey. As far as Jody’s soon-to-be ex, he is summed up as a failing and “pretending” almond farmer with two weak knees and lots of hair coming out of his ears. What little we know about Trey is that he now rides a motorcycle, has had a “really rough life,” and participated in porn only in order to eat. He also claims he still makes it with girls. Other than his truly loving Elliot and the lifestyle this affords him, Trey’s early life is left up to our imagination. The most compelling portion of the play, which temporarily obliterates all that comes before, takes place near the very end. Here Elliot and Jody, who has been vehemently against his relationship with Trey to the point of trying to wreck it, go head to head, a showdown so to speak, in which both characters discuss their own take on love and lust. Elliot’s soliloquy and Jody’s response, different sides of the same coin— the take-home message—is worth the price of admission alone. Though both have their points of view (most certainly their respective ages, gender, and cultural norms have a lot to do with this), I have to side with Elliot, as lust, which greases my joints, and has always allowed me to move more freely, both mentally and physically, is my favorite virtue, and I too, like Elliot, “…want to wake up in the morning and smell sex. I want to taste it. I want to see it. I want to touch it. I want to feel it. Sex is life.” This is my story too and I am sticking to it.
