Theatre in Review: Straight (Theatre Row)

	Thomas E. Sullivan, Jake Epstein. Photo: Matthew Murphy

Straight, the play, is rather like Ben, its protagonist -- all talk and no action. Well, there is a fair amount of action in Straight, if you know what I mean; the costume designer, Michael McDonald, must have spent most of his time shopping for underwear. But just as Ben talks a good game when whichever of his two lovers happens to be on hand, the authors work to create a potentially juicy situation, then punts just as it is about to get good.

Ben is a 26-year-old investment banker living in Boston. He has always been one of the guys -- hanging out with the bros, watching sports on TV, and spending time with his long-term girlfriend. Then why, as the lights come up, is he sitting nervously on the couch with Chris, a Boston College student, just six months shy of legal drinking age, who is eyeing him with undisguised anticipation? As it happens, they met on line, and Chris is the more comfortable, and aggressive, of the two. The director, Andy Sandberg, is very good at mining humor from every false start and conversational dead end that marks this oh-so-awkward situation -- especially when Emily, whom Ben has been seeing for six years, calls up and he has to pretend that he is at the office, working late. But Chris proves to be a subtle seducer, and soon the two men are enthusiastically going at it.

Next we meet Emily, who is pretty, pert, and involved in researching genetics and cancer in mice, hoping to land a tenure-track academic position. She and Ben seem perfect for each other, except for his eternal skittishness about their moving in together, a stance that we understand far more clearly than she does. There are plenty of alarm bells being rung, including his excessive reaction to her discovery that one of her colleagues is gay -- "You're defining him," he says, accusingly, with a passion that is surprisingly personal. She doesn't even get it when he "jokingly" tells her he's gay. "You do openly weep at Pixar movies," she says. But clearly she's not getting the big picture.

Most of Straight follows this antiphonal structure, with a scene of Ben and Chris becoming more and more involved with each other followed by one of Ben deftly keeping Emily at a distance. The playwrights, Scott Elmegreen and Drew Fornarola, are pretty good at bright dialogue: Ben amusingly explains to Chris that bankers are only "medium smart...enough to figure out how to sell imaginary products all day long but not enough to grasp they they're totally imaginary." Ben also has an interesting speech defending his fence-sitting attitude, noting that "in our culture, or whatever, the only way to be gay is to be all-the-way gay," adding, "A guy is straight by default. If he does something with another guy, he goes over to gay, and that's it, everything attached." This passage is deftly written, revealing Ben's rational argument as an unconscious expression of self-loathing. And, as Ben and Chris start to explore intimacy, and Emily, in her sweet way, becomes more demanding, Straight seems to be headed in the direction of major dramatic fireworks. This is especially so when Emily shows up late one Sunday morning to find the two men passed out on the couch. She assumes they've spent the night boozing (correct) and watching ESPN (incorrect), and, over a discussion of brunch, Chris engages Emily in a discussion of nature vs. nurture in the development of human traits, thoroughly riding Ben's nerves in the process.

But, in order to maintain the play's symmetrical structure, the playwrights have to flatten out the characters, depriving us of the details that would let us really know them. We have little idea of the forces that have shaped Ben, why he is so driven by shame, and, more disturbingly, why he believes he can live in some eternal present, taking from Chris and Emily without giving anything in return. Chris' character is largely left unexplored: All we know is that he is Catholic and not out of the closet, either, having been dating girls as recently as the year before. Most of the time, the actors in Straight are far more interesting than the people they play. Jake Epstein captures the fear that lurks behind Ben's smile, exposing just enough vulnerability to keep us from dismissing him as a cruel manipulator. Thomas E. Sullivan, a recent NYU graduate, fleshes out Chris' provocative, thrill-seeking side and the deeper confusion underneath; whether he is "acting gay" to irritate Ben, finding himself lost in a conversation with Emily that goes further than he really wants, or tentatively seeking tenderness from his lover, he is easily the most compelling character on stage. Jenna Gavigan's Emily is such an open-hearted charmer that you almost feel protective of her, knowing that her relationship with Ben can only end in disaster.

Sandberg cannily exposes as many revelatory moments as the script will allow, and he employs some clever staging ideas, such as a scene change during which a kiss between Ben and Chris is replaced by one between Ben and Emily. The rest of the production is slickly professional, including Charlie Corcoran's attractive blue-gray apartment interior, McDonald's character-specific costumes, Grant Yeager's subtle lighting, and Alex Hawthorn's sound, which provides attractive amplification for Will Van Dyke's incidental music.

Just as it looks as if the situation must break wide open, however, the authors throw in a twist that earns a gasp from the audience, but which, frustratingly, leaves far too many plot points dangling. We have spent enough time with these characters that it's impossible not to want some kind of full reckoning, a moment when all the lies and evasions are finally swept aside. That doesn't happen: All I can tell you is that, once again, Ben leaves everyone hanging, including himself -- and us. -- David Barbour