Theatre in Review: The Spoils (The New Group/Pershing Square Signature Center)

	Jesse Eisenberg, Kunal Nayyar. Photo Monique Carboni

Will there ever come a time when Jesse Eisenberg doesn't cast himself as a basket case? Maybe so, but right now there's The Spoils, which adds the most etched-in-acid portrait yet to his gallery of hapless, hopeless boy-men. In previous Eisenberg works, like Asuncion and The Revisionist, he has cast himself as characters who were needy, narcissistic, or self-destructive; Ben, the protagonist of The Spoils, is all three. The disaffected son of an upper-middle-class Jewish family from New Jersey, he occupies, on his father's dime, a glossy, glassy Manhattan apartment, where he pretends to be a bohemian filmmaker while sitting around getting stoned. It's a pose so ludicrous that even he knows it -- it's as if Mark, the filmmaker from Rent, suddenly moved into a deluxe apartment in the sky -- and his attempts at justifying it are feeble at best. "I film whatever life presents to me and put it together in a new kind of art form that doesn't yet have a name," he says. All right, but ask to see his work, and he'll mumble something about it being entered in a film festival and there's no other copy.

Ben is an accident waiting to happen, a train headed right off the rails; he's sensitive, perceptive, and paralyzed with self-loathing, which evidences itself in 57 varieties of passive-aggressive behavior. His only connection with the outside world is Kalyan, a Nepalese business student at NYU. More of a companion-for-hire than a roommate -- Ben doesn't charge him rent -- Kalyan is naturally righteous, a serious student and attentive boyfriend to Reshma, a young medical intern who worries that he may be too good for her. (He has even written a perceptive study of the forces impinging on Nepal's economy, which, according to Ben, in a typical backhanded compliment, makes him "the Harry Potter of Nepal.")

Kalyan and Ben make for a kind of new wave odd couple; they're an ideal comedy team, each amusingly casting a stark light on the other's personality. Busily denouncing the "f---ing assholes" at NYU's film school, he says, "I'm sorry to put down NYU. I know you're still happy there." "Well, they didn't throw me out," replies Kalyan. When Ben runs into Ted, his loathed friend from childhood, and Ted suggests they get together for drinks, Ben says, "What kind of bourgeois bullshit is that? 'Get together for drinks.' You never hear someone in the Democratic Republic of the f---ing Congo ask someone to 'get together for drinks.'" "Especially 'cause there's a drought," notes Kalyan. When Kalyan objects to Ben's behavior in front of Reshma, Ben replies, "Good cop, bad cop. I'm a dick, and you look awesome by comparison. Which are you are, anyway, so I was just illuminating the truth of our dynamic."

That dynamic is put to the test when Ben learns to his horror that Ted is engaged to Sarah, the girl Ben has loved from afar since grade school. Of course, this being Ben, he must confess to Kalyan the bizarre sexual dream about Sarah, involving extreme bodily functions, that has haunted him for years. Just to stir the pot, Ben invites Ted over for, yes, drinks, and then puts together a little party for himself, Ted, Sarah, Kalyan, and Reshma. It goes wildly wrong, with Ben, cast as the fifth wheel, going into a decline, and the two couples happily bonding while discussing their jobs and ambitions. Ben's attempts at steering the conversation back to him repeatedly fall flat. (It particularly galls him that Sarah teaches disadvantaged children and Reshma has save lives in the ER.) After one outburst, he says, "I think I had a bad childhood when I was younger." "No, you didn't," says Sarah. "I was there."

The sharp social comedy of the first act turns harrowing after intermission when Kalyan, eager to find a job to keep him in New York, undergoes a brutal, humiliating interview at Ted's firm, and Ben, on the basis of no encouragement whatsoever, tries to steal Sarah away from Ted. It involves his most brazen tactic yet: Kalyan, hoping to give Ben inspiration for his film, had previously described a street scene he witnessed involving a homeless man, a dog, and its wealthy female owner. Ben has denounced it as hopelessly clichéd, but, at the dinner party, trying to impress Sarah, pretends that he has filmed it. Then he hires actors and stages the scene, presenting it to Sarah as evidence of his art. This encounter ends in disaster in short order -- she can't help pointing out that documentaries rarely involve multiple camera setups -- setting the stage for a confrontation between Ben and Kalyan that climaxes in an unspeakably cruel act.

Eisenberg's point of view is as stiletto-sharp as ever, but the five characters of The Spoils provide him with a broader canvas, allowing for a much more shaded view of their souls. And even as he spreads mayhem in his wake, Ben keeps a solid hold on our interest, if only to see him get the comeuppance he so richly deserves. Scott Elliott's keenly observed direction is a major help in this department, as are the performances. Eisenberg's Ben is a cat's cradle of nerve endings, each of them stretched to the breaking point; even lying prone, he looks taut as a cornered animal. He delivers his lines faster than a telegraph spitting out Morse code, and expressions run across his face as if in flight for their lives. Kunal Nayyar's relaxed way with a wisecrack makes him a perfect scene partner as Kalyan. He also has fun with some of Kalyan's more OCD qualities, including his penchant for giving PowerPoint presentations for everything -- including a guide to Nepalese food at that dinner party. He is most touching in defeat after that bad interview, and when the time comes to stand up for himself, he does so with conviction.

Erin Darke is excellent as Sarah, whose niceness is not to be confused with weakness. Her sheer bafflement at finding herself the object of Ben's bizarre, and thoroughly unappealing proposal is beautifully done, as is the moment when, as if speaking to a small child, she explains to Ben that she loves Ted "because he loves me back, in a mature way." Annapurna Sriram is also fine as Reshma, who thinks she loves Kalyan but fears he may not be up to life in the shark tank of Manhattan finance. Michael Zegen finds the appealing side of Ted, who has happily awakened to find himself "in New York City, where all the kids are rich and no one can figure out how."

Derek McLane's apartment setting is thoroughly of the moment, complete with the floor-to-ceiling windows; it occurred to me that we could be looking at a facsimile of a unit MIMA, the luxury residence that rises over the Pershing Square Signature Center. Peter Kaczorowski's lighting adds touches of color to go along with various sunset and sunrise looks. Susan Hilferty's costumes strike strong stylistic differences between Sarah and Reshma, and also contrast Ben's T-shirt and jeans with Ted and Kalyan's more put-together wardrobes. Rob Milburn and Michael Bodeen's sound design offers a number of evocative ambient acoustic effects, but are the songs of Billy Joel really the right choice for a set of characters in their mid-twenties?

It's safe to say The Spoils is Eisenberg's best play yet, and not just because, when Ben hits rock bottom, he brings back Sarah and Ted to suggest that he may be salvageable after all. He is still a master at creating characters who are their own worst enemies, but his vision has broadened without sacrificing his zest for scalding wisecracks and truly awful behavior. Ben may not be able to love himself, but his creator has found a way to make him an object of real interest. -- David Barbour