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Theatre in Review: Primary Trust (Roundabout Theatre Company/Laura Pels Theatre)

William Jackson Harper, April Matthis. Photo: Joan Marcus

Is there anything sadder than William Jackson Harper's smile in Primary Trust? To be sure, its wattage is considerable; every time it appears, the stage becomes a brighter place. But it is a piece of defensive armor, a carapace worn by Kenneth, his character, against the scrutiny of a world that might otherwise find him unsettlingly strange. Kenneth has reason for concern: He is one of this world's hidden-in-plain-sight eccentrics, his affable manner calculated to keep everyone at a distance lest they see him too clearly. His sunny demeanor sends a powerful nonverbal message: Everything's fine. Don't come too close. Don't notice me.

Not that Kenneth need worry too much: An orphan in his late thirties, he lives in a small upstate New York town (named Cranberry), working in a used bookstore and spending his nights at Wally's, the local tiki hut, downing innumerable Mai Tais. He is joined there by his best (and only) friend Bert. They have a roaring good time, fueled by gallons of fruity, sugary cocktails. Bert chatters on about his home-improvement plans, and they squabble amusingly over such issues as the necessity of handwashing and the correct way of calculating a tip. Given their nightly get-togethers, one wonders when Bert has time for his wife and children.

As it happens, there's a wrinkle with Bert: "He's imaginary," Kenneth says, a fact that Bert cheerfully confirms. "Not imaginary in the way that you're thinking," Kenneth adds. "More like -- exists only in my head." In any case, he is a constant presence, hovering in the background, offering advice, emotional support, and another round of drinks. Aside from Kenneth, his existence (such as it is) is known only to Sam, the bookstore's owner. "So, listen -- is your friend here?" he asks, before dropping the news that the business is closing, depriving Kenneth of the only job he has ever held.

This is a destabilizing development, to be sure, until Corinna, one of the wait staff at Wally's, suggests that there might be an opening for a teller at a local bank. You might think that an emotional recluse would be a terrible candidate for a people-oriented position, but Kenneth has his well-burnished armor of geniality, which keeps him in the world yet not of it. Soon, he is a star employee, mastering the fine art of cross-selling credit cards and savings accounts, and -- perhaps for the first time -- experiencing something like self-esteem.

But Kenneth's success comes at an unexpected cost: As he gets invited out for drinks with staff and forms a (nonromantic) relationship with Corinna, Bert starts to make himself scarce. No recriminations are involved but, suddenly, Kenneth finds himself truly alone at Wally's. Imaginary or not, his connection to Bert is fundamental to his existence and, without him, panic sets in. By now, we have learned the truth of Bert's genesis, rooted in a story so terrible that the audience receives it in stunned silence. It's an understated gut punch; Harper, speaking in an uninflected voice, his pregnant pauses hinting at realities too heartbreaking for words, lays bare the damage that life has inflicted on Kenneth.

To be sure, playwright Eboni Booth -- author of the accomplished Paris, about conflict behind the scenes as a Home Depot-style big-box store -- hasn't made a fully realized drama out of this situation. Primary Trust is little more than an anecdote that often hovers on the edge of sentimentality; as the play glides to an improbably happy ending, Cranberry, with its friendly faces and kindly businessmen, starts to resemble Bedford Falls, the cozy, Norman Rockwell-ish burg in Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life. But Booth understands something about the oddities that people conceal behind everyday facades, and she mines Kenneth's situation for considerable suspense. His interview with Clay, the bank manager, is an exercise in persistent, low-grade anxiety; his attempt at handling a hostile customer while arguing with Bert cues the moment when his fantasy life spills into the open. Through it all, Harper -- discreetly avoiding the gazes of others, his sentences trailing off into the ether -- lays out, in meticulous detail, the exact dimensions of Kenneth's profound solitude.

Knud Adams, director of English (another play about people fumbling toward, and often failing, to make connections), does equally sensitive work here, avoiding mawkishness and getting stellar work from his cast. Eric Berryman is a watchful, sympathetic presence as Bert, especially when getting an anxious Kenneth to calm himself by counting backward from ten; he always feels like a fully drawn character, not a playwright's device. In addition to expertly playing the sympathetic Corrina, April Matthis offers two mini tour de forces, first as a battery of waiters and waitresses at Wally's and later as a lineup of bank customers; she is particularly hilarious as a little old lady counting out her pennies, one by one, with infuriatingly infinite patience. The great Jay O. Sanders makes a fine pair of father figures as both of Kenneth's bosses and he score big laughs in a quick turn as a French waiter.

Adams has once again partnered to good effect with scenic designer Marsha Ginsberg, who supplies a kind of scale model of the town, complete with the exteriors of the bank, Wally's, and several other buildings. The lovely steepled church onstage is illuminated from within, part of the austere, yet effective, color palette of Isabella Byrd's lighting. Qween Jean's costumes are, as usual, extremely perceptive; note how she transforms the thirtysomething Berryman into the middle-aged Bert. Mikaal Sulaiman's sound design includes a church choir heard in the distance; the production's affecting incidental music is performed live by the composer, Luke Wygodny, on the guitar, keyboard, and cello.

Even if you question some aspects of Primary Trust's finale, you may find yourself relieved by it, if only because Harper has made us so concerned about Kenneth and his fragility. Despite the good work from all hands, the actor is the main event here. Always a reliable stage performer, he graduates to a new status, that of master of his craft. --David Barbour


(26 May 2023)

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