2ST’s “Cult of Love” & MTC’s “Eureka Day” Clash Hard, Electric, and True on Broadway – front mezz junkies, Theater News

The Broadway Theatre Review: Cult of Love & Eureka Day

By Ross

Christmas lights on a Christmas tree, backed by some banjo and guitar, set up a sing-along family battle to the floor in Leslye Headland’s sharp, solid, and funny Cult of Love, a holiday smackdown of familial proportions that throws bitter bell ringing into the triggering fire. It’s a blazingly on fire Christmas classic, filled to overflowing with mental health issues, homophobia, addiction, support, and some pretty hefty familial denial wrapped up magnificently. Staged at an epic level of almost every part of this family’s existential crisis, and as played out strongly on the 2nd Stage Broadway theatre, this well-crafted battle, directed with a sure-footedness by Trip Cullman (MTC Broadway’s Choir Boy), rages forward, and the overly Christian songs get played out in perfect unison, reminding us all about the Christmas spirit, and the unity that some of us dread this time of year.

Another Broadway battle is also taking place in a sunnier climate, also around familial triggering and existential debate in Jonathan Spector’s clever and sharply written new play, Eureka Day, directed solidly by Anna D. Shapiro (Broadway’s The Minutes) over on the Manhattan Theatre Club‘s Broadway stage. Eureka Day refers to a progressive private school in Oakland, California where a set-up arrangement is taking place for a five-person executive board meeting, headed by the always captivating Bill Irwin (off-Broadway’s On Beckett) as Don, the leader of the school and this meeting. Sitting on small chairs meant for children in a small sunny library filled with donated books and posters celebrating progressive artists and leaders like Maya Angelou and Michelle Obama, the gathering has many agendas to unpack, with one drop-down discussion, brought forth by the passionately energized Eli, played to nervous perfection by Thomas Middleditch (HBO’s “Silicon Valley“), that initially fills the space as they try, as the school mandate agreement states, to find consensus, rather than a majority-rules voting process. Sounds great, right?

The clap-happy music, delivered well by composers and sound designers Rob Milburn & Michael Bodeen (Broadway’s No Man’s Land), perfectly fits on the shelves of this well-designed, completely welcoming space, crafted by Todd Rosenthal (Broadway’s Straight White Men) with detailed lighting by Jen Schriever (Broadway’s Mother Play). Consensus also feels like the perfect formula for this formulation, where language is used specifically for conflict avoidance, where deeper learning can happen in this cute safe holding space. Or so they believe. Overwhelming the room with “in my personal experience” deferential language, written expertly by Spector (This Much I Know), Eureka Day finds its stance in the unique framings of the others that sit in that semi-circle of compassionate avoidance, like the perfectly formed Suzanne, played to overly material perfection by the always compelling Jessica Hecht (MTC Broadway’s Summer, 1976), the composed Carina, beautifully portrayed by Amber Gray (Broadway’s Hadestown), and the complicated anxiousness of Meiko, captivatingly played by Chelsea Yakura-Kurtz (Netflix’s “Mr. Harrigan’s Phone“).

The cast is as well crafted as the play itself, all dynamically costumed by Clint Ramos (Broadway’s Maybe Happy Ending). The “that’s not who I am” language is, at times, tedious and distancing, until, of course, the focal point of this formulation is unveiled. A wee hint is dropped in casually within minutes of the first 2018-2019 school year meeting, a prompt that is later picked up and thrown out at us for optimal effect. We file that time frame mainly because of its specificity to the world, taking us back to a moment when COVID meant nothing, nor did we have any inkling what a virus could do to our daily lives and community. That framing was about to change with a sneaky little bug-reveal about a third of the way through this one-act wonder.

What comes floating in, most deliberately and fascinatingly, is an outbreak of the mumps at this small school known for its open-minded embrace of all those formulated mindsets and belief structures, including being carefree about whether to vaccinate or not. With heavenly opaque body language and perfectly matched delivery by Gray’s Carina and Hecht’s Suzanne as the centrifugal force that may upend the false sense of unity this school seems to cherish, the debate quickly begins to rage strong, with twists and emotional turns around the ideas of vaccinations, both pro and con. The “community-activated” dialogue dives in with full force, leaving no stone or theory unturned and thrown forward. “I’ll send the link!” she states, loudly, but not loud enough for anyone to accuse her of losing her cool or being rude. Still, other aspects of financial gifts and power also find their way into the mix, bypassing somewhat the left-out and complex Meiko until she is required later on.

The online “comments” postings scene, with solid projection design by David Bengali (Broadway’s Water for Elephants), distracts for a bit too long, playing into stereotypes almost too easily. We watch intently as the conversation devolves quickly into name-calling and fascist remarks. It’s a no-surprise hiccup that is needed to unearth an idea of self-importance and intolerance inside the concept of ultra-tolerance. But that scene doesn’t quite take us anywhere, and goes on a bit too long, inflaming tension but not unveiling anything that we don’t already know.

But Spector holds the hilarious and conflictual balance to great effect for the most part beyond this background distraction, finding layers of sharp meaning inside misguided or well-meaning statements of unity through consensus. Every actor is given a moment of compelling truth to unpack, with the force of the play hanging on the strong capable shoulders of Gray and Hecht. Those two deliver their well-mannered punches deliberately and with a pointed sense of purpose, holding their ground against an astounding force of fervor. The play couldn’t be more timely, particularly because of the insane nomination of anti-vaxer cult-follower RFK to lead the nation’s health department. It feels like America might be doomed, medically, emotionally, and structurally (to say the least), just like the school, but Eureka Day finds its way to clap-happy the vax debate forward with solid intent and intelligent reframing. Quick note, the alteration that happens on those bookshelves as the play comes to a dynamic close (registered by my companion, not by me) is a smart well-thought-out detail, that says everything you need to know about the donor and the play. And I could not have been more pleased that he caught it and gave it to me as a surprise gift.

Cult of Love, the new very funny play sharply crafted by Headland (The Layover), is also about the clash of cult thinking. This time it’s inside a friction-filled family dynamic gathering together for a traditional (to the max) Christmas fired up around religion, dismissal, denial, and a type of love that feels as uncomfortable as the symbolic framing of those religious songs sung by all and backed by more instruments that one can imagine being in one household. I’m not sure I would stay if I was one of those partners of the four siblings who have returned to their childhood home for the holidays. They seem to have a far greater tolerance for passive-aggressive jabs and homophobia than I do, but as they wait, hungry and frustrated, for the final sibling to arrive, the flames of their conflictual interpersonal engagements are slowly lit, one at a time, in sharply defined igniting statements that border on hatred, but stay somewhat polite in a more subtle manner that is equally disturbing.

Etched in familial bonding and toxic religious fever layered with denial and unacceptance, Cult of Love unpacks volumes of said and unsaid binding behavior and belief structures, powered by a feeling of family that made my skin crawl, somewhat. The parents, played captivatingly by David Rasche (HBO’s “Succession“) and the always dependable Mare Winningham (Broadway’s Girl From the North Country), have slow-baked a feeling of binding engagement that, at first feels innocuous, but slowly reveals itself inside the hateful things these religious characters can freely say to one another. The members of this group of siblings; the eldest son, Mark, played fascinatingly by Zachary Quinto (West End’s Best of Enemies), the older sister, Evie, strongly embodied by Rebecca Henderson (MCC’s Moscow X6), the youngest sister, pregnant Diana, dynamically portrayed by Shailene Woodley (“Big Little Lies“), and the final late arrival, young Johnny, intelligently played by Christopher Sears (59E59’s Only Yesterday), are compelled to be there, year after year, even though their own agendas and their partners, for the most part, seem activated and uncomfortable by the musical and emotional stylings of this family.

They harmonize quite beautifully, even if the songs bring up some solid questions from within, such as “Mom, why are old men marrying virgins?“, only to be waved off by Winningham’s Mother Ginny in the same way she bypasses any uncomfortable issues the involve her children. This is when the harmony of the family ceases to be engaged with and openly discussed. She denies her daughter, Evie’s sexuality in the same casual indifference she exhibits and vocalizes about Mark stepping away from Christianity and embracing Law School, even when both truths are pointed out by their partners; Mark’s wife Rachel, played majestically by a very good Molly Bernard (NYTW’s House Plant), and, my personal savior, Pippa, Evie’s new wife, played to absolute perfection by Roberta Colindrez (Public’s Hamlet). Bernard’s Rachel is a spectacular creation, attempting to hold her head high against an onslaught that would cripple anyone else, including myself.

Mother Ginny also doesn’t acknowledge Johnny’s addiction and all the work he is trying to do to stay sober, including bringing along Loren, played captivatingly by Barbie Ferreira (HBO’s “Euphoria“), to help him navigate the unpleasant pleasantries of the family. “You get used to it,” one of the outsiders said to Pippa about the disturbing things said casually to one another, but I don’t know if I could, to be honest. Ferreira’s Loren is a strongly crafted bastion of solidness against all the destructive behavior that occurs around her, noting the way she is treated by the family in comparison to the lesbian daughter’s wife. The takeaway dessert gifting is particularly striking.

Colindrez’s Pippa is the one soul in that hodgepodge of passive-aggressive distrust and disgruntlement that I completely felt aligned and engaged with. Her Pippa radiates an emotional presence distancing herself from their cultlike involvement in the sing-song moments and the horrid way she is not embraced like the straight women in this family unit, even when the unions they represent don’t seem to be as solidly caring or loving as theirs. She also carries a big secret, but holds it tight against the negativity that spills out from her wife’s parents and from the venomous Diana and her preacher husband James, played with clarity by Christopher Lowell (“The Help“), towards their sexuality and marriage. Spending Christmas with the Dahls for the first time, and possibly the last if Pippa (or I) have a big enough say in the matter, Pippa finds clear focus internally as she flips through pages in a magazine, pretending not to be a part of this messy dynamic, and we wonder why Evie is allowing this overall mistreatment (by staying/returning), of herself, her wife, and their union.

Played out strongly on a one-unit livingroom set, designed impeccably by John Lee Beatty (Broadway’s Sweat), with solid costuming by Sophia Choi (Broadway’s KPOP), subtle lighting by Heather Gilbert (Broadway’s Parade), and a layered sound design by Darron L. West (NYTW’s Sing Street), Cult of Love finally gets to the unwrapping that has been waiting in the wings, and upstairs, to fully spin out into the room. And it all lives inside Woodley’s brave and captivating portrayal of the youngest daughter, Diana, the one who sprouts Christian platitudes in free-floating abundance. We, the audience, have been primed to see her through one kind of lens, hating her for her callous side remarks and outright judgment of all those around her who aren’t as devote as she and her husband are. But that stance unravels faster and more furious than any of us saw coming, and in the familial response, we understand something on a whole different level.

If that wasn’t enough, the whole family, in unison, finds it difficult to approach Ginny’s solid refusal to discuss her husband, Bill’s failing mental health, but that’s no surprise for this family fueled by oblivious denial and distraction by song. As long as there are instruments lying around ready to be played, and an odd ultra-religious Christmas song to be sung, all the complicated issues of the family fade away. It’s clear why Ginny does this, but the one that made me the most uncomfortable was Evie, who would let so much slide off her shoulders so she could join in with the chorus. This was the most disturbing, but the move to embrace over standing up for one’s self inside the family dynamic, as religious as this one pretends to be, is the fire that burns in the background. Controlling it keeps everything pretty and warm, but if it jumps out from its rightful place, the whole house and all it stands for might just burn itself down to the ground. And I’d applaud that as strongly as I did for the cast of pros.

This is the framing that adds textual layers that resonate, in both of these plays. But no matter how hard you play by the rules, and say all the things in the right polite way, one must stand up for what one believes in, regardless of the consensus. Both pack a powerful punch, with laughs galore weaved inside each destructive framing. Both are uncomfortable, like a grown adult trying to speak cohesively while sitting in a child’s plastic colorful chair, or adult children singing religious songs that don’t exactly align with their own moral codes. Happy Christmas, one could say, as we all have just survived the season, with many swallowing stances down hard to avoid burning down the house (or school) they grew up in.