MCC Theater’s “Shit. Meet. Fan.” Plays a Dangerous Game Well But Wanting – front mezz junkies, Theater News

The Off-Broadway Theatre Review: MCC Theater’s Shit. Meet. Fan.

By Ross

“Let’s play a game,” she says to their gaggle of friends with a casual giddiness that in a way feels true, but also contains an edge that feels sly and seditious. But will they actually do this? Because the idea is somewhat crazy, and even we know the game is a dangerous one, sure to light a few uncontrollable flames in their furnaces. That’s a basic premise of MCC Theater‘s intoxicatingly fierce and funny Shit. Meet. Fan. now getting a starry off-Broadway run that is sure to raise a few eyebrows. Based loosely on Paolo Genovese’s 2016 Italian film “Perfect Strangers“, they make their way, mostly two by two, into the lux livingroom of the hosting couple, played to brittle perfection by Neil Patrick Harris (Broadway’s Hedwig…) and Jane Krakowski (Broadway’s She Loves Me).

The tension is already apparent, once their somewhat sexually awakened daughter, Sam, played by Genevieve Hannelius (Netflix’s “Along for the Ride“), vacates the premises to go hang with her friend for the evening. Sam’s parents, the biting Eve and Rodger snip at one another, casually but with significance, over almost every topic delivered forth. Even, or especially about the fact that they have invited Rodger’s fraternity brothers over for a viewing of the eclipse from their high-end Brooklyn apartment terrace. Each brings their wives, except for one, Logan, played strongly by Tramell Tillman (CSC’s Carmen Jones). He arrives on his own, unexpectedly. Logan had promised they would all meet his new girlfriend at this small gathering of friends, mostly affluent, pretty much exclusively white, but she, Logan tells them, has a fever – just a fever – and has decided to stay home.

They are somewhat suspicious, but accept the excuse, moving on quickly to talking about another frat brother, who is in the middle of a messy divorce, brought on by a text seen by his wife on his phone. The text was explicit, and made it crystal clear that he is and was having an affair with a much younger woman. It’s a scandalous affair, especially now that he’s living with the woman. So it’s now three couples, heterosexual and married, and one unmarried man, and the only Black person in the group, gathering together for drinks and moon gazing in fraternal brotherhood. But Krakowski’s Eve is inspired to throw a curve ball into the arena. And it’s a doozy.

She suggests they play a game, inspired by their divorcing friends, for reasons unknown. Eve suggests they all place their mobile phones on the table, and whenever any of the devices make a beep, chime, squawk, or ding, they will either read the text out loud for the group or answer every call that comes in on speakerphone. Some don’t want to play, mostly along gendered lines, but their spouses look at them with suspicion. Do you have something to hide, they ask? Of course, they all say they don’t, but we know in our hearts of hearts, that almost everyone in the room has a few secrets and probably a few lies up their sleeves, some may have already been told to the room filled with friends. Now we all will just have to wait and see what untruths lie electronically in the shadows waiting to jump into the room and take a big bite out of someone’s faith and trust. Fun, right?

We all know this is the worst of ideas. Right up there with sneaking on to your partner’s computer or phone. Cause we are only opening up suspicion, and never closing the book. So we wonder, what is Eve thinking? What does she have on her mind to propose this game? And for what purpose? This is a question that hangs around unanswered clouding the play and blocking the view of the eclipse if we ponder it too much. We also understand why no one just says no, especially as the ‘boys’ line up and the ‘girls’ watch and wait. The lines are drawn almost instantly, framing it in a great metaphoric comparison between PCs and Macs that registers.

And we don’t have to wait long before the phones start ringing, ushering in complications and conflicts that spark fires with this pack of vultures leaning in like “a gang of shits“. Each of the characters gets their wildfire moment to dig into partnered with some form of denial and/or defensiveness. Brett and Claire, played with a sharply defined messiness by Garret Dillahunt (Broadway’s The Father) and Debra Messing (RTC Broadway’s Birthday Candles), have more than their share of battles to be waged, but we also see that boiling pot on the verge of overflowing from the moment they walk in. Frank and Hannah, played deliciously well by Michael Oberholtzer (2ST’s Take Me Out) and Constance Wu (“Crazy Rich Asians“), are newlyweds who overflow with sexual chemistry. But we can also tell from the get-go, that their combustible energy will be the spark for their fire in one way, shape, or form. And we aren’t disappointed by any of it. Nor are we that surprised, initially, until we are, again and again, right up until the very last bejeweled scene.

Tillman’s Logan is the outlier of the group, in more ways than we can imagine, although his energy is always bordering on something hidden. He and Wu’s Hannah bond quietly over in the corner about the comraderie they feel being the only POC in the finely appointed room, and the place looks great thanks to the exacting work done by scenic designer Clint Ramos (Broadway’s Here Lies Love), lighting designer Alex Jainchill (Public’s A Raisin in the Sun), and sound designer Palmer Hefferan (Broadway’s Just For Us), paired with perfectly crafted costuming by Sarafina Bush (Broadway’s The Outsiders). But it’s Logan’s story that twists things around and back again most compellingly near the end, and as written and directed by Robert O’Hara (Mankind), Shit. Meet. Fan. finds delight and disturbance in the many fires that are ignited inside that room, some more authentic than others.

Some serious racial and sexual repression paired with dishonesty ring out and bounce around the room hitting each with almost clocklike precision, which feels a tad forced and obvious. But we buy in to the game, mainly because of their strong delivery and full speed delivery. The pack of friends is forced to deal with the somewhat obvious litany of lies and deceptions, as if O’Hara is checking off boxes on both characters and sins just around the corner in the other room, but the talented crew of actors makes it all work, with quick subtle formulations that sometimes, if you blink, you can almost miss a jeweled deceit or a switchback lie being played out sharply on either level. They find the laughs inside the gut punches, and give us all a ridiculous dance break that feels oddly formulaic, pointing out the lurking disconnections most awkwardly.

“Leave it! We’re playing!” But the game is not fun, and no one is enjoying it. So why continue ? That question is the one thing that lingers uncomfortably in the foreground. Why would they not stop the game, or leave when the game slips so quickly into some pretty serious plot twists. There isn’t the power seed dynamic that exists in the more focused Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? that keep the uncomfortable duo glued to their seats. Some of these secrets and lies are pretty profound and disturbing, but they remain, returning to the bar for more and more alcohol, probably to dull their pained senses and blur reality. We see things between friends and lovers that are sharp and shocking, played out in secret, but then discarded and forgotten when interrupted. The ending is supposed to tie it all up, but it left me wondering about those postcards from the edge that get tossed off the balcony with one quick reformation. Shit. Meet. Fan. keeps us engaged and entertained, laughing in our own discomfort, but bewildered at times by the glue that holds them together. Surprised by the twists and turns, the overall creation left me wanting, even as I leaned in for more. For what, I’m not entirely sure, but waiting and wanting nonetheless.