What had happened monthly and then a weekly in the New York theater world is now a daily occurrence. On Monday, Robert O’Hara’s “Sh-t. Meet. Fan.” opened and now another new play about – here we go again! – white straight male privilege in America opened Wednesday, at the Signature Center under the auspices of the New Group and Red Yes Studio.
Jessica Goldberg’s play is titled “Babe,” but should be titled “Girl,” which is what its bombastic, sexist, untalented, full-of-himself and inordinately successful white straight male A&R legend calls all women, and that includes a cleaning lady who is well into her 60s.
Arliss Howard plays Gus in what is one of this year’s great stage performances. He’s so good that through much of “Babe” you may find yourself taking his side. Some of that is the acting, some of it is Goldberg’s writing. In the play’s first scene, Gus interviews Katherine (Gracie McGraw), a potential employee at the record company. Being the jerk that he is, Gus asks his future assistant if she has a soul. Among a long rambling resume, Katherine mentions something about having “grown up on weekends in Woodstock.” Gus roasts this young woman on the spot, and who can blame him?
Meanwhile, another employee wanders around the edges of the office, as well as the interview, and playing the seemingly meek Abigail, Marisa Tomei nearly evaporates into all the gold records in the office’s display case. Derek McLane’s set design captures both the sleek décor of this executive office and, later, Abigail’s sleek upscale Manhattan apartment.
Abigail is a woman caught between generations. She has had to bow to the old patriarchy, and now young women, like Katherine, misinterpret her compromises.
McGraw’s character has been seen before, most significantly in the second act of David Mamet’s “Oleanna.” Goldberg has a different take on this young litigious female character, but when Katherine launches into her full “Oleanna Moment,” the audience reaction is the same: revulsion.
My opinion of Gus may not be as jaundiced as Goldberg’s, because having worked in an office in the 1980s (as well as the 1970s), I found this boss’ behavior in that time frame – there are flashbacks – rather benign. For example, in 1989 when I was entertainment editor at Life magazine, a female editor asked during a staff meeting with more than a dozen people present (no need to record things as Katherine does) why this photo magazine always required female celebs but not male celebs to look sexy on its cover. She wanted the guys to turn on readers too. The recently installed top editor was quick to respond, “I’m too homophobic for that.” A month later, not only was the female editor fired, but so was I, the token gay on the editorial staff, even though I kept my mouth shut during this cover dissertation.
Tomei’s Abigail also keeps her mouth shut, and it’s why she has enjoyed success, although not to the degree Katherine believes she deserves. Certainly Abigail doesn’t make as much money as Gus.
McGraw, under Scott Elliott’s direction, is seamless in her impersonations of the young feisty assistant and the Janis Joplin-esque rock star that Abigail discovered but could not prevent from destroying herself. Not so subtle under Elliott’s direction is Tomei’s performance, which involves more transitions than simply switching characters. Abigail’s health is a major topic but appears shortchanged here; the segues to her being healthy and then sick and then healthy again are far too abrupt. What are we supposed to think: Abigail has cancer because she never got to make an obscene amount of money?
The character is the office wall flower, the power behind the big desk, and in an attempt to take focus, Tomei delivers a lot of nervous mannerisms that run counter to Abigail’s suppressed nature.
“Babe” runs only 85 minutes. Goldberg packs into her play both too much and not enough. Beyond Abigail’s variable health, there’s something too simplistic in the equation that female equals brilliant, male equals dumb. Is it possible that both Gus and Abigail are equally good at their job, but the one has all the power, fame and money?
Then again, that novel idea might take another 10 or 15 minutes of stage time.
