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Flawed but funny, Eric Coble's play is brighter in idea than execution
Small children are at the heart of Eric Coble's Bright Ideas.
They're so small, in fact, that they can't be seen. The absence
of little people is quite remarkable when you consider that Coble's
drama revolves around one middle-class American couple's effort
to get their three-year-old into the right preschool, and that the
majority of the scenes take place in environments like a playground,
a classroom, and a full-blown kiddies' birthday party complete with
balloons and a guy in a beaver costume. But that's precisely the
point: This play about children has no children in it because it's
not really about children at all. It's about a bunch of demented
parents.
Attitudes toward parenting have changed radically over the last
hundred years or so. "Time was, you had to have children —
more hands on the farm and all that," said writer Larry Smith
in an article on Salon.com
last week. "Those days, and that necessity, are long gone."
These days, especially in the wealthy West, the business of raising
kids has evolved into something like an elaborate, expensive, and
time-consuming hobby. With the parental antics of celebrities like
Madonna, Angelina, and the Beckhams becoming the subject of popular
discourse, and marketers increasingly appealing to Gen-Xers' desire
to give "the best" to their offspring, child-rearing —
at least in some circles — has become as much about creating
the right image as nurturing the upstanding citizens of tomorrow.
For a generation of moms and dads haunted by stories like that
of Citibank CEO Sanford I. Weill, accused a few years back of helping
get his star telecom analyst's kids into an elite Manhattan preschool
in exchange for a better rating on AT&T, and for whom the must-have
baby accessory is the $730 Bugaboo Frog stroller (it was featured
on Sex and the City, after all), Bright Ideas
taps into the sinister forces at work behind modern parenting. Over
the course of one and a half hours, the playwright follows the fortunes
of Genevra and Joshua Bradley, a pair of desperados willing to go
all the way — and I do mean all the way — to
ensure that their son gets the start he deserves. This entails securing
a place, no matter the cost, at Bright Ideas Early Development Academy,
the preschool de choix for the cappuccino crowd. It's probably just
as well that the children in the play aren't real, but are merely
suggested by the five adult characters talking to the ether in slightly
condescending voices. For this is an R-rated show, and what begins
as a fluffy sitcom along Dharma & Greg lines soon unravels
into a bloodbath spoof worthy of The Sopranos — or,
as the playwright would have it, Macbeth.
Coble's decision to interweave lines, character names, and plot
points from Shakespeare throughout his text seems like a brilliantly
wacky way to emphasize the satire of parental insanity. Like Alexander
Pope's sendup of the epic form in The Rape of the Lock, the incongruity
created by contrasting the blood on Lady Macbeth's hands with the
pesto on Genevra's (as she attempts to cook dinner for her yuppie
colleague Denise) ought to engender laughs as well as expose the
beliefs expressed by the characters for the delusions they really
are. Unfortunately, I found myself wishing that Coble had sought
inspiration from Tony and Carmela Soprano rather than Shakespeare's
ambitious thane and his bloodthirsty wife. For Bright Ideas' episodic
structure, numerous cliches, and heavy-handed comedy would doubtless
work better on the tube than on the stage. (It's just as well that
the author is working on a screen version of his play.)
The collaborators in Shotgun Players' production hustle to make
Coble's satire work. Zapping expertly between various roles —
including the Tina Brown-like Denise and a frumpy preschool teacher
in crocheted vest, red turtleneck, ill-fitting denim skirt, and
brown sandals — Melanie Case embodies the bonkers spirit of
Coble's play. The Killing My Lobster performance style
(Case is a core member of the comedy troupe) seems like the perfect
vehicle to carry the outlandish social lampoon. Anna Ishida's performance
as Genevra is more understated, yet features some marvelous neurotic
moments. In one of the few really strong scenes, a trio of child
specialists bombards the frazzled mom with sales pitches, convincing
her that paying for expensive speech therapy sessions, drama classes,
and sports coaching is essential to being a good parent. Beyond
the acting, scenic designer James J. Fenton's lurid, 1970s-themed
domestic landscape makes fun of Gen-Xers' faddish retro tastes while
simultaneously pointing to the gulf between parenting styles today
and those of the previous generation. Meanwhile, director Mary Guzmán's
opening scene depicting a light fog (or puff of dry ice) hovering
over a patch of lawn astutely suggests that the high drama we are
about to witness amounts to little more than a small, low cloud.
Despite Shotgun Players' efforts, I couldn't help feeling that
Coble's play is brighter in idea than execution. From Joshua's hackneyed
interest in the trappings of pseudo-Zen spiritualism to Genevra's
compulsive cellphone use, the one-dimensional Bradleys are as unlikable
as they are contrived. Due to clumsily handled motivations, their
actions lack credibility, even within the play's zany comic scope.
The Macbeth allusions feel similarly forced. With pastiches of the
witches' and banquet scenes from Macbeth slapped haphazardly
on top of references to Golden Pony Merit Awards, 5-year-old 6K
runs, and nightmares about ducky wading pools, Shakespeare's tragedy
serves only to highlight the dramaturgical inadequacies of Cobles'
comedy. A line like "Is this a mortar and pestle which I see
before me?" pretty much says it all.
On the homepage of one Montessori preschool's Web site (an organization
with six locations in Northern California), a little girl with long
hair and a sincere face poses like the Mona Lisa. "We believe
that each child is a masterpiece," reads the caption underneath
her picture, one of several amateurish photographs of children mimicking
famous paintings. These preschoolers, like those in Coble's play,
are invisible, submerged under a glossy veneer of warped marketing
kitsch. When faced with such images, Bright Ideas succeeds
in making one vital (and seemingly obvious) point: Preschool and
child care efforts should focus on children. |
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