Photo Source: Joan Marcus
As LeFranc’s stage directions put it, “the setting is a restaurant in the Midwestern United States, or rather, every restaurant in the Midwestern United States,” and we begin with randy 20-something Sam picking up pretty, relationship-phobic waitress Nicole for a bout of anonymous sex. In the following series of short scenes, one bleeding imperceptibly into the other, we observe their life together through dating, marriage, kids, grandkids, adultery, disease, and death, enacted by a cast consisting of three male-female couples—one younger, one middle-aged, one older—and two children, a boy and a girl. The device allows, for example, one actor to play Sam, Sam’s father, and Sam’s son’s father-in-law, and under Sam Gold’s seamless, attentive-to-detail direction it works like a charm.
The terrific nine-person cast—there’s also a mute server with attitude—is the kind for which ensemble acting awards are created. The play may be metaphysical, but the performances are triumphs of acutely observed naturalism, particularly notable for how each actor picks up the essence of a character from the actor who has been inhabiting the role without ever imitating him or her. As the younger couple, Phoebe Strole and Cameron Scoggins are full of beans and a bright sexuality while handling the pauses and broken phrases of LeFranc’s pitch-perfect contemporary dialogue with effortless musicality. David Wilson Barnes and Jennifer Mudge are in the middle and expertly mix an awareness of narrowed possibilities with a still-fervent longing for more. At the older end of the spectrum, Tom Bloom and Anita Gillette provide bursts of engaging humor and a suppressed bewilderment at the fact that who they are no longer matches how they think of themselves. As various youngsters, Griffin Birney and Rachel Resheff contribute a lively energy and are highly believable in their shifting familial relationships, as well as adept at portraying different ages. Molly Ward gives the small but crucial role of the server just the right amount of presence.
Gold is a whiz at orchestrating the babble of overlapping dialogue that’s inevitable at any family meal while setting a swift and sure pace. David Zinn’s simple set of dark brown wooden tables covered with colorful floral-patterned cloths and backed by a pastel plaid banquette coordinates with his understated costumes to convey Midwesternness. Mark Barton’s subtle lighting imparts a feeling of transcendence and also accomplishes an important dramatic function I won’t reveal here.
While “The Big Meal” does bring to mind predecessors as varied as A.R. Gurney’s “The Dining Room” and Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town,” it is triumphantly its own thing. The final image will haunt me for a long time to come. LeFranc has written the kind of play that every critic hopes to encounter whenever a curtain rises but all too seldom does. Go.
Presented by and at Playwrights Horizons, 416 W. 42nd St., NYC. March 21–April 29. Tue.–Fri., 7:30 p.m.; Sat., 2 and 7:30 p.m.; Sun., 2 and 7 p.m. (No performance Thu., March 22.) (212) 279-4200 or www.ticketcentral.com. Casting by Alaine Alldaffer.
