Jessica Hecht dices an onion midway through Joshua Harmon’s Admissions, at the Newhouse. Now, Hecht dicing an onion—or preparing to dice an onion—is something to behold, but we’ll get to that. The onion itself, though, can be seen as symbolic of Harmon’s laceratingly scabrous play. A vegetable (and a subject) familiar and simple, on the surface; but with layer upon layer upon layer within, which only become apparent when you pare beneath the smooth covering and prod deep. Harmon’s skill is no surprise, of course; at least not to audiences familiar with his prior plays, the provocative and hysterically funny Bad Jews and Significant Other.
Sheri Rosen-Mason (Hecht) is Head of Admissions at Hillcrest, a top tier boarding school in New Hampshire. Husband Bill (Andrew Garman), not coincidentally, is Head of School. Sheri, a progressively-raised child of Holocaust survivors married to a well-mannered WASP, goes out of her way to make the school reflective of our American society. She rails against the annual school brochure, which presents the place as virtually all-white; and much is made of her feat in pushing minority admissions all the way up to the magic 20% level.
At the same time, Sheri’s over-achieving son Charlie (Ben Edelman) is a top candidate for early admission at Yale, the mere mention of which might hint at where this play is going. The cauldron begins to boil when Charlie’s best friend, with slightly lower grades and SATs but black skin, gets preferential treatment. The wound starts to fester, in fact, at the very moment Harmon has Sheri slice into that onion. The onion-odor, emanating from a countertop on the vast stage, doesn’t quite permeate the auditorium; but racism does, clearly and pungently. “If there are going to be new voices at the table,” quoth the author, “someone has to stand up and offer someone else his seat.”
Which takes us back to Hecht, one of our more distinctive stage performers. She can be stunningly good, as in the Liev Schreiber View from the Bridge; or a tad excessive, as in the Jim Parsons Harvey. Like the late Marian Seldes, her mannerisms might in some cases overpower her roles. Not here: Hecht is altogether excellent, portraying Sheri as a tower of unimpeachably righteous decency, uneasily balancing on the pinnacle as she watches her values totter. (“We’re not talking about diversity,” she exclaims when her son pleads for the rights of the undertrodden, “we’re talking about you!”)
That son is played by young Mr. Edelman, whose one New York stage credit seems to be as understudy to the lead in Significant Other. Edelman gives a cyclonic performance, suggesting he is at the beginning of a notable career; he shares the stage with some strong performers here, but no one other than Hecht stands a chance. Harmon accommodates Edelman by giving him a staggeringly brutal and funny speech in the first scene which seems to go on for about ten minutes, although you’re so rapt that you’re unlikely to look at your watch; you are glued to the riveting Edelman. And lest you wonder whether this seventeen-year-old, college-bound bundle of intensity named Charlie is perhaps a tad over-theatrical, let me add that I’ve got a college-bound teen named Charlie and Harmon’s got it precisely right.
The other players contribute greatly. Garman, who was so memorable in the central role of Lucas Hnath’s The Christians, simmers to breaking point as the well-mannered headmaster. Ann McDonough, a character actor with a familiar face, does a capital job in her several scenes opposite Hecht as the embattled administrator. Sally Murphy, who might be in our memories just now for her Julie Jordan in Lincoln Center Theater’s 1994 Carousel, makes a strong showing as the mother of the other boy, who considers herself clearly non-racist because she is married to a black man. Daniel Aukin, director of Harmon’s Bad Jews and Lincoln Center Theater’s 4000 Miles, once again demonstrates his abilities at provocative comedy-drama.
While school admissions is a prime topic for easy but potentially explosive comedy—and haven’t we seen that play/film/sitcom before?—Mr. Harmon has his mind, and his sabre-point, on something else altogether. The author clearly knows how to set a thinking audience roaring. But Admissions is not merely another excellent and canny comedy (like Bad Jews and Significant Other); it is a lacerating look at racial attitudes which upends the smug attitudes of privileged bystanders.
“I don’t see color,” the elderly administrator defensively exclaims, “I’m not a race person.” Well, no. But look around, Harmon says to his characters; and, truth be told, to his audience.
Admissions opened March 12, 2018 at the Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater and runs through April 29. Tickets and information: lct.org
