In All My Fathers, playwright David Younger has come home from New York City, where he has a new play about to open. He never mentions the name of the play, but since the author of the play on view is Paul David Young—no surname “er”—it’s undoubtedly an autobiographical work. If it’s not, it’s nobody’s fault but Young’s for patrons making the short mental leap.
Young is also responsible for the strong impression that All My Fathers is a therapeutic activity. He doesn’t leave that much to the imagination, as will be revealed farther down. But enough of foreshadowing for the moment. On his arrival David has to contend with his parents. Mild-mannered Bill Younger (the excellent veteran Jonathan Hogan) isn’t really a problem. It’s mother Regina Younger (the equally excellent Deborah Hedwall), who compulsively gets under David’s skin.
Aside from repeatedly insisting she has cancer, a diagnosis dismissed by her doctors, she’s rattled—and appears to have been rattled for some time—by David’s choices of turning his back on small town life, becoming a playwright, and living with a male partner. For this visit, Regina has found a new way to get at him. She insists on telling David that he is not Bill’s biological son. He’s the result of a long-ended affair in which she engaged with now deceased Dr. Nick Woodman (Brian Hastert).
Nick Woodman, gone but not forgotten, is first encountered in a prologue when he and Regina declare their mutual love, and she informs him she’s pregnant with his child. From then on, Nick appears to David in street clothes—with the exception of one sighting, wearing Speedos, in a dream from which David awakes with alarm.
For most of All My Fathers, playwright Young doles out a dysfunction-family spin. Regina’s major activity—while Bill either tries to conciliate or leaves to pull himself together—has her plaguing David with the possibility of Nick’s being his natural father. But, usually at high volume, she never entirely confirms the situation. Or maybe she finally does.
That’s unclear, certainly to this viewer. At one point she has David look at a framed picture of his (unseen) brother, who resembles Bill. Then in her self-satisfied badgering, she has him consult a framed picture of himself, resembling her but not in the least resembling Bill. It’s an okay argument but hardly fully convincing.
After a reasonable time Young brings the volatile triangle to a resolution—though not before a sad secret involving Bill is announced. When that occurs patrons are possibly satisfied at having witnessed a credibly upsetting drama unfold on set designer Ao Li’s living room with its two comfy upholstered chairs and ottoman.
But hold it. Young isn’t finished—and readers might consider the following as a spoiler. Still reading? Okay, at this juncture, David breaks brazenly through the fourth wall and explains that what’s now before the audience is an epilogue. It’s an epilogue revealing that the preceding scenes are from the (about-to-open?) play he’s composed about his parents and himself.
Although epilogues in literature are generally on the brief side, this onstage playwright begins spouting a good deal of metatheatrical phrases—goobledegook?—that continues for some time and makes increasingly less sense. Except in a pretentious way. Occasionally, the other characters chime in as the accomplished actors they’re now unmasked to be, under Evan Yionoulis’ crisp direction. Better that Young had dismissed the audience while he was ahead and not before he decided to dun ticket buyers with playwrighting challenges they have no reason to want to be filled in on.
By the way, Young’s title may fall on some spectators’ ears as a bow toward Arthur Miller’s All My Sons. Furthermore, they may feel that nudging for a comparison with the classic American work needs to be more astutely earned.
All My Fathers opened October 6, 2019 at La Mama and runs through October 20. Tickets and information: lamama.org
