Grand Horizons is one of those independent living communities of cookie-cutter condos set up so the staff can seamlessly transfer you to the assisted living section when the bell, as they say, tolls. It is neither “grand” nor on any discernible “horizon,” being located in what seems to be suburban Delaware. Rather, it is an upscale parking spot for the affluent middle class.
Bess Wohl’s geriatric new play, which takes its name from the retirement community, at least offers unprecedented originality in this day and age: None of the seniors on stage has or develops dementia, and when was the last time we saw that? What we do get, in its place, is adulterous old folks detailing sexual escapades to their horrified adult children. To say nothing of their audience.
Here’s the venerable Jane Alexander, of all people, offering guffaw-raising dialogue about what they used to call “private parts.” This is supplemented by detailed discourse on the operational details of little blue, egg-shaped, hands-free, multi-speed vibrators you can order on the internet. (“You can do harder, softer, pulse, steady,” the always enjoyable Priscilla Lopez helpfully explains, “just like on a blender.” Leave space for laughter.) Octogenarian sexting, too, and let’s all be glad that the projection designer is content to leave that element to our over-assaulted imaginations.
[Read Melissa Rose Bernardo’s ★★★★ review here.]
Dramaturgical question: how likely is it for an 80-year-old woman to ask her 80-year-old husband’s 70-something mistress about her sex life? No matter, long as it generates laughs.
Grand Horizons—a coproduction of Second Stage and the Williamstown Theatre Festival—is a comedy of the dysfunctional-family-gathers-and-due-to-parental-sexual-activity-falls-apart genre, in two acts. Nancy (Alexander) and Bill (James Cromwell) are living in silent misery. Playwright Wohl and director Leigh Silverman are at their most humorously creative in the opening scene, which continues several minutes before anyone says anything at all. (Watch Alexander pour gravy on the mashed potatoes!) Finally:
She: I want a divorce.
He: Okay.
Quick blackout.
Lights up on the couple’s two grown sons, Ben (Ben McKenzie)—accompanied by his increasingly pregnant wife, Jess (Ashley Park)—and Brian. The latter is a vodka-and-Crystal-Light swilling high school drama teacher played by Michael Urie, just then ensconced in a 200-person production of The Crucible with multiple John Proctors and Abigails and even a court stenographer so that “every kid who wants a part gets one.” (Someone email Rebecca Miller, quick!) Yes, this is milked for what it’s worth—it’s worth considerable laughter, indeed—and Urie is every bit as funny as you’d hope.
The sons (squabbling, of course) and stepdaughter (squabbling, of course) try to patch this squabbling Humpty Dumpty marriage together again, but can’t; otherwise, what would they do for a second act? Instead, the kids react in horror to word of the parental affairs; otherwise, what would they do for a second act? And then, there’s the U-Haul truck but you’ll have to see the play to find out about that.
Each reveal, needless to say, results in filial shock laced with laugh lines. In the end, despite fitful laughter at an evening’s worth of fitful jokes, nobody is happy. Except maybe Carla-the-flame (Lopez), who following the vibrator discourse realizes that she’s wise to leave her pink scarf (don’t ask) and flee back to her condo in less luxurious Vista View (“near the highway”).
Grand Horizons is a new play, but not new in the Broadway sense. This sort of thing abounded in the third quarter of the last century. Some were hits, often major; does anyone remember Never Too Late? (Middle-aged mom gets pregnant to the shock of her husband, pregnant daughter, and son-in-law, for 1,007 performances.) Watching the first act of Grand Horizons, I was swept back to a different old play, a negligible 1972 offering called 6 Rms Riv Vu. This was mostly because that play demonstrated the comic touch of the then-young Alexander, who has spent a good deal of her career playing more serious fare. Her deft performance in Grand Horizons is decidedly reminiscent of that earlier play, which despite her ministrations and those of the equally young Jerry Orbach proved to be a flimsy comedy trying too hard to compete with ol’ Doc Simon, a popular gagman of the era.
Alexander is a delight; when she and Urie are left to their own devices, for the momma-has-sex scene, they make Grand Horizons seem highly accomplished. Urie is excessive and over-the-top throughout, precisely as called for. Park—a major asset in Mean Girls and a memorable Tuptim in the Lincoln Center King and I—reveals a more than fine comic sense as well. So does Lopez, who is destined to be ever-remembered as the “I felt nothing” girl from A Chorus Line. Cromwell, an accomplished screen actor best known as the pig tender in Babe, holds his own but is unable to surmount the material as his cohorts effortlessly do. Where’s Jerry Orbach when you need him?
Wohl is among the current crop of fine younger playwrights filling our stages nowadays. American Hero (2014) was promising, Small Mouth Sounds (2015) arresting, Make Believe (2019) altogether provoking. With Grand Horizons, she seems to have wanted to step back and try her hand at a traditional, non-challenging, old-fashioned sex comedy. That’s more or less what we get.
Grand Horizons opened January 23, 2020 at the Helen Hayes Theater and runs through March 1. Tickets and information: 2st.com
