Bickering is, of course, a staple of the American dysfunctional-family play. Focus for a few moments on Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolff? What do George and Martha do for the better part of three acts but bicker, turning themselves into the high-art Bickersons?
With the 21st century close to a quarter over, English language usage has altered and perhaps has even shrunk. A case can be made that, given the rise of obscenities peppering everyday speech, contemporary playwrights risk seeming namby-pamby if they don’t regularly incorporate words like f*ck and sh*t into their everyday dialogue.
John J. Caswell Jr. certainly falls in line with Wet Brain, where the three siblings — Angelina (Ceci Fernández), Ricky (Arturo Luís Soria), and Ron (Frankie J. Alvarez) — speak like what we used to say only sailors did.
These aging kids are living in, as the program informs, “Scottsdale, Arizona. Summer. Present.” (Caswell’s script has it somewhat differently: “A sh*tty part of Scottsdale, Arizona. Summer.”) Indeed, this is where, when first encountered, the three are behaving sh*ttily as an outcome of looking after — or shirking looking after — their father Joe (Julio Monge).
Joe in his way is the title character. He’s the one with the wet brain. Anyone who isn’t familiar with the phrase can probably figure out what it signifies, but just in case: “wet brain” is a term applied to victims of Wernicke-Korsakoff Syndrome, a brain and memory disorder caused by a deficiency of vitamin B1, or thiamine.
And does Joe suffer from it! He’s got it by the caseload, giving audiences a preview of coming distractions in the brief opening scene. He appears in designer Cha See’s shadowy lights spouting gibberish, just as son Ricky arrives to see a man stumbling. He exclaims, “Dad?”
Then it’s on to scene two and the sister and brothers continuing an argument they’ve clearly carried on for years. The contretemps centers around how can Joe be managed and by whom. Angelina has been burdened with the responsibility and is so fed up with the situation that she’s taken a lease on another place.
Ricky, an out gay man, has been avoiding filial duty by living on the other side of the country and has come home not necessarily to stay. Ron, homophobic and therefore at odds with Ricky, has taken on some responsibilities but has nevertheless let Angela do as much as she has. (Women patrons will likely agree it’s the unmarried daughter who has long since inherited that often-thankless role?)
As Wet Brain goes along, shuttling patrons along with it more than might be speculated, the family may be divided on various issues, but the underlying cause is always the severely wet-brained Joe, who’s repeatedly wandering in to end up flat on the floor, vaguely flailing.
Once, it’s a roof floor, as Angela, Ricky and Joe, now in their encroaching middle age, are obliged to hover together increasingly for Joe’s pitiable sake. On this discombobulating occasion, they realize he’s on top of their house, which necessitates their joining him as he’s ranting at the sky.
The ranting has to do with Joe’s imagining — or is he? — that he’s a creature from outer space. His obsession bursts into what the script indicates is Caswell’s entirely surprising, if not shocking, third act. It’s undoubtedly unfair to go into many details about it, though it’s fair enough to report that Joe and his amazed children are suddenly hurtled into — OK — science fiction. They’re immeasurably helped into Star Wars realm by Nic Hussong’s projections of galaxies shooting by.
During this spectacular interlude, Mona (Florencia Lozano), Joe’s wife and the children’s mother, who long ago hanged herself from a chandelier (!), is present and still hanging. The family, now reunited, is seen as if looking down from a ceiling at a room below.
With Joe entirely lucid for this sequence, Caswell’s aim is to suggest the need for families ultimately to understand themselves, the result being an ultimately shared love and understanding. That happy, if too often unrealistic, goal is reached in the final scenes, and perhaps that’s not only the playwright’s desire but his autobiographical need. Though the program doesn’t indicate as much, the Wet Brain script has this (wishful thinking?) dedication: “For my father if he’s out there. And for my siblings.”
Given the incendiary nature of Wet Brain, director Dustin Wills has his work cut out for him. He does it with robust assurance, charging his actors with a brand of electricity matching the explosive quality of Caswell’s writing. The outcome is high-wattage dramatics.
And now for some words about the set Kate Noll has wangled. It includes a living room, a separate kitchen, and parts of other rooms. (The wall between the kitchen and living room, and the doors leading to and from them, are often hard to read.) There’s yet more set when the basic environment turntables, revealing the home’s two-story exterior with two-part roof. But wait, there’s even more: It’s that sci-fi living room viewed from above.
This very dry-brain accomplishment adds up to an early nominee for the year’s Best Set, with Wet Brain getting an early start for the year’s Best Dysfunctional Family Play.
Wet Brain opened June 6, 2023, at Playwrights Horizons and runs through June 25. Tickets and information: playwrightshorizons.org
