The word that provides Jessica Goldberg’s new play its title has many meanings, depending on the circumstances. But as uttered by Gus, an aging record executive played by Arliss Howard, “Babe” comes across as a sexist, derogatory term even when he means it endearingly. He’s the sort of old-school male chauvinist who persists in his objectification of women despite multiple mandatory sensitivity training sessions. So when he encounters Katherine (Gracie McGraw), a self-confident and assertively ambitious young woman applying for a junior A&R job, it’s easy to foresee that things are not going to go well at first.
“Do you have a soul?” he asks, much to her befuddlement. And when he refers to her as a girl, she informs him, “I identify as a woman.”
Nonetheless, Katherine gets the job, working for Gus and the middle-aged Abigail (Marisa Tomei), his invaluable right-hand person of more than three decades. Abigail was instrumental in signing one of their greatest discoveries: Kat Wonder, a Janis Joplin-like rock singer who also met a tragically premature end and who’s responsible for several of the gold records lining the walls of Gus’ office.
[Read Michael Sommers’ ★★★★☆ review here.]
Babe, receiving its New York premiere from Off-Broadway’s The New Group, delivers a realistic-feeling depiction of the contemporary music scene, as when Gus disdains Katherine’s pitching of several bands for the label. He’s looking for solo artists, he informs her. Bands are no longer fashionable, “they don’t fit in a TikTok square.”
But the play is less persuasive in its All About Eve-style storyline involving Katherine’s long-held admiration for the older Abigail, to whom she signals an attraction, and her efforts to convince her that she’s being exploited by their sexist boss. Abigail is feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment, as she’s still undergoing chemotherapy as a result of a cancer diagnosis. We also learn that she has a tortured history with Gus, despite their close working relationship and his efforts to support her in her illness. He once broke her hand, as revealed in one of several flashbacks in which she interacts with the ghost of the late Kat Wonder (also played by McGraw).
Feeling thin in its plotting but heavy-handed in its themes, the play stumbles through a series of sluggish scenes lacking narrative momentum, with the flashbacks awkwardly signaled by echo effects. By the time it reaches its conclusion, Katherine has come to feel like little more than a plot device in the form of a Millennial striver out to bring down the sexist Gus and, by extension because of her complicity, Abigail.
Director Scott Elliott fails to make the proceedings fully coherent, and such stylistic devices as having actors silently remain onstage even when their characters are not in the scene simply feel pretentious. The performers struggle with their underwritten roles; Howard, playing Gus with suitable bluster, feels miscast, the actor’s natural likability at odds with his character’s piggishness. Tomei fares the best, conveying her character’s emotional and physical travails with intensity and humor. But it’s not enough to prevent Babe from feeling schematic in its #MeToo movement themes.
