Lyceum Theatre, New York
May 31, 2009
Whatever you do, don't call this a "regular" play. The advertising concept above covered subway tunnels and bus stops with what "regular" people didn't like about themselves. With hot pink and a lowercase title, reasons to be pretty (as they prefer it) set out to be an uncompromising look at beauty in this country. Four actors but no stars amid plays starring Geoffrey Rush, Jane Fonda, James Gandolfini. I thought I'd write about the play as it closes this afternoon: not a world-changing piece of theater, but an engaging one with solid, unaffected acting and dialogue that captures a certain type of blue-collar worker just trying to roll along with life day by day, duking it out against the big dogs. Neil LaBute's play has done the same, struggling to get itself heard.
And that's what reasons to be pretty centers on: the beautiful and shiny versus the underdog. Three of the four characters are the little men trying to make ends meet, living on week-by-week paychecks. Greg and Kent work in a cereal factory; Greg's girlfriend Steph in a hair salon. Only Carly, Kent's hot police-officer wife, holds the upper hand in terms of life ambition; oh yeah, and she's a looker. (In a fitting twist of fate, Piper Perabo as Carly was less naturalistic than the others.) See, Carly overhears Greg say his girlfriend has a "regular" face and from her position of power and self-righteousness blabs the word to Steph. That one word shutters a four-year relationship: the ball destined to drop shakes up all the players like a pinball machine seeking revenge.
Steph gets some when, after a tense break-up with Greg over her "regular" face, she reads off a list of his inadequacies in a public food court. Behind the agony of men shifting in their seats is humor: after deriding his nose, his eyes, his kissing, his body, she stops shy of certain anatomy, because "that would be hurtful." At moments LaBute slashes for the jugular, and there were incidents (even on YouTube) of theatergoers audibly incensed. But this is a smart play that aims right for our insecurities. Why, we have to wonder, do we have these hangups? What's wrong with a "regular" face? (The answer: zilch, but it's not that simple.)
Maybe Neil LaBute's getting soft; Steph claims she made up the list. And compared to other LaButes, it's a play of redemption. Greg, given a wonderfully empathetic performance by Thomas Sadowski, decides to make something of his life, while making amends--but not making up with--Steph. (Marin Ireland is quite striking, even physically, as Steph while vacillating wildly on a spectrum of emotions.) It's a man-to-man battle, ultimately, and Steven Pasquale scores as alpha-male, permanent screw-up Kent even if his character doesn't make it past the bullpen. Maybe it's too easy for a break-up from one word, but with one expression comes an abundance of feelings, over-thinking, frustration, fury, self-pity. Greg in the end lets her go, claiming he was just "drifting" for four years. Though true about his factory work, it's a move of self-sacrifice.
The play's existence on Broadway was a sacrifice, too, for investors. Small plays rarely warrant year-long runs in large theaters. But man, isn't it time someone yelled at us, yes, this play does make us look fat? Long live the regular play, with its regular actors and regular dreams of success.
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