In theater, something invisible often is the most essential element of many plays. That is the "voice" not just of the playwright, although that’s important, but that of the characters. Who they are, what they think, how they feel and their internal struggles, revealed on stage, through a language all their own, as unique as a fingerprint or a voiceprint, matter as much, and sometimes more, than the contours of what happens to them.
Levon Hawke in “Picture Day,” which ran at the Coffey Street Studio, in Red Hook, Brooklyn, until October 6, gives voice to young men in their 20s, part of a generation all too often overlooked on stage and not often enough represented in audiences. This play, while it can’t by itself fill a vacuum, goes a long way to giving a strong voice to young men in their twenties, portraying their doubts and struggles on stage in a way that doesn’t seem to be happening in other shows. And it’s just the latest example of young actors, writers and directors, in Brooklyn, bringing a strong show with big emotions to a small stage. A Brooklyn theater renaissance, if not a boom, is going on. "Picture Day," a play not about angry young men, but about anguished ones, is a small, but important part of it.
While "Picture Day" does a good job portraying young men, the near complete absence of women as characters could easily be seen as a glaring omission, although women are often the topic of conversation. In fact, this play lets men talk to each other, although it is very different dialogue from David Mamet’s machismo. These are sensitive, literate, sometimes philosophical people who could probably curse as well as talk about Kierkegaard, but also are almost hamstrung by their own good fortune. When we hear that 99 percent of people would love to have their life, it’s probably true. But they are hamstrung by a profusion of options, like Hamlets who see so much possibility on the horizon that picking a path can be difficult.
Booth McGowan leads us through the maze of emotions, while Rocco Gaggliarducci’s character develops a romance along with regrets. Ian Edlund as a British buddy hungry for meaning shows us how questions can paralyze, often facing the audience as he separates himself from the group. At one point we hear someone question how silly this philosophical musing would be - without a British accent. Dane Billups shows us a young African American man not given the benefit of the doubt, trying to stay out of conflict. Ari Dalbert as Ralph finds himself defending his conduct to his friends, after an ex girlfriend accuses him. It’s a young, talented cast up to the task of playing real people on stage, capturing the rhythms, the relationships and the risks of life. But events never take over, the way plot can, as these characters and their relationships remain center stage. And there is good chemistry between the cast.
“Picture Day” is a true ensemble piece in which relationships, friendships betrayals, dreams and doubts are at the core of the action while in most plays, we look for a single protagonist to navigate through a plot. You might say “Picture Day” has subplots and not a single plot, but life is like that. This play is much more about these young men, questioning, searching, stumbling and struggling rather than a single series of events. We see each person wrestling with their own insecurities, and see how their friends react and how this puts tension on their relationship in a play ably directed by Hawke, with so much action on stage that the absence of a single primary plot hardly matters, as plots shift with kaleidoscopic ease. The stage truly feels more like an emotional boxing ring than a set. The Christmas tree, which is dragged in only to lie like a corpse on stage for a while, is then decorated with ornaments, including a cross, as if these young men are struggling with their own pain and promise. And the play, which begins with the young men playing a board game, complete with clear rules, gradually evolves into their efforts to deal with life’s challenges, where rules are often broken, never referring to work or school, as if the idea is to look at life in a limbo devoid of these responsibilities.
These are young men with the courage to question, but not the patience or persistence to pursue answers. But these are people who still believe there are answers, if only they could find them. The play is set on a sort of triangular stage strewn with crushed plastic cups that once contained beer, the carnage of drinking as distraction. The characters are a sort of family of friends, not a fraternity, brothers trying to figure out who they are. In this fishbowl, we see them swim, vape and vie with each other, spewing philosophy, questioning everything and each other. We see into the characters’ heads rather than watching at the “distance of a drone.”
Hawke’s writing gives a voice to young men in their 20s and the dilemmas they often face, in dialogue so real it feels improvised. While a young woman appears at the end, that seems only to dramatize the fact that this play has shown us boys being boys, men being men and males trying to come to terms with themselves, while trying to figure out the future in a way that nobody, not even a fortune teller, can. They could easily become someone else talking to a woman, trying to impress or be someone they aren't. This isn't set in a locker room, but it is set in a way that they are themselves, free of posing. Whether people are gay, straight, bi or trying to decipher their own sexuality, they are trying to figure out who they are.
The shifts from subplot to subplot sometimes seem a little abrupt, and possibly could use foreshadowing to smooth shifts in plots. The show can feel like a series of scenes or one acts in sequence. If this is a tapestry, though, it is a beautiful tapestry, which possibly could be woven together a little more neatly. But it already has a clear, dramatic texture created by good dialogue and directing, as well as powerful performances by a cast who work well together. And by the time the play ends, it does feel as if these conflicts and struggles, if not resolved, are being faced. Ironically, we get no answers, only explanations. We hear people accused of trying to act smart by talking slowly, while Booth McGowan’s character gives us a series of Freudian slips, saying "pornography" when he means "photography" and "cunt" when he means "count." Characters hunger for validation and honesty, although Billups’ character reminds us that honesty is never a reason for nastiness. Dalbert’s character talks about the desire for a lasting relationship, as well as the downside of marriage as we hear about how the pain of separation, not love, holds many couples together.
Levon Hawke as a writer and director makes a dramatic debut with a talented, young cast and an entire evening that feels organic and real. People are never reciting, but always living on stage in that triangle aimed at the audience. There is no single protagonist, although Booth McGowan is clearly the core, in so many scenes, but the romance is just one of the many layered relationships. Although fans of plot may wish that “Picture Day” would focus on one set of events, people in their twenties may want a more layered realty, desiring to throw off plot as a kind of Procrustean bed that crushes life. This play does feel as if it evolves in front of us. If you’re looking for a single plot, you won’t find that here, but if you’re looking for a play that provides a portrait of young men in their 20s, facing various struggles, you’ll find that here in spades.
"Portrait Day" (although it could be more clear exactly what portrait this is and why it matters, even if it is a holiday portrait) doesn’t feel torn from headlines, but from a diary. The meaning of "picture day" isn't completely clear, but then pictures are posed, and the point seems to be showing life devoid of pose. Many people complain that people in their 20s rarely go to theater, but the reality is they are rarely on stage as characters. In “Picture Day” people in their 20s get their day on stage. Hemingway once said that in “The Sun Also Rises,” the Earth is the hero, not any individual. Levon Hawke does a good job of making the ensemble the hero, or at least the heart of the play, and giving a voice to characters who clearly have a voice in offices, apartments, bars and life, although that voice rarely carries to the stage. He does a good job directing a fluid production showing a world that he as a writer summoned through a script. The characters, in their twenties, now speak clearly and intimately in this play. For those in their 20s, this may feel familiar, but others will find not just a new voice, but a loud one worth listening to and hearing now and in the future.
vivid portrayal of people in their twenties