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The Open House

Review by Tulis McCall

This is a gem of a production. In fact I think the production might be better than the play. A family of people connected only by their gene pool has gathered to be flayed by the Father (Peter Friedman). These people have no names, only roles. Mother (Carolyn McCormic). Uncle (Michael Countryman). Daughter (Hannah Bos). Son (Danny McCarthy). Father is recovering from a stroke that seems to have affected everything but his tongue and his bitter soul. He can read and snark with the best of them. As a matter of fact that is all he can do.

This gets to be one-note fairly quickly, but in the hands of Peter Friedman we can endure it. The kids have the usual ability f=to come back at him because, hey, it's only their father. The one who takes the brunt of it is Uncle who is told not to sit or walk or THINK about this family.

Mother takes a lot of the dung as well, but when we see them alone together we see that old Mom can give as good as she gets. She just doesn't' like to do it in front of the children for goodness sakes.

This is a house that is anything BUT open. The shades are drawn. The air molecules seem afraid to move. Even the dog decides to take a break when the kids come home.

Seque to the other folks - the ones who want to make this dwelling into an open home. One by one the actors disappear for various reasons, and one by one they return. Not only do they have names: Anna, Brian, Tom, etc., they have the ability to turn the sad little house on its ear with hardly a lifted hand. Each arrives with a touch of the previous quintet. A piece of hum, a color scheme - little touches here and there. One by one they enter, and as each enters it is as though they are dropping a little kryptonite off for Father. As his hold on the household slips, so does his equilibrium.

This is a fascinating so-si-do. What it means and why we are watching it is never shoved down our throats which makes the entire experience all the better. There is something about all of us being connected, and who DO we think we are anyway? Are the newcomers just the old timers and will they end up the same way? Are the old timers disappearing or just being re-invented?

How does this life thing work anyway? Eno's writing is often fluid and sly. Oliver Butler has pulled out every stop to make this production bloom even when it feels like the barren desert of family relationships. And this cast takes on the challenge brilliantly. Eno's writing is the guide, but these folks pick up the ball and blast it out of the park. Bravo.

And because they do, you will have a lot to think about on the subway ride home. Yes indeedy.

"Mordantly funny but disappointingly hollow comedy."
Charles Isherwood for New York Times

"Domestic dysfunction has been mined to the max onstage. So it's very impressive that playwright Will Eno extracts so much pungent humor and so many poignant observations in a fleet 80 minutes."
Joe Dziemianowicz for New York Daily News

"Eno's writing is sharply funny, and we can only shudder at the heartlessness that has corroded the relationships among these people. Dysfunctional American families are a cliché, but the playwright and director Oliver Butler make you feel every awful moment of an ordinary day at home."
Robert Feldberg for The Record

External links to full reviews from popular press...

New York Times - New York Daily News - The Record

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