It’s too bad that the first really funny dramatic moment in Woolly Mammoth’s current “Civilization (all you can eat)” comes after an hour and forty-five minutes of social commentary mingled with comic bits. That’s a long time to wade through playwright Jason Grote’s uneven material — some limply humorous, some ironic, some reminiscent of the worst moments of “All My Children.”
Loosely designed to give a sense of what America was like during the presidential campaign of 2008, Grote begins with a farmyard. Cast members push a hen and two sheep across the stage. Then five actors dressed as hogs appear, the most voluble and intelligent of them being “Big Hog” (the endearing Sarah Marshall).
Armed with his pop-psychological logic, Grote tries to plumb the depths of America’s obsessions with economic disaster, race, consumerism, health, upward mobility, monetary and familial stability. But as he moves through episodic scenes in which some characters are vaguely connected, the impression is that Grote’s real interest is the notion of chaos, the subject that his character Mike (Sean Meehan) lectures about at conventions.
| Onstage |
| ‘Civilization (all you can eat)’ |
| Where: Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company, 641 D St. NW |
| When: Through March 11 |
| Info: Tickets begin at $30; 202-393-3939; woollymammoth.net |
Presumably, Grote used 2008 since it was an important moment in terms of national fiscal meltdown. But he doesn’t bring much new to the theatrical table that playwrights haven’t already addressed in terms of financial ruin, the racial divide and social/sexual problems.
The acting in “Civilization” is universally good and director Howard Shalwitz keeps the play moving at a brisk pace. Tia James is excellent as Zoe, a television commercial director. Naomi Jacobson brings as much humanity as possible to the role of the desperate Carol. The character Jade, a wild teenager in rebellion against her mother, is portrayed with spiky defiance by Casie Platt.
And then there is Marshall, who as Big Hog sees all, hears all, puts two and two together and outwits the farmer. She is even more engaging in the final scene, when she returns in the guise of a wealthy producer sporting a suit and representing power. In that final scene, it becomes clear that what Grote’s script is lacking all along is a sense of the absurd behind his patterns of destruction.
Valerie St. Pierre Smith’s costumes are imaginative, particularly those for the hogs. Daniel Ettinger’s set begins as a gray, wooden wall in front of which all the action happens until the final scene, when that wall lifts to reveal a modern, trendy restaurant, its rear wall hung with huge, pale animal carcasses.
It’s the perfect setting for a would-be director to meet with the know-it-all hog, his voice dripping with greasy innuendo. The only thing better would be if Grote had made him a politician discussing pork-barrel legislation.
