Complete the phrase "New Jersey _________." Turnpike, right? Welcome to New Jersey incorporates two of playwright Alex Dawson's one acts where the roadway both directly and indirectly affects the lives of the characters. The title is as much an invitation as a threat.
Although the highway sounds that precede 16E disappear when the play begins, they hover over the break room where turnpike toll-takers wait for their shift to begin. The minutiae of life are rehashed this early morning just as they are every morning, and "fuck" is an all-purpose adjective. Out of this talk-talk-talk character is revealed, sometimes overtly, sometimes surreptitiously. Rich (Rich Odell) talks on the phone about a particularly satisfying pool game; Jack (Brendan Connor) eats doughnut holes and drinks Yoo Hoo (and a quick laugh when the conversation turns to women tells volumes about his character); Moss (Joseph Pacillo) has such grandiose dreams of leaving that one suspects the ghost of Chekhov is hovering. Moss is far more poetic in his speech than would be the case in real life, but the sense was exactly right. It's slightly artificial, but not fake - it's theatrical reality. And just when the self-pity hits its peak, a nightshift toll-taker (a terrific cameo by Marvin Schwartz) bursts in with stories of the glory of the drama of his shift, and perspective abruptly changes. Life at the tollbooth at exit 16E, the Lincoln Tunnel approach, formerly a vertical coffin, suddenly has new meaning.
16E with its modest goals was more successful than the higher-aiming Pumping for Jill. Two guys who don't know each other well are working at a gas station, talking to pass the time between fill-ups. The degree of "poetry" involved, though - Axel (Jeff Maschi)'s longing for a customer seen only briefly a few years ago - borders more on psychotic than romantic. Axel doesn't seem mentally deficient; in fact he has the play's most trenchant moment - he replies, with a shrug, when asked by Looth (Rob Perry) what he thinks of the book he's reading (Kerouac's On the Road), "It's okay." But the characters' rhapsodies on women's lips and asses have more of a writer's reality than theatrical reality, and the audience merely waits to collect pieces of the puzzle - was Jill real? Was that even her name? Looth has his doubts, but would he have the vocabulary to give the psychological explanations he spouts? Axel has never even been to New York (not even for the Thanksgiving Day Parade?) and Maschi nearly made the longing real, but Perry was more intelligent than Looth seemed meant to be. And their off-stage visits to pump gas were far too short to accomplish the task (a small matter, but it contributed to the unrealness); the intimation of Looth's having his own "Jill" encounter was a writer's conceit, not the character's.
Where Pumping was completely successful was in its set, the employee-hangout area of the gas station. The detail was exactly right - the car seat, the shelves that held doughnuts, a baseball trophy, toilet paper, cans of oil. Lighting too worked its magic, unobtrusively highlighting Maschi when he told stories about Jill, or about his grandfather. 16E also had the same kind of character detail in its set, and a great lighting effect when the guys watched an off-stage television. (Playwright Dawson was designer for both plays.)
Pumping for Jill was previously reviewed in oobr (see review), and both plays were specifically set in the late '90s. Thus there is no mention of the World Trade Center drama, nor any reference to The Sopranos. Neither history nor pop culture stand still for an instant.
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16E |
Pumping for Jill |
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Writing |
2 |
1 |
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Directing |
2 |
1 |
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Acting |
2 |
1 |
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Set |
1 |
2 |
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Costumes |
1 |
1 |
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Lighting/Sound |
2 |
2 |
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Copyright 2001 David Mackler