Assistant Editor STID MERKEL’S MY ARTS COLUMN Annie Baker’s ‘John’
The Particulars The subject: ACT’s ‘John’ Where: Strand Theater Price: 35 to 90 buckaroos
Ya know, I’ve seen a few Kenneth Lonergan and Neil LaBute plays in my life. I can trace five of my failed marriages to those two idiots. And NOW, with my newest wife, Maggie, I sit down to see Annie Baker’s three-hour “John” — after barely surviving her Pulitzered “The Flick” with my last one. It’s about this young couple who HATE each other while sitting in a B&B (ironically being watched by 150 couples who probably hate each other sitting in this theater). It’s excruciating. SPOILER ALERT: Turns out the gal, Jenny, had an affair with some guy named “John” — hence the title of the play. Also, another character — who is blind — has a former husband also named ... John. And in another amazing coincidence — and due to the friggin’ play’s
length — I had an ongoing obsession with the theater’s john, as in TOILET. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maggie, bless her, could tell my thoughts were with “john” the entire time. That porcelain-elephant-inthe-room hung over us for three hours. Thank you, Annie Baker. Yes, crush our hopes of EVER finding long-lasting love, just as Lonergan and LaBute did before you, but just do it with MORE friggin’ bathroom breaks. Why do playwrights hate us so much?
‘John,’ ‘Passengers’
As I slowly filled up wth my imprisoned urine, I began realizing I had seen this
story before. During the holidays, again trusting an inexplicable rave review from the INSANE Mick LaSalle, I took my Maggie to the execrable “Passengers,” about a couple stuck in a spaceship after waking from their cryogenic chambers 86 years too early. Girl is mad at the guy for waking her up (for “companionship”). So ... Maggie wakes ME up just about 15 minutes into “Passengers,” forcing me to watch the rest of the movie. AND THEN she does the SAME THING during this “John” play, except it’s a PLAY so YOU CAN’T GO PEE UNTIL THEY TELL YOU. I forgive “Passengers.”
Marriage is an Annie Baker play
You can’t sleep through it, and there aren’t enough intermissions.