It’s over the hoarder-line
AUDIENCES are known to break into applause at the sight of a cool set. By those standards, the one in the new offBroadway play “The Capables” deserves a standing ovation.
The stage looks as if scenic designers George Hoffmann and Greg Kozatek had spent years pillaging yard sales, then artfully arranged their loot. There are piles of VHS tapes and tiedup magazines, towering peaks of stuffed animals and plastic toys. You think you’re looking at a mountain range made of knickknacks.
If only Jay Stull’s play measured up to this painstaking awesomeness.
The avalanche of stuff onstage has been accumulated over 15 years by Anna Capable (Dale Soules, last seen in “Hands on a Hardbody”). They make her feel “safe,” this crusty old broad says.
Her daughter, Jessy (Katie Eisenberg), sees things differently. In addition to being disquieting, all this crap creates an obstacle course for her aging, nearly blind father, Jonah (Hugh Sinclair). It’s not fun to clean up when he doesn’t reach the bathroom fast enough.
The Capables’ situation could easily fill a play, but Stull adds a whole extra layer: Jessy signs up her family for an exploitative “Hoarders” type reality show. She says she loves her mom and wants her to clean up her act, so to speak.
When the TV crew arrives, it’s just as awful and clichéd as you’d expect. Shrill therapist Jenny (Jessie Barr) brags about working with “retarded children.” Amoral, manipulative producer David (Charles Browning) stops at nothing to create “spontaneous and authentic displays of emotion.”
The action is set in workingclass Virginia, and there’s a whiff of condescension toward those quirky South erners. But then, the playwright’s not treating the audience much better, and spells everything out at great length.
Clearly, it’s not just Anna who can’t throw anything out: The scenes meander pointlessly. When Jessy and the cameraman, Tommy (Micah Stock), get high, their stoned conversation goes on and on, with no end or point in sight.
The cast mostly fares well under Stefanie Abel Horowitz’s direction, with Soules and Sinclair rising to the occasion in their heartbreaking final scene. It’s too late, but at least some emotional honesty peeks through the clutter.