Despite talent, Bogosian can't keep 'Humpty' from cracking

McCarter Theatre Center commissioned a world premiere through last week (March 29 through April 14), featuring the latest onstage production of actor/writer/mono-logist Eric Bogosian.

"Humpty Dumpty" is a two-act play about four disgustingly contemporary, cell phone-using, laptop-carrying urbanites who rent a renovated, "new age" barn in upstate New York for a week of relaxation.

When the electricity tragically goes out one night — and coincidentally, their cell phones run out of batteries at that same moment — the four are forced to do the unthinkable: to live without stock trades, refrigeration, Internet connections, and cable TV until the power outage is fixed.

As one week turns into two, the thirty-somethings must reconsider the meaning and purpose within their lives and relationships once the protective shell of modern goods — both material and social — has been broken.

While the themes are valid and certainly hit close to home, "Humpty Dumpty" nevertheless stunk like a rotten egg.

The curtain opens to reveal an unbelievably crafted, wood-paneled, ski lodge-like home, complete with kitchen and an overlooking balcony. But the amazing set is immediately tainted by the entrance of the characters.

Nicole (Kathryn Meisle) and Max (Bruce Norris) are the first to arrive at the luxurious lodging, both yacking incessantly on their cell phones while toting laptops and overpacked duffel bags.

The New York City-born-and-bred couple is soon joined by Los Angeles friends Troy (Patrick Fabian) and Spoon (short for "Spoonful" — her parents were hippies, she explains), played by Reiko Aylesworth.

Troy is perhaps the most self-absorbed and unlikable of the four. He has come equipped with a truly pretty boy wardrobe, the finest Merlot wine, Prozac ("just in case he wants to see the world from a different perspective"), caviar (which, following the loss of refrigeration, he delves into with his fingers) . . . and his actress girlfriend Spoon, whom he treats as another possession.

The four vacationers are highly unlikable, which probably accounted for my complete apathy in the second act. Bogosian's "urban yuppies" are supposed to be satirical, yet are incredibly annoying nonetheless.

The spoiled and naïve Spoon is absolutely grating. Her role consists of whining, getting high on weed and trying to convince the others of the surrounding natural beauty, with lines like: "Look at the sunset!" "Isn't it beautiful?" "Would you look at this view?!" There are too many failed dramatic and emotional attempts to constitute a satire. If I had wanted to see a soap opera, I could've just skipped my afternoon classes.

A small beam of sympathetic light is projected upon the characters, as, one by one, Bogosian much-too-blatantly presents the hardships of their modern niches through dialogue that is just short of sappy violin accompaniment.

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Max, suffering several symptoms of midlife crisis — particularly career angst — is the first to be exposed. "I want to be embraced . . . I want the world to be aware of me," he declares to his wife.

Nicole herself is a high-powered publishing house editor who is always on the fast track, and has lately been laden with a clamoring biological clock.

It is possible that Bogosian, of "Sex Drugs, Rock & Roll" fame, mirrors Max's confusion, as the writer evidently resists selling out for fame and money. Bogosian's own career has, as Donald Gilpin of Town Topics declares, "been split between Hollywood and New York, between lucrative film contracts as writer and actor and dynamic groundbreaking work in Off-Broadway theater."

You might still be wondering how this decidedly new-age production shares the title of an age-old nursery rhyme. In the latter half of the play, Nicole — evidently at the end of her rope — directs a monologue towards Max, discussing the perfection of an egg's structure. She holds it up to the light as if it were Yorrick's skull, and then, ever so dramatically — drops it.

At this point, the couples have been "stranded" for two weeks, and thus the food supply is scant. As a frustrated Max begins to mop up the egg mess, Nicole begins dropping the rest of the eggs while vindictively reciting the lyrics to the nursery rhyme. Interpret the symbolism however you see fit.

When the energy sources finally return in the last scene (I hope that doesn't give anything away), Max is finally able to phone his boss, who seems to be explain-ing on the other end of the line that some type of event has occurred and that it was fortunate that Max was not present in the City at the time. Very disturbing is the fact that the script was written prior to September 11.

Bogosian's final script, which refers to American societal trademarks, including Starbucks, Hollywood, and even a brief reference to smallpox and anthrax.

Despite the attention to detail, the scenario as a whole is unlikely. Four career people are "stranded" in a vacation home for two weeks when there is not even a flake of snow on the ground? Pretty hard to believe.

There are also many awkward scene changes within these already-flawed premises. The changes merely interrupt a great deal of unexciting banter and filler-dialogue. Given Bogosian's prior work, and considering the potentially-entertaining premise, "Humpty Dumpty" is disappointing.

As this world premiere continues its tour, McCarter will welcome a more traditional piece. Stephen Wadsworth's adaptation of "Don Juan" (based on Moliére's play, originally produced in 1665) will be playing April 30-May 19. Let's hope that this production will prove a bit more . . . 'sunny side up' than Bogosian's premiere.