by Ashley Pabilonia with contributions by Stephanie Whitehall
Zach Braff first won me over in Scrubs as John "JD" Dorian, where his goofy antics to cope with the day-to-day stresses of hospital life highlighted the life lessons he summarized at the end of every episode. His writing and directorial effort combined with his starring role in Garden State introduced me to a moodier, contemplative, yet hopeful side of him. I've appreciated Braff as a well-rounded talent since then, so it's no surprise All New People piqued my interests. I left Jobsite Theater's production of his play happy I bought my last-minute ticket for its first showing and finagled my friend Stephanie into joining along.
The play opens with Charlie, a 35-year-old supposed fighter pilot, in his friend Kevin's family vacation home, standing on an armchair smoking a cigarette and a noose around his neck as Riverdance music blares. Emma, a British ex-patriot trying to rent out the house for the winter, barges into the scene, and Charlie stumbles off the chair dangling and choking until she gathers herself to help him back on it to remove the noose. She then assumes the role as "Charlie's Angel" to convince him to keep living. Her panic shows she may be in over her head -- apparent when she fidgets with a piece of African wall art during an awkward silence and scatters the beads on the floor, which coaxed laughs out of the audience. If one unexpected guest has triggered Charlie's ire, Emma's friend Myron arrives with a "special" delivery and Kim drops by as Kevin's "present" to cheer Charlie up. While they ramble into irreverent non-sequiturs and play around the house, Charlie just wants them to leave him alone and in peace with his depression, the source of which is explored as the play pans out.
Each of the other characters either try to help Charlie to enjoy the last minutes of the life he's determined to end or weed out the truth behind why he attempted suicide in the first place. All New People reveals in video flashbacks, nuanced verbal references, and an emotionally charged, climatic confession session prompted by Myron that everyone in the house carries their own baggage, yet here they continue on. What makes Charlie's tragic past so special that he can choose to end the suffering? The play ends after everyone has admitted to their personal demons and Charlie, the very soul the others tried to save, tells a bawling Emma, and by extension Myron and Kim, that everything is going to be okay.
Whether Charlie believes that or is just trying to console Emma isn't relevant. To me, his declaration is a statement about the human condition, that complete closure to life's happenings, good or bad, isn't possible. The character's pasts find ways to haunt them, regardless of the miles traveled, funds extorted, or drugs indulged in -- remember Myron's delivery? -- to escape them. However, people can come to terms and overcome the hurdles, emerging as "all new people" along the way.
Each of the other characters either try to help Charlie to enjoy the last minutes of the life he's determined to end or weed out the truth behind why he attempted suicide in the first place. All New People reveals in video flashbacks, nuanced verbal references, and an emotionally charged, climatic confession session prompted by Myron that everyone in the house carries their own baggage, yet here they continue on. What makes Charlie's tragic past so special that he can choose to end the suffering? The play ends after everyone has admitted to their personal demons and Charlie, the very soul the others tried to save, tells a bawling Emma, and by extension Myron and Kim, that everything is going to be okay.
Whether Charlie believes that or is just trying to console Emma isn't relevant. To me, his declaration is a statement about the human condition, that complete closure to life's happenings, good or bad, isn't possible. The character's pasts find ways to haunt them, regardless of the miles traveled, funds extorted, or drugs indulged in -- remember Myron's delivery? -- to escape them. However, people can come to terms and overcome the hurdles, emerging as "all new people" along the way.
Jobsite Theater's production of Braff's play drew out of Stephanie and me every emotional response in the spectrum. Anger stirred in my chest when Myron coaxed Emma to reveal why she fled England and he stormed out of the house, just after my jaw quivered during his earlier confession how he fell from grace as a drama teacher. Stephanie cried along with Emma in the last scene. And while Kim seems comparatively superficial through no fault of her actress but in how she's written, I applauded moments when she took charge of her circumstances despite how her escort status would have her owned by "the man" embodied by Kevin. The cast's animated interaction with their props symbolized how deeply their characters' issues affected them. Their aforementioned escapist drug use played a role throughout the performance. On different occasions they slipped on the African beads, like how they're susceptible to fall down after seeming to move on with their lives. The directorial choice to roll the characters' flashbacks over the window curtains was especially genius and evocative of the saying "window to the soul."
A Huffington Post writer hails All New People "the defining play of a generation." I have to echo endorsing the play. If you can, drop by Straz Center and catch it before Jobsite's final show on June 1st for a darkly funny, poignant look at our own existence.