Every human, no matter how unlikable, has a soul mate. That’s the hidden message in Philip Roth’s 1995 novel Sabbath’s Theater, which Ariel Levy and John Turturro have adapted into a one-act showcase for Turturro and the great Elizabeth Marvel. (The New Group production, directed by Jo Bonney, opened Thursday at Off Broadway’s Signature Theatre venue.)
For Turturro’s Mickey Sabbath, finding a soul mate is no mean feat. He’s an overly intellectual misanthrope, a failed theater artist and academic (fired for sexually harassing a student), a serial adulterer and perv who steals the panties of his best friend’s 15-year-old daughter. But somehow, he’s managed to find a similarly sex-starved partner in Marvel’s Drenka, a Croatian refugee who forges a connection with Mickey (and with other men) that seems to go beyond the carnal. Indeed, the show opens with the pair mid-coitus, the projection of an animated vagina foreshadowing the Rothian raunch that is to come.
We soon learn that Drenka has cancer — and Mickey does not take well to the loss of his extramarital sweetheart, or to the rejection of his long-suffering wife who’s also kept a roof over his head after his multiple professional failures. Mickey goes into a tailspin, dredging up recollections of his difficult, dismissive mother and the brother who never came home from a stint in an overseas war. And he proceeds to alienate just about everyone he encounters, with multiple characters evocatively and convincingly played by Marvel as well as Jason Kravits.
Bonney supplements the storytelling with some theatrical flair, from Alex Basco Koch’s projections to Erik Sanko’s shadow puppets to Jeff Croiter’s lighting on the simple but versatile set by Arnulfo Maldonado. And Turturro keeps up an almost constant banter that goes a long way to soften Mickey’s many, many rough edges — but there’s no escaping the fact that this is a failed professional puppeteer whose attempts to manipulate everyone around him have seldom paid off. “You live in the failure of this civilization. To be out with that belly of yours, championing pornography and flying the flag of your prick,” his pal Norman (Kravits) tells him just before kicking him out of his home. “What a pathetic, outmoded old crank you are, Mickey Sabbath.”
He’s not wrong. Turturro puts a brave face on Mickey’s stubborn iconoclasm, even stripping down completely in a late scene that is meant to show the character’s tragic vulnerability. He begins to realize that he can’t always pull the strings of the humans around him, that he can’t prevent Drenka’s death (or claim her affections exclusively), and his monologue increasingly revolves around thoughts of suicide. But as you might expect from Roth, this development is nothing more than a narrative feint — because it’s clear that Mickey is far too big a narcissist to ever follow through.
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