Homecomings can be a tricky thing, as Chloë Grace Moretz’s Maddie learns in Preston Max Allen’s absorbing new domestic drama Caroline. After fleeing home as a teenager amid drug-fueled rebellion, stealing from her well-heeled parents in the leafy Chicago suburb of Evanston, and crashing out of several rehab programs, Maddie has struck out on her own and made no contact with her parents for over a decade. Until she finds herself in a situation where she feels she has no where else to turn. The cop boyfriend she’s been dating has lashed out violently at the 9-year-old daughter she’s been raising solo, leaving young Caroline’s left arm in a sling, and Maddie’s grabbed their suitcases and hit the road with a vague plan to seek reconciliation and some financial and emotional support from her folks.
Allen reveals the contours of Maddie and Caroline’s situation methodically, beginning with a diner visit halfway between their West Virginia starting point and Illinois, and then in a series of conversations with Maddie’s mom, Rhea (Transparent alum Amy Landecker), who greets her prodigal daughter with suspicion and pointed questions rooted in a long history of disappointments and squandered chances. (Director David Cromer relies on Tyler Micoleau’s lighting to shift the focus to different location’s on Lee Jellinek’s wide set.) Since they’ve been out of touch for a decade, Rhea is unaware that she has a grandchild or that Maddie has been sober for eight years (she owns up to a short relapse shortly after Caroline’s birth).
Rhea, whose folded-arms-over-cardigan-sweater body language signals just how much her guard is up, seems surprisingly open to the revelation that Caroline is transgender. (“Of course, we’re not Republicans,” she insists to Maddie). It’s the circumstance that triggered the ex-boyfriend’s outrage (he caught Caroline wearing a dress) and also convinced Maddie to pull up stakes and settle in a more progressive community like Evanston that might offer more accommodations in schools, health care, and other resources.
Allen doles out much of this exposition gradually, allowing for the three-person cast to sketch in characters who in many moments feel both natural and lived-in. Lipe-Smith is the rare child actor who projects a precociousness that doesn’t seem too stagey, insisting on Caroline’s basic truth and sense of boundaries (she initially doesn’t want Maddie to tell her mom that she’s trans) while also showing welcome signs of a kid seeking to exploit sudden opportunities. After being allowed brownies and soda at the diner, she decides to press her advantage in the motel room where they stop en route to Evanston. “How long do I get to have whatever I want?” she asks her mom. “Can I get a Switch?”
Moretz, who made her New York stage debut a decade ago at age 17 in the Steven Soderbergh-directed school-shooting drama The Library, creates a portrait of a forthright young woman who’s clearly endured some hardships but has come out the other side with her head on her shoulders. There’s a mother-lion fierceness and determination to her performance, but also a softer, mindful side that jibes with her in-recovery insistence on honesty and accountability. She’s upfront about her daily struggles to remain sober with her mom, and she shows a similar leave-nothing-back attitude when fielding Caroline’s repeated questions over how the particles in Tylenol reduce pain exactly. “I don’t know. It’s just magic,” she initially says with some exasperation, then quickly follows: “But it’s not, it’s science.” It’s a small detail, but it signals just how much she’s changed from the rebellious, blue-haired teenager of her past.
Despite Landecker’s best efforts to humanize a woman who carries herself with rigid propriety even when enjoying a nighttime glass of wine alone in her kitchen, Rhea emerges as more of a stock villain. She’s the sort of woman who establishes rapport with her granddaughter while gently interrogating her about Maddie’s parenting skills. And she shows a similar needling doggedness with Maddie, dredging up instances of her out-of-control behavior as a drug-addled teenager and then urging her to go back to school and pursue a job more challenging than the manager of a PetSmart. Part of the difficulty is the compressed timeline of the story, which unfolds over just a few eventful days. And the absence of Rhea’s husband and Maddie’s dad — away on a work trip when they pull into the old driveway — makes the chain of events in the final third of the script seem rushed and implausible.
That’s a shame, because there’s so much to admire in how Caroline skillfully raises issues about whether we can truly make amends for our past mistakes — or rebuild our trust in those who have betrayed it. In the end, it’s the precocious title character who has the most insightful read on the situation. Sometimes it takes a child to lead us. ★★★★☆
CAROLINE
MCC Theater, Off Broadway
Running time: 90 minutes (with no intermission)
Tickets on sale through November 2 for $50 to $150
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