There are throwbacks and then there’s The Art of Leaving, a new one-act comedy that could pass for a middling revival of a Neil Simon knockoff from a half century ago. The characters in Anne Marilyn Lucas’ script seem to be stuck in a time warp untouched by feminism, self-awareness, or just about any sign of modernity. The story centers on a Princeton-educated finance guy in his late 50s who lives in a nicely appointed apartment on the Upper East Side (beautifully designed by Frank J. Oliva) that looks like the height of ’90s chic with its chrome and leather furniture and walls of rich gray.
Aaron, though, is unhappy. Mind you, he doesn’t look unhappy as played by the broad-shouldered, ever-chipper Jordan Lage, whose sole concession to his stated mood is an exaggerated perma-frown. Aaron has fallen under the sway of a “male satisfaction” guru who believes men “are like trees — their sap gets drained by the females in their lives.” So naturally he decides to divorce his absurdly devoted wife, Diana (Audrey Heffernan Meyer, appealing unflappable throughout), a decision that he plans to spring on her in the presence of his parents (Alan Ceppos and Pamela Shaw), his grad student son, Jason (Brian Mason), and Jason’s fiancée (Molly Chiffer). “Dr. Stang feels the element of surprise yields a better outcome,” Aaron obliviously explains. “You’ll need to help her through the devastating loss of me.”
Surprise is key because none of the show’s premise makes any sense. Aaron doesn’t have a mistress, just a sense that he might be missing out on other romantic and life opportunities as he nears 60. He also doesn’t own the apartment he shares with his wife, making his plan to book a hotel room for her all the more bizarre. And Diana is an implausibly supportive wife, sidelining her own career ambitions as an artist and museum curator to attend to Aaron’s unreasonable demands (even enduring his withering criticism when she substitutes organic turkey for chicken in his lunch sandwich). This, from a woman who’s curating a big exhibit at the nation’s top art museum. (“Not my cup of tea,” Aaron scoffs.)
Aaron’s family is just as flummoxed as the audience by his behavior — even his mother, a Jewish Long Islander for whom her son ordinarily can do no wrong. But they stick around, offering support to both Diana and Aaron, ordering Chinese food, and exchanging dialogue that has the shape and contour of sitcom jokes but with punchlines that seem more like placeholders to be filled in later. (“I wanted stamina, I got sciatica,” Aaron’s dad, Felix, quips at one point.)
The cast is all game, but they’re saddled with roles that are no more than types, in full-volume stereo. Ceppos and Shaw stand out as pros delivering a certain kind of TV-ready back-and-forth. But the script keeps letting everyone down, especially the subplot for the twentysomethings that revolves around the possibility of an open relationship. It’s a mystery what this modern woman, an academic in gender and sexuality, could possibly see in Jason — or how she could hold her tongue for so long at all the blatant misogyny promulgated over the course of the show. It’s also a puzzle how an aspiring therapist could fail to articulate his own desires and boundaries for so long — and then choose to open up in front of his entire family.
But that’s how things go in The Art of Leaving. Director Matt Gehring keeps the action moving, perhaps so the audience can’t dwell on how thin both the plot and characterization are. The tempo also leads to some odd staging choices, with characters standing on the furniture to move around the not-really-that-cramped living room set or congregating in ways that only TV characters do. There’s not much art here, but the desire to leave remains. ★★☆☆☆
THE ART OF LEAVING
Signature Center, Off Broadway
Running time: 95 minutes (with no intermission)
Tickets on sale through December 14 for $49 to $129
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