This post contains significant spoilers for Roundabout Theatre Company's production of "Love, Love, Love."
There's a moment late in Act 3 of Mike Bartlett's
Love, Love, Love,
currently playing
at Roundabout Theatre Company's Laura Pels Theatre, where Zoe Kazan's
adult Rose asks her financially comfortable baby boomer parents Kenneth
and Sandra (played
by Richard Armitage and Amy Ryan) for a house. After all, her failures
are, she believes, her parents' fault. After a discussion -- which
plays to me more
like a
temper tantrum by an insufferable, entitled brat on Rose's part --
Kenneth delivers his answer to his daughter in a final, single,
powerfully declarative word: No.
To
me, Kenneth, though deeply flawed and self-absorbed himself, was the only likeable character
on stage in a family epitomizing pure selfishness. This is perhaps because
throughout the play, even when he ultimately chooses in his own
self-interest, he is the only character who seems capable of genuinely
considering both sides of an issue and the impact both his and others' choices and
decisions might make on the future and on those around him. "I've always said big
things," he declares late in Act 3 after Sandra responds
to a
life-changing "I want" statement of his by pointing out the bigness of
what he's stated -- and indeed, more than either his wife or his
daughter, he seems to actually think through his decisions rather than
carelessly verbalizing every thought.
Though Rose's house request (or is it a demand?)
puts Kenneth in a complicated and emotionally difficult position and forces him to face the results of his parenting choices, to me his
response is absolutely correct given the extent of what Rose is
asking and the reason for her asking. Yet that was audibly not the
opinion held by my Millenial neighbors. After being confused about why I
disliked Rose so much in Act 2 (when she is a teenager), I realized in
that moment that it was for the same reason I disliked the mother she
holds in such contempt: both refuse to take responsibility for their
actions, seem incapable of introspection, and appear to believe they
have a right to be the center of attention and of good will at all
times. But while the mother is assertive and simply claims the attention she believes she deserves, never concerned about the
destruction she leaves in her wake, Rose just mopes and whines about
being treated unfairly and screams her voice to shreds like a
5-year-old. As she threw her final anger-filled tantrum of the play, I
realized the play was, to me, a scathing condemnation of a generation
that feels entitled to handouts and shirks responsibility for their own
failures while instead blaming them on the greed of others who have been
more successful. Rose (and by extension the generation for which she stands) appears to adopt the
position that if someone else CAN pay
for something, they therefore SHOULD. And while I supported Kenneth
in his refusal, I realized that many of the Millenials around me were
nodding in support of Rose's "my life is your fault" speeches in Act 3
and even quietly-but-very-negatively vocally reacting to Kenneth's
response. The young people in the audience around me seemed to support
the notion that Kenneth was a selfish representation of an older
generation that is to blame for their life struggles -- the very view
Rose holds of her own father.
To
them, the play was a condemnation of the baby boomer
generation who choose to use the money they've earned as they see fit
rather than accept blame and responsibility for the failures of the
generation they raised. And Kenneth was the embodiment of that greed. While I can't remember the last time I was so
put off by a main non-villain character as I was by Rose, I would have
loved to turn to my neighbors and ask for their opinion on Kenneth.
I
suspect the play, though clearly finding fault with both generations,
ultimately condemns whichever side you want it to, and which character is likeable
is most likely to be whichever you see yourself in the most. Though I
avoided reading any reviews from earlier productions before I'd seen this one, reviews from
an earlier British production
seem to be of the opinion that the play (and the playwright's message)
attempts to unequivocally support Rose's position and point of view.
Perhaps if played differently (i.e., like someone who's aware there are
other people in the world and that screaming and crying don't and
shouldn't always get you what you want) Rose could appear more
sympathetic to me -- which is not to say that I had an issue with the
character's portrayal here. To me, she was very real, very believable,
and very wrong. And every inch as selfish as her parents. Did she
bring up valid points? Absolutely. Did she have an emotionally absent
and enormously selfish mother and a father who, though he clearly loves her, should
be a better listener and stand up to the mother more? If her 16th birthday is any indication, then yes, absolutely. Did I hear her Act 3
speech as "this is what the playwright thinks is absolute truth?"
Absolutely not. But part of the beauty of art, whether it's writing,
film, music, visual, or theatre, is its ability to inspire discussion
and debate. If the play were to end with Rose's attack on her parents
playing as a calm, rational, in-the-right lecture to the audience with
the assurance of her moral superiority granted by the creative team, I
believe the play would lose its power. Its power is in the ambiguity
and the lack of easy answers -- because that is where rational thought
kicks in.
So hopefully, regardless of the personal opinions of the
playwright, the director, or the rest of the team,
Love, Love, Love
will create debate and discussion among both generations. It's a
discussion which the onstage family seems incapable of having maturely
without shouting -- though the conversation between Rose's parents in
the final moments of the play, when their adult children are offstage,
suggests that they have, after all, matured throughout the years and are
capable of at least beginning to rationally explore both sides of the
argument. After expressing to Kenneth her profound disappointment in
Rose's generation ("Standing on our shoulders, I thought our kids would
reach impossible
heights...... They sit on computers not living, typing messages about
nothing. Watching meaningless videos and waiting for Friday night.
They don't read, they
don't work. They don't think. They want it all on a plate, and then
strangely, when nothing arrives, it's our fault. What happened?"),
Sandra nevertheless immediately turns to questioning how much of that
failure they are in fact responsible for. It's a conversation well
worth including the younger generation in -- if that conversation
doesn't dissolve into screaming and sarcastic barbs. Hopefully the
audience leaving the production can prove to have better and more
inclusive communication skills than the onstage family.
And a note about
Richard Armitage's performance as Kenneth -- It is a masterful performance that spans nearly 50 years (
with no more apparent aid of hair and makeup than a comb-forward as a 19-year-old and some silver streaks as a 65-year-old) with
an internal completeness that has eluded many actors in more high-profile, widely
renowned, makeup-and-special-effects-enhanced performances.
The 65-year-old comes not
from a limp or a hunch, nor does the 19-year-old come from a
stereotypical representation of a young person's posturing and
cadences, as can be too often seen on stage -- rather the age Armitage
is
portraying at any given time simply comes from the internal character;
the way he lives in his body, his voice, his face, IS that of a
19-year-old, a 42-yeayr-old, a 65-year-old -- it is neither a cartoon imitation
of those ages nor a reliance on a gimmick, and it therefore allows a
richness of character in the performance that was a delight to watch.
I
love theatre that makes me think, and I
love brilliant acting
performances that convey an endless depth of intelligent thought and
conflict beneath the surface.
Love, Love, Love has both those
attributes. Plus Beatles music.
