MurphyMade
Playwright Levi Holloway’s “Grey House” arrives on Broadway with the atmosphere of a chilling cinematic thriller. The heart rate is indeed increasing, and the mind races forward with every blackout and every bang. But apart from a few fleeting, uncomfortable images of dead pigeons, dogs and a mutilated limb, the fear here is an intellectualized, existential experience.
More akin to an eerily meditative film noir than a Jason Blum fear fest, Gray House, which premiered at Chicago’s A Red Orchid Theater in 2019, is reminiscent of John Huston’s Key Largo with its mix of unwanted visitors and scheming housemates. from 1948 . It’s also a nod to Eugène Ionesco, using fate and grief as psychic guides, and is similarly reminiscent of Sam Shepherd’s miserable Curse of the Starving Class, with persecuted teenage girls on the front lines.
But are they actually teenage girls? Deaf, tinkering Bernie, precocious Marlow, nimble squirrel and friendly, curious and surprisingly named A1656 are Mama Raleigh’s (Laurie Metcalf) daughters who all live together in a house in the woods. On a snowy night, cross-country travelers Max (Tatiana Maslany) and Henry (Paul Sparks), who were ambushed by accident (or fate?), come to visit.
Who is this much older “daughter” peeking out from under the sofa cushions? What’s in the dry ice smoky basement? Why is the “elixir” Henry drinks to relieve his pain named and dated after previous visitors to the home? Why does Max insist on playing hellish mind games with these kids when all they want to do is unlock her secrets? What the hell is stopping Max and Henry from leaving this gray house?
These mind-bending puzzles fuel Holloway’s challenging experiential meditation on the predestination of pain. For while the playwright made notes about grieving children who suffered horrific deaths at the hands of men in need of love, those ideas flow into Gray House with poetry rather than concreteness. The desolate shades of gray here represent purgatory, a way station between heaven and hell. Who will end up where and how badly injured they are when they leave are the only questions that find any solution at the end of the game.
The script can be lengthy and the metaphors piling up that Jenga blocks, but Gray House’s offbeat lyrics never lack intrigue and intriguing intrigue. And the show’s good cast and creative minds do their best to make everything less inscrutable.
Director Joe Mantello (“Wicked,” the original “Take Me Out”) and his collaborators (particularly set designer Scott Pask and lighting designer Natasha Katz) transform a shadowy living room into a (barely) living, breathing entity, and turn the cast into a proactive participant in this slow, fast-talking horror. From Lynchian’s dazzling flashes of light to an endless array of baby dolls — not to mention the unexpectedly interactive cubbyholes and scary pile of discarded men’s shoes — Mantello sets a spooky table for his cast.
Portrayed by Metcalf, housemother Raleigh is always gruff but vocally infatuated with her adopted brood. Metcalf’s facial twitches and hilarious interpretations of Holloway’s dialogue about the stench of decay often complement the dark comedy of her fate, and her offstage torture scene surprises as a raucous climax.
As Max, Claire Karpen (who represented Tatiana Maslany in the performance discussed) without fuss and excitement engages in confusion and resignation. Karpens Max is confused by her relationship with the self-flagellation Henry and weighed down by grief for his recently deceased father and sister. He’s scared but ready for the next act – and for someone to love who won’t die. As Henry, Sparks is resilient and electrifying.
The most haunting and haunting performance comes from Sophia Anne Caruso as Marlow. Caruso, the actress who created the chilling child lead of Lydia in Beetlejuice: The Musical, knows how to play with fear, disgust and cutting dialogue. Clever and aching vulnerability, Caruso is the tenacious, irresistible heart of Gray House and its sonorous deathblow.