The Mother

C+

Atlantic Theater Company is presenting the New York premiere of Florian Zeller’s drama about a middle-age woman with a severe case of empty-nest syndrome. You may remember another play by Zeller from a few seasons back, The Father starring Frank Langella as an older man sinking into dementia. The current play, actually written four years before The Father, is, in my opinion, considerably less artful. (The third part of the trilogy, The Son, just opened in London to enthusiastic reviews.) In both plays there are scenes presented in multiple variations. In The Father, everything was presented from the title character’s point of view, and charted his decline. In the current play, the motivation for the variations is less clear and the result is less involving. Fortunately, the woman who loves her son too much and her husband too little is played by Isabelle Huppert (“Elle,” Medea) , always a compelling presence. Chris Noth (Farragut North, The Best Man) is effective as her perplexed husband. The Son struggling for independence is well-played by Justice Smith (Yen). Odessa Young (Days of Rage) is also fine as The Girl. I think that Trip Cullman’s (Lobby Hero, Days of Rage) direction veers toward the gimmicky and values style over substance. Does the scenic design by Mark Wendland (Six Degrees of Separation) really benefit from a modern white sectional that seats 14 and sinks into the floor between scenes? Should there be a ridiculous number of prescription bottles scattered below it? Is there a point to placing Ms. Huppert on that sofa reading a book for 15 minutes before the play begins? The costumes by Anita Yavich (Fool for Love, The Legend of Georgia McBride) are apt. There are a few dramatic moments along the way, but there is an abstracted distancing feel to the production that dulls their impact. While I was happy to have the opportunity to see Ms. Huppert and, to a lesser extent, Mr. Noth, I was disappointed that the play never approached the quality of The Father. Running time: one hour 20 minutes, no intermission.

Yen

C

Anna Jordan’s prize-winning drama about three members of a British underclass family and their neighbor is having its New York premiere in an MCC production at the Lucille Lortel Theatre. Hench and Bobbie are teenage half-brothers who are living alone and unsupervised in their alcoholic diabetic mother Maggie’s flat after she moves out to live with her current boyfriend. Hench (Lucas Hedges of “Manchester by the Sea” in an impressive stage debut) is a sullen, emotionally constricted 16-year-old who has nightmares and wets the bed. Bobbie (the impressive Justice Smith) is a hyperactive potty-mouthed 14-year-old (in London the character was only 13) who has unspecified special needs. The boys spend their time playing violent video games and watching porn. Their unseen dog Taliban, so named because he is vicious and brown, is confined to their spare room because he bit someone the last time they let him out. The brothers spot Maggie (Ari Graynor, who looks too pretty and kempt) passed out on the street and bring her in to sober her up. Later the boys are visited by Jennifer (Stefania LaVie Owen), a sweet-dispositioned 16-year-old neighbor, recently arrived from Wales, who is concerned about Taliban’s possible mistreatment. She becomes friendly with the brothers, particularly Hench, who also is stirred by feelings for her. It all turns out very badly. The production is ill-served by an intermission that disrupts the play’s flow. Somehow the play gained 20 minutes since London, where it was performed without a break. The thick working-class British accents and, to a lesser extent, the Welsh accent are challenging. The plot has a few contrivances that make no sense. The brothers have to share one shirt, because they left their laundry with their grandmother the day before she disappeared with her immigrant boyfriend. Was one of them running around shirtless that day? There is too little context for the characters. We never learn what demons bedevil Hench or, for that matter, why he is called Hench. Trip Cullman (Punk Rock) commits one of the cardinal (at least in my book) sins of directing: shining bright lights in the audience’s eyes. The set by Mark Wendland is efficient but uninspired. The costumes by Pamela Young are apt. When it was all over, I had to ask myself what was the play’s point. Is it just a slice of life about the British lower classes? A screed about the evils of porn and video games? A cautionary tale about bad parenting? Judge for yourself if you are so inclined. Running time: 2 hours 10 minutes including intermission.