The Broadway Theatre Review: MTC’s Mary Jane

By Ross

I almost forgot that I had seen this play before, downtown at the New York Theatre Workshop. It starred the talented Carrie Coon, who now is embedded in my mind in a very different form, based on her glittering hard turn on “The Gilded Age.” The two frameworks almost don’t compute, feeling like two very different creations that couldn’t possibly come from the same form (I gues that’s what makes her so talented an actor). This is much like the star of Broadway’s re-staging of Mary Jane, but in reverse. Rachel McAdams long ago entered into my heart after watching her gloriously engaging sweet role in Season One of “Slings & Arrows“ and also her iconic turn in “The Notebook” film, but these forms shared little resemblance to the character she played in the now epic “Mean Girls” where she was the evil and vengeful Regina George. I still have a hard time bringing those characterizations and performances together into the same performer even as I write this. But planted here, in Manhattan Theatre Club‘s renewal of Mary Jane, McAdams sits clearly in the realm that I like her in; tender, engaging, kind, concerned, and smiling in a manner that only the wonderfully talented McAdams can with such clarity

Leaning towards positivity at almost every turn, equal to how she leans into her emotional connections with those around her, McAdams finds beautiful tender engagement as the titled character in Amy Herzog’s stunningly quiet play, Mary Jane. She delivers earthy warmth in her smile, particularly in that first scene that she shares with her young son’s home-care nurse, Sherry, steadfastly and intuitively portrayed by the magnificent April Matthis (Broadway’s The Piano Lesson). Finishing each other’s sentences as if they were long-time partners, Mary Jane presents a life that is “on hold for a minute.”  And possibly a lot longer. The father of Alex, only spoken about now and then, wasn’t able to find his way. He couldn’t, she tells us, handle the stress that her son, Alex, and his fraught birth, has brought home to roost, and the man flies the coop.  Mary Jane, so full of goodness and fortitude, doesn’t hold any anger or frustration against him, she explains in that kind manner that registers authentically and from the heart.  She hopes he finds peace.  And we hope the same for her, although what that might mean to Mary Jane is a lot more complicated than what it means for her former husband.  Mary Jane’s peace, sadly will most likely only come entwined in a devastating tragedy and loss.

When Alex was born, her life changed direction in a quick short moment.  And that is because Mary Jane’s child was born prematurely with a host of problems that will not just go away.  Alex, as we slowly discover, will never get better, only worse.  The details are teased out to us through some of the most elegantly written intimate and everyday conversations Mary Jane has with all those she comes into contact with: her stunningly sincere and deadpan building super, played most beautifully by Brenda Wehle (Broadway’s The Crucible); Alex’s home-care nurse, Sherry; Sherry’s niece, Amelia, portrayed by an impressive Lily Santiago (Red Bull’s Mac Beth); and the beautifully nuanced Susan Pourfar (2ST’s Mary Page Marlowe), as both a similarly challenged new mother, Brianne, and a more well-honed similarly challenged mother of many, named Chaya. Brianne has come by the apartment for clear and helpful guidance from the constantly giving and sturdy mother, Mary Jane, and in a clever kind way, Mary Jane gets that help back from Chaya later in the hospital when she needs it the most.

We never do see Alex close up, because what Herzog (Belleville; Broadway’s A Doll’s House), and the play’s wonderfully calculating director, Anne Kauffman (Broadway’s The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window) have done here is to not give this story over to Alex. Instead, they have channeled their focus onto a mother trying with all her might and energy to stay connected to the feeling of love she has for her son. She won’t allow herself to fall into a state of despair or anger. Mary Jane is constantly in a positive and forward motion, focusing her surprising energy on upbeat chatter and personal connection. Worrying more about the garden of Alex’s nurse, than the dark clouds and symbolic home life that hang over their heads. Literally, thanks to the fine work done by scenic designer Lael Jellinek (Broadway’s Sea Wall/A Life), lighting designer Ben Stanton (MTC’s The Collaboration), and sound designer Leah Gelpe (PH’s Log Cabin).

And then it happens, the thing that we were consciously, or maybe unconsciously waiting for. It’s the arrival of that lump of anticipation and dread that has been slowly building in our throat; a feeling that Mary Jane refuses to buy into. We know that eventually, some sort of alarm or shift will happen, and we, in no way, will be able to remain in that cozy one-bedroom apartment in Queens for the entirety of this stunningly complex yet simple play.  The shift comes, alarmingly, with all the tension expected. In a split second, while waiting for those 9-1-1 rescuers to arrive, we are lifted up and away from the perfectly carved-out home of Mary Jane, where she sleeps on the pull-out couch so the bedroom could become a make-shift hospital room for Alex. With sharpness and precision, Mary Jane swings into the next chapter of Alex and Mary Jane’s battle. The perfectly crafted symbol of home care hanging dangerously above only emphasizes the dramatic turn and the hope that still lives strong. The view takes us down a similarly centered but slightly different anxiety-fueled road; one that is heightened by the sterility of the space and light. Dreading the end but bracing ourselves for the journey ahead, we join Mary Jane, as she searches within herself and others for some understanding and structure, be it through religion, faith, or just medical understanding. Sitting with her is the same cast of stellar actors, although creating entirely new characters, thanks to some subtle fine work by costume designer Brenda Abbandandolo (Vineyard’s Scene Partners), all brilliantly constructed to help make her see the future with open eyes and a clearer centered mind. 

It’s a beautifully crafted construction of a mother coping with the daily onslaught that sickness and disease of one’s own child can bring. It is clear that the playwright understands this topic from a deep emotional and raw place, and parlays that anguish into a feeling that echoes throughout the theatre, raising the stakes as home life simply vanishes beyond our and her sightlines. We give our heart over to Mary Jane, and to the wonderfully exacting McAdams, completely without question. The ending is complex and surprising, yet thoroughly authentic. And we embrace a shared sense of clarity that comes from the unclear connection to peace and understanding. To breathe in the light at the end of that long tunnel feels like pain, although it is also relief and some sort of peace.