The Off-Broadway Theatre Review: Someone Spectacular

By Ross

The dynamics of the group start long before the lights in the theatre dim, even before we are all seated in the small theatrical space of the Pershing Square Signature Center for Someone Spectacular, the new, very personal, and affecting play by Doménica Feraud (Rinse, Repeat). The characters, one by one, take their seats, in a way that feels habitual, staying quiet, and shhhing those who do not. They stretch, fan themselves, fiddle with their clothes, pour themselves coffee, and drum out a beat to an unheard song. That is until the anxious energy interjects, and even that anxiety spin is silenced for the sake of the space.

But something is amiss in the room, and we can feel it trickle in. The someone who usually starts the therapeutic ball rolling has failed to arrive on time. It’s not like her, they say finally to one another when the silent wait seems too tense to continue. Their grief counselor, Beth, seems to be a no-show at their weekly meeting, and the triggering of trauma is palpable. To stay or to go, that is the proverbial question that needs debating and voted on, and if they decide to stay, how will they begin this complicated exploration into loss, grief, and connection. Who will lead them through?

After a few ridiculously captivating and disturbing rounds of a game called “fuck, marry, kill“, the six bereaved attendees have to figure out a way to go on unsupervised. Oddly enough, on a side note, the “fuck” is what offends and feels violent to these attendees, not the “kill“, which is a fascinating and telling construct to take in and unpack. Ultimately though, not everyone is in agreement in the suggestion to wait for someone maybe spectacular, maybe not, to guide them through their complex emotional journey. Some want to wait, feeling a certain level of panic and paranoia if they move forward without someone trained to hold them tight. Others want to dive into the pain of their Someone Spectacular loss. “This is what I wait seven days for!” one of the unsupervised says, displaying a level of deep desperation that is very relatable. And we can see why. The combative, comparative formulations of grief, anger, and betrayal live loud and outside themselves, and the fire that is formed is truly hypnotizing, even with the tense ugliness that comes spinning out and almost attacks.

The cast is uniformly good, each finding moments, for the most part, to unpack the hidden layers that live inside themselves. “Life is random“, “illogical“, “out of control,” we are told, but as these sharpened souls start to share and engage, we can’t help but lean in and wonder; wonder about what happened to Beth. Did she die, they ask? Wouldn’t that be a kill worth unpacking? More importantly, how will these pained people find their way through without destroying those around them? Will they discover something to hold onto as grief and rage are thrown around the space designed impeccably by dots (Broadway’s An Enemy of the People), with perfect costuming by Siena Zoë Allen (Out of the Box’s The Last 5 Years), sharp solid lighting by Oona Curley (NYTW’s runboyrun & In Old Age), and a clear-minded sound design by Mikaal Sulaiman (Broadway’s Doubt)?

The 90-minute play ticks by, held together by Fernaud’s tightly wound engagement, until the formula spins itself into a few odd moments that don’t seem to fit inside the room and the remedy. Although not exactly groundbreaking in its unveiling, Someone Spectacular finds enough in the clever characters performed with clarity by a cast of pros: namely Gamze Ceylan (Guthrie’s Noura) as Evelyn, Alison Cimmet (Broadway’s Amélie) as Nelle, Delia Cunningham (Broadway’s A View from the Bridge) as Jude, Ana Cruz Kayne (“Little Women“) as Lily, Shakur Tolliver (MCC’s soft) as Julian, and Damian Young (“Birdman“) as Thom. They each are given a form to embody and to enlist in their development. And most connect strongly with all of us who remain tied to their loss and discomfort.

As directed with a free-flowing jolt of honest humor and hurt by Tatiana Pandiani (DTC’s Our Town), the play feels deeply personal in its unpacking, albeit somehow unfinished, or cut short. With slivers of the iconic Stephen Sondheim woven into the dialogue delivered by the most maternal of the group, the engaging Evelyn (Ceylan), like many in the room, has entered into the space with a compelling secret. She, and everyone else present, must find their way into a place of compassionate connection so they can release these trapped emotions into the room. “People leave you halfway through the wood a lot more often than you think,” says the very angry Lily, (Kayne), who is mourning not only her mom but the life she was creating because of her.

“No one is alone. Believe me. Truly,” (thanks to Sondheim) but for most of those souls who entered the space that morning, this is a concept that doesn’t feel true, authentic, or helpful. It just takes them a while to somewhat understand. Even when the piece gets super specific with one person’s personal grief, in a way that feels more troubling than enlightening, the ideal inside Someone Spectacular is that they can be there for one another. Even if the troubles are impossible to wipe away, sharing is the way forward, not away from the pain, but towards a bearable connection to it. Grief is like that, I have told many in my daytime practice as a psychotherapist. It’s horrific and unyielding, but it somehow creates a beautiful spectacular space where love and care can flourish and find meaning. It never fully goes away, that pain of missing and wanting, nor would we want it to, completely. Many of the friends and family that I have lost in my lifetime floated up into the forefront of my mind during this capsule of a play, and I happily embraced the sadness and love that is attached to them. So even in the messiness that floats into this authentic formula, built with frankness, humor, and ferocious honesty, something almost spectacular lives inside Someone Spectacular, if it only is given some time to expand. And we are moved to remember and feel the grief that lives inside most of us for a lost one that never fully leaves us. Thankfully. Sadly. And happily.