A review of Playwrights Horizons’ Degenerates
By Antonio
In Degenerates, at Off-Broadway’s Playwrights Horizons, I was confronted by questions outside my comfort zone. How much empathy can we extend to someone consumed by loneliness? How do we help someone find their way out of despair? Is genuine connection still possible when hatred has taken hold? As I waited for the play to begin, I read Else Went’s “Playwright’s Perspective” in the program. I thought it might make me less triggered by the world of incels (involuntary celibates), but absolutely nothing could have prepared me for the theatrical exploration I was about to witness. Else quoted Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s words in the wake of the 2019 back-to-back shootings in El Paso and Dayton. AOC’s call to action rocked me and my privileged, liberal, bleeding-heart sense of self. “We need to go deep because it’s not just those that succumbed to hate that have to change. We need to love bigger to bring them back.”
I looked up at the stage, divided into two rooms. One is an explosion of pink, with manga imagery, posters and plushies filling the space. The other is a grey interior with one Smiths poster, a microwave, dirty laundry, and of course, the computer screen as the one source of light and connection. Mikiko Suzuki MacAdams‘s striking set is jarring and unsettling, with a giant chasm separating the two worlds. One side of the stage suggested someone longing to escape this world and live in the pleasures of fantasy, while the other suggested someone tethered to reality, denying themselves even the simplest desire. When the two worlds come together, it is explosive.
Went’s play begins in darkness, creating a sense of searching as my eyes struggle to adjust. I am listening to a suicidal man calling into a hotline and am immediately pierced by the sounds of deep loneliness mixed with paranoia and desperation. Tyler Nowell Felix (Stage 42’s Dungeons & Dragons:..) is beautifully moving as Kemp, which begins my inner conflict. Olivia Rose Barresi (The Public’s Initiative) is the epitome of calm under pressure as the counselor on the other end of the line. Her empathy is vast, and I believe she cares with every word. As my eyes adjust, I see a movement on stage for a brief second. I know it is Kemp pacing in the chasm between the sets. How can my heart not feel for this human being, who has no love in his life, no care, no comfort? But the way in which his pain turns to rage crossed the wires in my brain, and now I was scared of how this loneliness had been radicalized into hate. I felt his self-hatred had reached a point where the mind could no longer hold it, and it had to be directed out to the world.
We are then transported to the world of Target, emotionally orchestrated by Christopher Dylan White (59E59’s The Bridge Play) and Miller, portrayed with incredible psychological intensity by Zachary Desmond (59E59’s Hooded, or,.. ). They are in an online chat, and we find out Kemp has faced his pain for at least one more day. The effect of Else’s words coming out of Miller’s mouth was deeply upsetting. The ease and flow of hatred towards women made my mind want to forget the words as soon as they were spoken. But then, after Kemp has left the chat, we find that Target, an agoraphobic, turns on his camera and asks if Miller would like to watch him prepare for work. Miller is completely transformed and eager to participate in this intimacy with Target. Desmond completely transforms Miller into a fresh-faced teenager who longs for this connection. White explored Target’s desperation for love and affection with such tenderness and grace. This encounter completely shifted my perception and short-circuited my brain. My first wave of anger had turned to sadness. I was challenged to hold these human beings together in my heart.
And then the two worlds merged together for Miller and Target’s first date IRL. Desmond has now transformed Miller from a teenager into a little boy, nervous and excited. White finds the boldness in Target’s dreams and desire. The two actors literally let go of their last inhibitions, and for one brief moment, I thought love could solve all this world’s problems. In this climactic moment of connection, Jiyoun Chang’s lighting brightened the chasm, revealing the actors in the space where their two worlds collided. These wonderful actors left me heartbroken and unsettled.
Else has written a play with no easy answers. She bravely creates a world where hope cannot destroy hate, yet a small piece of humanity remains. As directed by Emma Rose Went (Public/Mobile Unit’s As You Like It), the play has a frightening precision and deftly toys with what should be hidden and what should be revealed. I felt like I could not breathe at times. The tension in the theater was so palpable. I am still challenged to find a way to reconcile my feelings towards Miller. Was love really his ultimate desire? When love was there in front of him, what prevented him from accepting it? Leaving Playwrights Horizons’ Degenerates, I found myself still wrestling with Miller: Was he a man who rejected love? Or was the hatred in his heart his one true love?
