The Humans at Your Table

Stephen Karam's The Humans
San Jose Stage Company
November 23, 2019

The scariest thing about the Blake family is that they are likely not all that different than your family or mine. As they gather around the Thanksgiving table, you'll find the same role-players you might see at your own gathering. The one who wants everyone to behave themselves for once and keep it light. The one who wants to talk about everything and keep it heavy. The outsider who's anxious about what kind of family he's joining. The one who's desperately hiding the fact that her life is falling apart.

Brigid (Madeline Rouverol), Erik (Tim Kniffin) and Aimee (Lyndsy Kail).
Photo by Dave Lepori.

Stephen Karam's play is a cyclone of intentions and secrets, dropping hints and fears as its characters damage each other in the very act of trying to help each other. Under director Tony Kelly, the Stage's cast weaves a performance so naturalistic you feel like you could sit right down, grab a turkey leg and join in.

Brigid Blake (Madeline Rouverol) is hosting her family at her new digs, a Manhattan Chinatown apartment that she's sharing with her boyfriend Richard Saad (George Psarras). The set, by Giulio Perrone, is a marvelous two-story concoction that allows for simultaneous dialogues and actions. A memorable example is when daughter Aimee (Lyndsy Kail) takes her worsening colitis upstairs for yet another bathroom visit and follows with a painfully awkward phone conversation with her ex-girlfriend, who has already moved on.

I also enjoyed Tim Kniffin's performance as the father, Erik Blake. There are so many anxieties simmering beneath that shock of gray hair that poor Erik can barely function, his few moments of clarity ranging from heartfelt affection to creepy nightmare anxieties. He confides about the latter with Richard, a psychology student who finds his own creepy dreams terrifically entertaining.

Aimee (Lyndsy Kail) and Deirdre (Marie Shell).
Photo by Dave Lepori.

There's a similar complexity in Marie Shell's performance as the mother, Deirdre Blake. Her work with Bhutan refugees (rudely derided by her daughters) indicates a heart full of good intentions, but her constant prodding of her family's moral weaknesses (Brigid's "shacking up," her clan's general godlessness) provide a running irritation. (Naturally, the audience laughs at these gibes, but they don't have to live with her, am I right?) It's Deirdre who sets the trigger, asking her husband if he's going to tell them before dinner or after, and effectively activating the suspense.

Coincidentally, I recently re-watched Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, and the bickering here provides an interesting comparison. Whereas Taylor and Burton (Martha and George) operated at a near-psychotic level, the Blakes come up with regular moments of warmth (a lovely letter written by grandmother Momo - Jessica Powell - before she lost her mind to dementia) and light-hearted quirks (a family ritual of following each declaration of thanks by whacking a peppermint pig). In other words, the Blakes may be having a bad Thanksgiving, but the fraying threads are not so much worse than the ones in your family or mine. And that's scary enough.

Through December 15 at The Stage, 490 S. First Street, San Jose. 408/283-7142, www.thestage.org.

Michael J. Vaughn is the author of 22 novels. His latest, A Painting Called Sylvia, was inspired by his recent success as a visual artist, and is available in both paperback and ebook forms at amazon.com.