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This Is Our Youth


Kieran Culkin and Michael Cera

                                                         by Joel Benjamin

I have to admit experiencing a certain dread at the prospect of seeing the revival of This Is Our Youth, Kenneth Lonergan’s 1996 work about “alienated” young people.  I remembered the original as a dark, ugly and distressing, the three original actors exuding a ferocity that made them unappealing, however skillfully they were portrayed.  The current Broadway revival at the Cort Theatre, as directed by Anna D. Shapiro, is a totally different take on the play.  She has found whatever light and subtlety   there is in the writing.   The three young people come across as confused, intelligent, though, it has to be said, still incredibly irritating.  Not nice, but certainly not the monsters I remembered and people whose self-imposed problems and navel gazing are worth observing.

The play takes place in 1982 in the Upper West Side studio apartment of Dennis Ziegler whose television viewing is interrupted by his nervous punching bag of a friend Warren Straub.  Warren has just run away from his father, the “lingerie king,” having stolen fifteen thousand dollars.  He is also carrying a large suitcase full of his toy collection.   What to do with the stolen loot and the toys?  They muse nervously about having a great night out, spending it on drugs or simply returning the cash with an apology.  They settle on a compromise that, in theory—a faulty theory it turns out—will solve all their problems:  buy some cocaine, use some, sell the rest and come away with a profit.  How this plan goes awry, and the consequences of its failure, fill up the rest of the two-plus hours of the play. 


Tavi Gevinson                                         Images by Brigitte Lacombe

Complicating matters is Warren’s crush on teenaged fashion student, Jessica Goldman.  He uses way too much of the purloined cash to fulfill his fantasy of a night at the Plaza Hotel with her, again leading to angst and youthful recriminations.  Jessica is by far the most together of the trio, speaking her mind, airing her doubts and clearly the one who will better survive upper middle class anxiety, although Dennis and Warren are not, by far, lost causes.

The joy of Lonergan’s writing and this production, in particular, is watching these three lost kids interacting, listening to how they insult each other—particularly Dennis’ emotional low-blows at Warren—and realizing that they are playacting their own lives and are suffering from self-imposed alienation, even as they go on and on about their parents’ material successes.  Despite being nasty to each other, they are smart and still have remnants of a social conscience.

Kieran Culkin inhabits the seemingly self-confident Dennis, his frailty barely hidden.  He clearly works at his slick macho façade and cannot hide his innate intelligence.  Michael Cera’s Warren is all gangly fragility, always on the verge of coming apart and needing Dennis’ constant needling to fire himself up.  He speaks in a high-pitched, staccato manner summarizing Warren’s brittleness.  Lovely Tavi Gevinson makes it clear why Warren lusts after her.  She is fragile in appearance but strong in speech and demeanor, standing up for her feelings in a way that displays a maturity beyond her years.  All three actors were simply terrific.

Todd Rosenthal’s scenic design includes many witty details, including TV cable wire running up and down the visible building walls, period electronics—including a turntable!—and the kind of posters any middle class self appointed dropout would have on his wall.  Ann Roth’s costumes clearly define the characters and the period without looking like costumes and Brian MacDevitt’s lighting makes the most of the dreary studio apartment.

One has to wonder how different this play would be if these characters were equipped all the modern electronic devices that bog down young adults today.  The richness of Lonergan’s exploration of character and emotion would not exist if they spent their time tweeting each other.  How refreshing it is to see real people communicating in real time.

This Is Our Youth – through January 4, 2015
Cort Theatre
138 West 48th St. between 6th & 7th Aves.
New York, NY
Tickets: www.telecharge.com or 212-239-6200

Running time: 2 hours 15 minutes with one intermission