The cast of Shit.Meet.Fan. (Photo: Julieta Cervantes)

Shit. Meet. Fan.

By David Schultz

Based on a 2016 Italian film, "Perfect Strangers," this slick, shallow production attempts to update the tale from the film. In fits and starts, it has its perverse amusements, but in the long run it runs out of steam well before the final curtain. Written and directed by Robert O' Hara (Slave Play, Bootycandy), this overly obvious play is a lower drawer effort from this talented playwright. His other original works had depth and dealt with serious issues that hit a nerve with audiences and critics alike. The topics within this play seem both dated and not revelatory.

The set, designed by Clint Ramos, is a spot-on replication of a tony townhouse in Dumbo, Brooklyn. It could be a modern visual take on a Noel Coward play. The setting is inviting and spacious, giving one the thought of a delightful romantic comedy. Instead, we get a rather wan variation of the vicious Albee play Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? in triplicate. Sans the depth and razor-sharp writing from the master.

The "gotcha" pull of this Off-Broadway production is its starry cast and its consistently vulgar dialogue. Rodger (Neil Patrick Harris) and Eve (Jane Krakowski) are about to host a party with friends and to watch an eclipse on their balcony. The visitors arrive with great anticipation for the event. First to arrive are Claire (Debra Messing) an excessive drinker, along with her not-too-bright lawyer hubby Brett (Garret Dillahunt). Also arriving in quick succession are Frank (Michael Oberholtzer) and his new arm-candy Asian wife, Hannah (Constance Wu). Rounding out the group is Logan (Tramell Tillman), the sole African American in the group who shows up without his current girlfriend.

Neil Patrick Harris, Jane Krakowski (Photo: Julieta Cervantes)

The overly privileged white partygoers are skewered as the play barrels along. The rom-com dialogue and pacing are peppered with loads of F-Bombs to keep it modern and sharp (read: lazy and insipid). Its an easy way to get a laugh but subtle it ain't.

The fulcrum of the evening is a party game devised by Eve to jump start the fun. Basically, the idea is for everyone in the group to put their cell phones face up on the coffee table, and for one hour to answer all calls, texts, messages out loud all in front of the group. This experiment is devised to prove their undying love and commitment to their wives and husbands.

Initially the group pooh-poohs the idea, then one by one they consent to this dangerous game. Need I say that the phones indeed start ringing with all manner of embarrassing secrets revealed. This rather contrived situation does have some wicked moments as the steamroller revelations ramp up ,with everyone getting their comeuppance, their proverbial pants dropped and butts kicked. But the entire storyline stretches credulity and this one act play drags on interminably.

The cast seems to be having a blast and the cartoonlike pacing by the playwright/director gives the evening its only energy. But in retrospect the sense of the entire endeavor rings hollow. The last ten minutes of the work attempt to posit to the audience that what they have witnessed is suspect from the get-go, a sort of cop-out to the viewers who have spent the previous 90 minutes writhing in their seats.

Shit. Meet. Fan.

At The Robert W. Wilson MCC Theater Space/ Newman Mills Theater, 511 West 52^nd Street

Through December 15^th.

Tickets: https://mcctheater.org/tix/shit-meet-fan-extension/#book