Patti LuPone, Mia Farrow (Photo by Julieta Cervantes)

The Roommate

By David Schultz

It's beyond unusual to start a show with the stars taking a bow. But Mia Farrow and Patti LuPone wield such theatrical clout that, as they walk onstage in The Roommate at the Booth Theatre, winding through designer Bob Crowley's suggestive, minimalist stage, they get a round of applause, then walk off. And then the play starts. This slick move gives the audience what they came for - LuPone and Farrow -- without applause overwhelming opening lines.

Starpower pulls the audience through The Roommate, in spite of its just not being very good. Jen Silverman's script is somehow overwritten and underwritten at the same time, producing some laughs and some groans, directed with a respectful, safe hand by Jack O'Brien. In this two-hander, Sharon, who lives in Iowa, has rented a room to Robyn, a refugee from the Bronx. The vegan, lesbian Robyn arrives with tons of boxes, which somehow never come off the porch, and somewhat suspect plants (spoiler: they're weed), and oat milk. If costume is character, Robin's black leather and leggings telegraph sophistication - sort of - and Sharon's baggy flannel shirts signal mouseburger (costumes also by Bob Crowley).

The inherent pleasure of seeing The Roommate stems from the delectable chemistry of Farrow and LuPone as Sharon and Robyn. It's obvious that the two actresses have known each other for quite some time. They have a great rapport, which works so well within the framework of the show. But the script is a little hackneyed and un-original. No matter how the author tries, the sophisticated-babe-vs-the-rube is a weary trope that rings false, and the out of nowhere kiss seems aimed to shock, but in 2024, nobody in the audience raises an eyebrow.

Patti LuPone, Mia Farrow (Photo by Julieta Cervantes)

Both women, the black-clad babe from the Bronx and the flaky Midwesterner in pigtails, seek to break free of the emotional constraints of their lives. Each sees in the other a way out, a way to experience something new and potentially dangerous. The fact that they both have children that are remote and distant, only voices on the other end of the (landline) phone, is a subtle undercurrent throughout the play. It's kind of like Sharon and Robyn are two post-post-modern Golden Girls, with a little weed, a smidgen of financial exploitation, and just a rumor of grand theft auto thrown in.

The moment when Sharon digs through a box of Robyn's belongings seems to be the ultimate catalyst for change. Sharon unearths a transference for her persona; she literally slips into Robyn's life as she tentatively slips into Robyn's full length black leather coat. This plot device propels the story forward, but it doesn't seem genuine.

Patti LuPone, Mia Farrow (Photo by Julieta Cervantes)

Directing with sitcom pacing, Jack O'Brien has the perfect duo to play with. The obvious affection and friendship that these two seasoned actors have is on full display. This overcompensates for what is in effect a story that seems stilted and flat. Lighting design by Natasha Katz is unobtrusive, with occasional blackouts that indicate changes of time and day. Robert Pickens and Katie Gell designed spot-on hair and wigs.

The main reason to attend the play is to observe these two pros going through their paces. If only playwright Jen Silverman had something juicy and original for them to say.

The Roommate

At The Booth Theatre

222 West 45^th Street

Through December 15