I had been wary of BCTR. Like Mr. Carraway, I have a policy of never going to any event unless I am specifically invited/listed. The name Brooklyn Center for Theatre Research always made me smile because it sounds like the STEM branch of a state school. I had been calling it The Brooklyn Center for Theatre Technology, at first as a mistake and then as a joke that only I really found funny. I had no real reason to make fun of this place besides a very mild distaste for theatre kids, which I had been in high school. Theatre kids were usually type A, homeschooled, or annoying—many times all three. As someone who has spent countless nights at Sovereign House and is among the D**** Square milieu, it sort of felt like BCTR was a rival group of artists from across town. They lived across the river and I had never met them.
Chloe Pingeon invited me to do a review of The Jag, a new play by some people I had never heard of. I don’t really go to plays often, but now I do, I guess. I am honestly a sucker for plays. Compared to many readings I have gone to, the plays are much more, well, prepared and written. Plays also start on time.
I took the L from Bedford, then took an electric CitiBike to Greenpoint. I used to live in Greenpoint for a summer in 2019 with an eccentric German woman who lied a lot. She sometimes had me take care of her four-year-old son who didn’t know any English and not much German. She drank Hennessy and didn’t believe in air conditioning. I did enjoy her as a character but not as a roommate/landlord. I was relieved that Greenpoint hadn’t changed much since then—maybe it had more people. But all the classic architecture and vibe was similar. The hipster dream of 2012 was still alive and well here, while Williamsburg had turned into another yupped-up distortion of the West Village. The Long Island City skyline was new; six or so big skyscrapers now loomed over Greenpoint Avenue. Who those are for, I don’t know. Chloe Pingeon texts me at 7:35 asking if I'm still coming. I veer off memory lane and make my way to BCTR.
BCTR did sort of trick me with its obtusely professional name. BCTR is less of a “Center” and more of an upstairs apartment in an old building on the outskirts of Greenpoint. It is very charming and has lots of “familial” touches, like a Polaroid collection of “Center” (as they call it) regulars. The bar was stocked from a fridge containing Miller High Life for the boys and White Claws for the girls. They had a decent selection of liquor at the small but organized bar. There is only one bathroom.
The venue reminded me of a famous punk venue on Myrtle/Broadway called The Glove, which has since shut down.
Immediately, I am greeted by Sophia and ushered inside. The Brooklyn Center for Theatre Technology is hot and has great wooden floors. At the bar, Gasda is tending. “What’s the drink of the night?” “Fernet.” I had heard of the BCTR predilection for Fernet and accepted the offer, and Gasda poured me a generous serving. I had never met Gasda before and honestly had never heard a good thing about him besides that he was an avid writer and “workaholic.” Gasda then turned to another man and asked for a cigarette.
“I don’t have many left.”
“Is it the last pack in the world?”
snapped Gasda.
This outburst endeared me to Gasda, who—due to his relative literary success—I had assumed had the smarmy, snotty affect that I have picked up from many other “successful” male writers. After that, I sit down to watch the play next to Chloe and her father, who is visiting.
Although I had pitched The Jag as a star-studded play, with the crown jewel being Chloë Sevigny herself, I knew that the pitch to Office would rely heavily on the visuals that could be accrued for the article. Office is a fashion magazine, and all the pieces that I had written for them either included a real star—“Luka Sabbat Breaks the #1 Rule of 4chan” was my first piece with them—or pitches that included creative directors, professional photographers, and stylists. Sadly, this play review was not picked up by Office, maybe because it wasn’t newsworthy, or maybe they weren’t impressed with the visuals (Office loves flash). Or maybe it was just Paris Fashion Week and they had bigger fish to fry. Anyway, I am publishing this “party report/play review” in my own press.
The play is set in yuppie upstate New York. We open onto a cabin set where Heather (Chloë Sevigny) is phoning in a speech, introducing the play. Tyler, a hapless, excuse-hungry screenwriter without a screenplay, is staying in a cabin upstate to escape the distractions of Bushwick. The play takes place in 2011, so this is still an acceptably cool place to live. He is friends with Sevigny and is staying in her place while she is away. He can finally write his masterpiece. But there is a catch: Brian, a sort of deeply tan, NPR übermensch, won’t let him focus—immediately degrading his new guest and insisting on staining the wood floor in the room that Tyler is staying in. The two have good chemistry, but at times I did feel like these two were the same person talking to themselves through these archetypes. Brian is cutting and emasculating Tyler through his superior woodworking skills and the wealth he got from “hard work” as some sort of finance person.
Tyler is like if Woody Allen was a moron. He doesn’t have good ideas and steps on his own feet at every opportunity. He is too caught up in his paranoid delusions about Brian undermining his genius, and honestly, I got as annoyed with the Tyler character as Brian.
During the play, I had been taking notes on my phone, which I thought was the right thing to do at the time, but this was not how it was perceived by Brian the NPR übermensch, who sort of attempted to seize my phone even as I turned it to him showing him my notes. I guess this is not acceptable behavior at a play. I don’t go to plays and was doing this “PR” pro bono as a favor. Anyway, this is sort of in character for this overcompensating Gen X former New Yorker.
The two argue about rap and Tyler’s use of the word “bitches,” which Brian finds misogynistic. This spirals into an argument about Black culture, which makes Brian seem racist—something deeply frowned upon in the Hudson Valley. Cori-Elizabeth (played by Giovanna Drummond )was the most well-rounded character: She is Tyler’s old flame who he had a brief affair with during his last relationship. Cori-Elizabeth is in nursing school and has given up on her NYC dreams—whatever those were. She is self-conscious of this fact but has come to accept her fate as a nurse in the Hudson Valley. For some reason, she believes in Tyler’s “genius” and talks him up to Brian, who is more concerned with the practical matter of financing Tyler’s unwritten movie.
Brian is an interesting character because he is also a loser. He’s rich, has a Jaguar, is an outdoorsman, works harder than Tyler, but he doesn’t really have anything else going on in his life—so when Tyler comes, his only real interest becomes nitpicking and schooling our dull-witted Woody Allen. It is also revealed that Brian has a crush on his absent roommate.
Tyler doesn’t stand for anything and changes his allegiances drastically by whoever is around. When he is alone, he can’t stand himself and tears his hair out, creating a huge mess. The story hinges on two large symbols, neither of which is The Jag (Jaguar).
The shoddy rocking chair that Tyler has made is a symbol for the playwright’s laziness and incompetence, which culminates in his love interest trusting this device—only to break it. Brian fixes up Tyler’s mess because he’s the adult roommate that is competent. The second symbol is the wishbone, which honestly confused me. Tyler changes what he wishes for based on who is with him, which showcases his flakiness even in the face of supernatural objects.
I did enjoy the play and the acting was great. Their set design was creative and engaging, and all the actors played off each other with a hot chemistry. The play itself seemed front-loaded before intermission and then opened up the second act with a monologue, which seemed odd to me. The second act seemed to be leading to an obvious conflict in this male-male-female triangle, but it was shied away from. After intermission, the play passed quickly and ended abruptly. Nothing was really resolved, which maybe is just how all plays end.
After the play, I got more Fernet and talked to the playwright.
“I spent the whole play trying to figure out which character was Jewish.”
Robin Schavoir didn’t seem to enjoy this question and seemed confused. I moved the conversation forward quickly and told him I liked it. Although I did leave the show asking “Why was it called The Jag?”
Chloë Sevigny had not managed to make it out to 251 Huron Street this evening, but she had posted about it on Instagram. The sunset over Midtown was a deep purple and an assembly of champagne was popped in succession. I apologized to Mickey Solis (Brian) about my avid note-taking, but at this point he was with his friends and didn’t seem to care. Although later it was brought up to me as an obvious theatre faux pas. I found Giles Geary and told him that his character reminded me of a retarded Woody Allen. He didn’t seem to like this observation and gave the canned response, “If that’s your interpretation of the character…”
It's hot on the roof. Gasda pours me more Fernet while we chat with Chloe (Pingeon) and her father as the sun fades out. Then Chloe’s father drives me back to the L train.
Catch the Jag at BCTR.
Saturday, June 28 2:00pm
Sunday, June 29 2:00pm
Friday, July 4 7:30pm
Saturday, July 5 7:30pm
Sunday, July 6 7:30pm *CLOSING*
I enjoyed reading this review!