Theatre in Review: Domesticated (Lincoln Center Theatre/Mitzi E. Newhouse Theatre)

	Laurie Metcalf. Photo: Joan Marcus

One thing you can say about Bruce Norris: He doesn't mince words. I realize that this is hardly news to anyone who has seen works such as The Pain and the Itch and Clybourne Park, but even so, seeing the scalding new comedy Domesticated, one is taken (or perhaps taken aback) once again at the way his characters are so willing to unburden themselves of their cankerous observations. In his hands, everyday discourse is an extreme sport.

Domesticated begins with the all-too-familiar sight of a political sex scandal. Bill, a successful gynecologist turned government officeholder (the job is unspecified, but it sounds like Secretary of Health), appears at a press conference, accompanied by his stone-faced wife, Judy, to announce his resignation following an admission of illicit sexual activity. As is usually the case at such events, the details are left unmentioned, but when we learn them, they are the stuff of black comedy. In an encounter with a prostitute, a slight struggle over who should handle the paddle (Bill is into scenarios involving schoolgirls and punishment) leads to an accident in which the young lady hits her head and falls into a coma. Adding to the scandal, the girl's mother has taken to the talk-show circuit, tearing up for the cameras in expert fashion.

Meanwhile, Bill and Judy are at home, living in a state of siege with their two daughters. Comfort is not on tap; Judy announces that she is now in "the drinking stage," which is to be followed by ones even more grueling. His daughters have nothing to offer: While Bill silently weeps at the dinner table, Casey, the elder of the two, engages in a loud, nonstop monologue about the how the idiot girls at her school refuse to understand the seriousness of female genital mutilation in Africa. Cassidy sits silently, staring at the table, then runs out of the room.

Things get worse when Judy learns that, rather than being a one-off, the incident in question is part of a much wider reign of error, and that, in Eliot Spitzer fashion, Bill has spent thousands of dollars on paid companions. Judy, whom we have seen struggling through marriage counseling sessions, finally lowers the boom; referring to Bill's penis, she says, "I don't care if you've scrubbed it with Clorox and a wire brush," as far as she is concerned, it is coming nowhere near her.

Domesticated is constructed in she-said/he-said fashion. Bill doesn't speak until the very end of Act I; until then, the ladies have their furious say. In addition to Judy, they include the terrifying Casey; Bobbie, Bill's hardball-playing attorney and Judy's best friend; Jackie, the victim's mother, who swears that she didn't know her daughter was a drug-addicted whore; and Bill's mother, who says that men aren't built for monogamy, an opinion that cuts no ice with Judy and Casey. Act I also follows Judy's attempts at redemption by publishing a memoir and starting a foundation for people with head injuries, and the family's attempts at retrenchment as Bill and Judy's funds dry up; among other things, the summer house and Casey's dreams of a top-flight college are sacrificed.

Act II presents Bill's side of the story as his career slides further into unsalvageable territory. Baring his soul in a seedy bar, he notes that, when he met Judy in college, she was having an affair with a married professor -- the head of the department of ethical studies, no less -- and then launches into a defense of promiscuity as man's natural state. The speech is so offensive that it gets him beat up, and things only get worse from there. Among other things, he is stunned to discover that no woman who recognizes him wants to submit to a pelvic exam. His way of dealing with one recalcitrant patient gets him thrown out of the clinic where he is trying to reestablish his practice.

Domesticated got a less-rapturous response than Clybourne Park, Norris' multiple-prize-winning last work, and it is true that the new play has nowhere the breadth and undercurrent of real feeling that made its predecessor so powerful. But there's plenty to be said for the author's take-no-prisoners attitude as he depicts the modern drama of sin and repentance as acted out in the public sphere. In some ways, this tale of a paterfamilias who thinks he can bounce back and reclaim his life following a grievous error recalls The Unavoidable Disappearance of Tom Durnin, seen earlier this season. (This is especially true of a scene in which Bill takes Casey and Cassidy out to a Serendipity-style sweet shop, an outing that ends in disaster.) But Norris' talent for unbridled attacks and verbal mayhem give Domesticated a verve all its own.

It certainly helps that the director is Anna D. Shapiro, who knows a thing or two about fractious families, having staged August: Osage County. Jeff Goldblum is excellent as Bill, whether he is silently absorbing titanic amounts of abuse, trying to triangulate his crimes into something other people will find acceptable, or letting go of a lifetime's worth of resentments. From his public abdication to his last sad, lonely moment, on a family trip to check out a college for Cassidy, he still thinks he can talk his way out of his troubles, instead digging himself in more deeply each time. As there is no American actress more gifted at tirades than Laurie Metcalf, she proves to be the ideal Judy, whether she is quietly describing the revulsion she feels for Bill's body, registering horror at how close to home his activities have hit, or executing a final act of petty revenge. There are also fine contributions from Vanessa Aspillaga as both the housekeeper Bill and Judy can no longer afford and the high school principal who expels Cassidy for a scandal of her own; Mia Barron as Bobbie, whose killer demeanor masks a troubled marriage to an alcoholic; Lizbeth MacKay, as Jackie, the prostitute's mother, who takes to the talk-show circuit like a star; Mary Beth Peil as, among others, a gnomic marriage counselor and Bill's skeptical colleague; and Karen Pittman as an Oprah Winfrey-style interviewer. Emily Meade makes an impressive debut as Casey, who clearly has inherited her mother's skills at verbal flogging, and Robin De Jesus makes a show-stopping appearance as a drag queen who presents the woman's point of view, armed with a sharp object.

Todd Rosenthal's set puts the audience around a small circular stage, creating an arena of conflict; over the stage are five video screens that show the results of Cassidy's school project, in which she describes the many animals who mate with little or no regard for the male of the species. James F. Ingalls' lighting conjures a variety of looks, ranging from soft TV-studio lighting to the saturated shadows of a bar late at night. Jennifer von Mayrhauser's costumes fit each character; they are especially helpful for performers like Peil and Aspillaga, who play multiple roles. John Gromada's sound is typically fine.

There's nothing redemptive about Domesticated; Norris' view is of a social landscape so riddled with hypocrisy that truthful communication is next to impossible. But there is plenty of honest pleasure in hearing his characters cut through the social lies with such gusto. And can anyone doubt he has much to say about the way we live now?--David Barbour