Theatre in Review: Franklinland (Ensemble Studio Theatre)

	Noah Keyishian, Thomas Jay Ryan. Photo: Jeremy Daniel

Musical theatre fans know from 1776 that Benjamin Franklin was estranged from his son William, a British loyalist and Royal Governor of New Jersey. Hardcore musical theatre fans know from Ben Franklin in Paris that Ben (as this play calls him) doted on his grandson William Temple Franklin, hiring the youth as his secretary. These are probably the only facts you need when seeing Franklinland, a flippant, historical-ish cameo of eighteenth-century parent-child dynamics. It's a revisionist comedy-drama: Playwright Lloyd Suh is out to portray old Ben as an abusive Founding Father, a narcissist more interested in polishing his reputation than raising a son. "After all," he says more than once, practically purring with self-satisfaction, "I'm Benjamin Franklin!"

You may be less pleased with the great man, who, despite his brilliance and his decisive role in history, is seen here as a self-regarding blowhard. Eyeballing William, Ben urges him not to be a "drongo: A tenderfoot, unversed, improperly educated and ignorant. Which I suppose is what you are, but you don't have to go around flaunting it." He dismisses William's mother as "a random prostitute," interferes in the young man's love life, and denigrates his achievements. He does give extensive advice about masturbation, however, advising the young virgin to fornicate with any available woman, and even a man or two, if only for the sake of it. But when Temple is born, he commandeers the infant, separating him from his father.

Their fraught relationship is weighed down with half-hearted jokes, often expressed in a 2024 vernacular (Locutions include "nebbish dweebs" and "kissing ass;" looking ahead, Ben says "My death will be epic!") Many exchanges have a whiff of vaudeville. William notes that skeptics regard electricity as a magic trick, like sawing a woman in half, Ben replies, "Have you ever sawed a woman in half? Don't knock it til you've tried it." Later, when Ben is courting treason, he announces he is "revolting." "You're revolting," William replies implying quite another meaning. William's political appointment triggers a flurry of sneering remarks about New Jersey. (Jersey jokes! Does Neil Simon still walk the earth?) And yes, kicking off one of his most famous experiments, Ben announces, "Let's go fly a kite!"

Franklinland becomes much more interesting once William grows up and learns to push back. It's satisfying to see Ben, in London fighting for attention from his peers, fume over his son's alliance with George III. Later, when revolution looms and they join opposing sides, Ben tries to lure William to the cause of independence, making a persuasive case that the new nation is inevitable, a forward step for civilization. It's a fine twist; as everyone in the audience knows, Ben is on the right side of history, but his is a devil's bargain: For William to join the American experiment is to be lured back into his father's web. It's a tantalizing irony that cues another, more profound, change in their fortunes.

The play's title refers to a tract of land in Nova Scotia that Ben plans to turn into a wonderland for thinkers and scientific researchers. (This part is true, although I doubt it ever had such a Disneyland-style appellation.) The so-called Franklinland becomes something of a bargaining chip between him and William; it even figures in a bribery attempt. In the end, Ben has bigger fish to fry and a nation to invent, so his dream never happens. But the trouble with Franklinland is that it is stranded in a no-man's-land between historical drama and Saturday Night Live, never quite living up to either idea.

In the early scenes, Ben comes across as so insufferable that even the excellent Thomas Jay Ryan is hard-pressed to make him tolerable. The actor seizes his chances later on, creating a character whose lively intellect and sunny disposition are wedded to an ego the size of the 13 original colonies. (He explodes with rage most impressively whenever he feels his dignity is at stake.) Noah Keyishian, a new face, has little to do early on but gains stature and force as William begins to feel his worth. Both actors are impressive in the final scene, when, exhausted by the gyrations of revolution, the men strike a chilly peace. Mason Reeves makes an impressive late-in-the-evening appearance as Temple, who serves as a kind of Switzerland in the family conflict.

Except for a scene in which Keyishian is left facing upstage for too long, Chika Ike's staging is fast-paced, taking advantage of all the dramatic opportunities on offer. Riw Rakkulchon's smashing set design, depicting the interior of Ben's cluttered workshop, adapts surprisingly well to various locations, aided by Carolina Ortiz Herrera's lighting, including the attractive saturated color washes deployed during the scene changes. Christopher Vergara's costumes are meticulously tailored and attractive. The sound design team of Daniela Hart, Bailey Trierweiler, Noel Nichols, and Uptown Works provides eerily compelling underscoring suggestive of Franklin's invention the glass armonica as well as effects (thunder, surf, horses' hooves) and a cheeky preset playlist from the likes of All-American Rejects, Judas Priest, and Yellowcard.

A great deal of talent is involved, but Franklinland is an odd duck, not funny enough for satire nor consistently incisive as an examination of history and/or psychological drama. It feels like a compromise and there's nothing revolutionary about that. --David Barbour