Theatre in Review: Wolf Play (Soho Rep)

	Esco Jouléy. Photo: Julieta Cervantes

The bad decisions come thick and fast in Wolf Play, a drama about adoption that generates remarkably little sympathy for the parties involved. It begins with Peter, the white adoptive father of a Korean boy, showing up at the San Francisco home of Ash, who is nonbinary, and their wife Robin. Peter and his spouse (who remains unseen) have given up on the kid (who is known, variously, as Peter, Junior, Jeenu, and Wolf), shopping him around via a shady private club on Yahoo. The playwright, Hansol Jung, is vague about the details, but, quite apart from the morality of this deal, it's safe to say nobody has done their due diligence. For one thing, Robin is unnerved to discover that Wolf is six years old, not three. And Peter, who combines weakness and grievance in equal measures, is unhappily surprised that Robin and Ash are not a conventional heterosexual pair. "You're depriving my boy of a father?" he asks.

He should talk, since he is surrendering Wolf to strangers on the thinnest of pretexts. By way of justification, he says, "You must think I'm an animal, what kind of human being does this, but it's really, it's been hard with the baby, we have a newborn, we never thought we could, but anyway, he's um, a lot to take care of." I'll say he is: The understandably traumatized Wolf doesn't speak. He still wets the bed. And he is prone to bursts of violence. Clearly, Robin and Ash have their work cut out for them.

But Robin and Ash have enough trouble on their hands without adding a feral youth to the mix. Ash is opposed to the adoption, both in concept and execution. "I can't develop an attachment to someone just coz he lives in my house now," Ash says. "I've barely developed an attachment to myself." Ash, focused on making a groundbreaking debut as a professional boxer sparring with male opponents, is furious that Robin has acted unilaterally and in untimely fashion. Robin is adamant, saying, "I'm sorry I couldn't wait for you to be done thinking about it, for someone's unaffordable sperm to catch my sad, shriveled eggs but right now there's a child, in our house, can we please just be grown-ups about this?"

Good luck with that. Wolf Play is remarkably careless when it comes to motivations and backstory. Did Robin and Ash attempt a conventional agency adoption? Was Ash ever onboard with this plan? Did Robin pursue it entirely behind Ash's back? The script never says, leaving unexplained (except for the line quoted above) Robin's willingness to go through with this dubious and probably illegal transaction, seemingly on impulse. And is it really in Wolf's best interest to be inserted into a household of squabbling adults, including drop-ins by Ryan, Robin's brother, who, as Ash's trainer/manager, sees the boy as an unwelcome distraction?

Gradually, despite all the drama, the little family begins to form a unit. Still, the obstacles are many: Among other things, Robin has a meltdown when Wolf declines to accompany her to yoga class, preferring boxing practice with Ash. Robin takes the boy to the prizefight, where he freaks out at the sight of Ash being beaten up, causing the match to end in chaos. And Robin and Ash aren't shy about having high-decibel arguments with Wolf in the next room. By the time Peter returns -- having dumped his wife and biological child -- suing to regain custody, you may find yourself concluding sadly that Wolf is best off in an orphanage.

If Wolf Play were a drama about a child at the mercy of clueless, self-involved adults, I'd say that Jung was right on target. But I suspect we're supposed to feel for Robin and Ash, especially when those dastardly cisgender men Peter and Ryan team up to challenge the adoption; it's an awfully big ask. The script seemingly suggests that no one is ever ready to raise a child, that it's a lifelong case of on-the-job training; this may be true but, even so, Robin and Ash are appallingly unprepared.

Wolf, represented by a puppet designed by Amanda Villalobos and handled by the actor Mitchell Winter, breaks through the noise in certain moments, desperately clinging to the departing Peter or tentatively bonding with Ash over the breakfast table. But the charming, charismatic Winter must carry the burden of the play's chief metaphor, of the boy's imagined identity as a wolf, which is reiterated at wearying length; in moments of stress, he turns to howling, exacerbating the production's already shrill tone.

Indeed, Dustin Wills' staging is busy and imprecise, especially the confusing handling of scenes that unfold simultaneously in different locations. In You-Shin Chen's rather basic scenic design, the audience sits on opposite sides of the playing area, with various items -- doorways, couches, tables -- rolled or carried into place; these changes are often sloppily executed. (At the performance I attended, Winter knocked over a floor lamp, shattering the bulb; he recovered instantly, and his co-stars quickly got the floor wiped clean. But it points to the production's helter-skelter nature.)

The solid cast handles their difficult and often unpleasant characters with commendable honesty. Esco Jouléy gives Ash a blunt, unsentimental manner that captivates Wolf; their breakfast-table encounters, including a version of the vaudeville mirror routine, are surprisingly touching. Jouléy also gives an effective account of Ash's growing affection for the boy. Nicole Villamil, a fine performer in other roles, goes a long way toward minimizing Robin's less attractive qualities, but she still comes off as impulsive and needy. With his whining and endless self-justifications, Peter is well-nigh intolerable, qualities that Aubie Merrylees does nothing to disguise. Brandon Smith Homer works at making something coherent out of Ryan, who is largely defined by his shifting allegiances.

The rest of the design package suits the production's rough aesthetic. Enver Chakartash's costumes made a good account of Ash and Robin's different personal styles. Barbara Samuels' lighting ranges from basic white washes for the domestic scenes to bold colors and angles for the boxing match. Kate Marvin's sound design includes effects like birdsong and a car engine, as well as a pre-show playlist that includes, yes, "Hungry Like the Wolf."

As her previous work, Wild Goose Dreams, showed, Jung is a writer to watch. But Wolf Play, despite its obvious sincerity and good intentions, has its priorities backwards. Ash, Robin, and Peter, despite their claims on Wolf, come across as totally unfit parents. What that kid needs is an advocate, somebody who might finally consider what is best for him. And what Wolf Play needs to do is pause for a second and consider what the commitment to raising a child really means. --David Barbour