"The Humans:" Life is a Downer For The 99%

The New York Times recently ran a lengthy obituary of John Bradshaw, who achieved considerable renown as a self-help evangelist.

 

I mention this because Bradshaw, who initially experienced severe alcoholism after a troubled childhood, has been credited with bringing the term "dysfunctional family" into common use during his subsequent, very successful career.

Now, it seems we can't get away from it. Among other things, it has become a staple of a great deal of contemporary fiction and, of course, live theater where the emotions ordinary people may feel, but have difficulty expressing without disastrous consequences, are given free rein on stage.

One of the latest examples of this is a current Broadway play called "The Humans," by Stephen Karam.

In a Times review earlier this year, Christopher Isherwood called the play, about a family gathering for a somewhat makeshift Thanksgiving dinner in a distressing New York apartment, superlative.

"Written with a fresh-feeling blend of documentary like naturalism and theatrical daring, and directed with consummate skill by Joe Mantello, Mr. Karam’s comedy-drama depicts the way we live now with a precision and compassion unmatched by any play I’ve seen in recent years. By “we” I mean us non-one-percenters, most of whom are peering around anxiously at the uncertain future and the unsteady world, even as we fight through each day trying to keep optimism afloat in our hearts."

The play is, indeed, well acted and the set is all-too convincing -- to the point where one feels as if one is in the apartment with the family. And at times, it is very funny. But the jokes are for the most part transgressive in nature -- at the expense of people in difficult circumstances of one sort or another. One laughs at the punch lines and then doesn't feel particularly good about having done so.

While the family is depicted as treasuring strong bonds, as time goes by and one character after another is revealed to be troubled, compromised or having come up short in one way or another, those bonds seem increasingly superficial. The only character not in danger of heading into a downward spiral is the live-in boyfriend of the family's younger daughter -- but only because he will soon come into a trust fund rather than from his own efforts. He has little to offer other than the food.

If Mr, Isherwood is correct in saying that the play accurately depicts "the way we live," that myriad of life-is-a-downer New Yorker short stories that  I have complained about may not be so far off the mark. I also have a related post on what is missing in contemporary fiction.

How does it all end?  Well, without giving anything away, as the emotional intensity steadily increases -- in "The Humans" as in other plays in the same genre -- one begins to wonder how the playwright is going to bring things in for a landing.  Not easily and not always in a satisfactory fashion in my theater-going experience.