Rajiv Joseph’s Gruesome Playground Injuries traces the friendship between Kayleen (Kara Young) and Doug (Nicholas Braun) (photo by Emilio Madrid)
GRUESOME PLAYGROUND INJURIES
Lucille Lortel Theatre
121 Christopher St. between Bleecker & Hudson Sts.
Tuesday – Sunday through December 28, $42-$225
gruesomeplaygroundinjuries.com
lortel.org
The title of Pulitzer Prize finalist Rajiv Joseph’s Gruesome Playground Injuries, at the Lucille Lortel Theatre through December 28, is a bit misleading. One might assume that it has something to do with the bad cuts and bruises kids get while playing outside, but it goes well beyond that; instead, it is a distinctively adult look at the physical, psychological, and emotional damage we suffer throughout life, bearing heavy wounds that are not always easily healed. It’s about real pain, the kind that digs deep under your skin, into your heart and soul, affecting the way you see and react to everyday existence. It’s also extremely funny.
The ninety-minute play unfolds in eight segments that follow the friendship between Kayleen (Kara Young) and Doug (Nicholas Braun) over the course of thirty years, from age eight to thirty-eight. However, they are not told in chronological order but in jumps of fifteen years going forward and ten years going backward; for example, the first three scenes take the characters from eight (“Face Split Open”) to twenty-three (“Eye Blown Out by Firework”) to thirteen (“The Limbo”).
In between scenes, the actors change costumes onstage, usually next to translucent screens on either side, and rearrange two hospital-like beds; they also apply their own makeup, which can involve blood, bandages, and eye patches. In addition, interstitial music ranges from Cracker’s powerful “Low” to Sleeping at Last’s moving acoustic cover of Men without Hats’ “The Safety Dance” to Gary Jules’s evocative “Little Greenie,” in which he sings, “You know / That in spite of all the things that you show / You’re fucking around with something / You cannot control / If it scares you so / Then make it go away.”
The rhythmic dialogue merges humor with details of horrific wounds; an early exchange when Kayleen and Doug are eight sets the tempo:
Kayleen: One time, I threw up because I had a stomach ache and I threw up so bad that my one eye started to have blood in it.
Doug: Why.
Kayleen: Because I threw up so hard and so there was blood in my eye.
Doug: Did it hurt?
Kayleen: No. But it was red. I have a sensitive stomach. The doctor told me. There’s an angel on the roof.
Doug: No there’s not.
Kayleen: Yes there is. It’s a statue. Are you going to go to the doctors?
Doug: To get stitches. I like to get stitches.
Kayleen: Why.
Doug: It makes your skin feel tight.
Kayleen: Does it hurt?
Doug: Yeah.
Kayleen: This room is like a dungeon.
Doug: What’s a dungeon?
Kayleen: It’s a room in a castle. It’s where people languish.
Doug: Oh.
Kayleen: The rest of the castle is loud and has bright lights and flags and hot oil because of wars. But the dungeon is where people can go to languish and get some peace and quiet.
Doug: OW!
Kayleen: What?
Doug: My face hurts. I broke it.
Kayleen: You did not. It’s just cut. Can I see it?
Doug: What?
Kayleen: Can I see the cut on your face?
Doug: Why.
Kayleen: Can I? . . . Does it hurt?
Doug: A little.
Doug: What happened to the blood in your eye?
Kayleen: It went back into my head. . . . Can I touch it?
Doug: Why.
Kayleen: Can I?
Doug: Okay.
As the story goes back and forth in time, we learn about Kayleen’s and Doug’s families, their careers, their relationships, and their fears, but their desires are often thwarted. They love and need each other — Doug believes that Kaylee’s touch can heal him — even when years pass without contact. (The play takes place in a time before cellphones.) While Doug’s injuries occur because he tends to do impractical things and take irresponsible chances, Kaylee’s trauma is more self-inflicted. He is a kind of hopeless dreamer who can’t get out of his own way, while she is far more introspective and deliberate.
“I’m accident prone. That’s what my mom says I am,” thirteen-year-old Doug tells Kayleen, who replies, “If you’re riding on the handlebars of a bike going down a hill, you’re not accident prone, you’re retarded.” Doug: “You shouldn’t say ‘retarded.’ That’s real rude to retarded people.” Kayleen: “Sorry I offended you.” Doug: “No, it’s cool.”
Kayleen keeps calling him “stupid,” but she understands that she has also made bad decisions. “I know I know I know . . . I’m so stupid. I’m always . . . I’m just fucked up, you know that. And so I need you to stick it out, Dougie,” the twenty-eight-year-old Kayleen admits. “I really need you right now. I really need you to come over and show me some stupid shit again, tell me some stupid joke like you always do.”
It’s a difficult show to watch — there’s a reason why the word “gruesome” is in the title — but it also a profoundly rewarding and, yes, immensely entertaining experience.
Doug (Nicholas Braun) and Kayleen (Kara Young) share their unique life experiences in Rajiv Joseph revival (photo by Emilio Madrid)
As he has demonstrated in such previous works as Describe the Night, Dakar 2000, and King James, Joseph writes complex narratives, and director Neil Pepe (American Buffalo, On the Shore of the Wide World) does a superb job maneuvering through Gruesome Playground Injuries, which premiered in 2009 at the Alley Theatre in Houston, with Selma Blair and Brad Fleischer in the lead roles. Arnulfo Maldonado’s set is spare but efficacious, with contemplative lighting by Japhy Weideman, creating shadowy effects with the screens. (David Van Tieghem composed the original music and designed the sound.)
Three-time Emmy nominee Braun and two-time Tony winner Young might not at first seem to be the perfect fit; best known for playing Cousin Greg in Succession, Braun is making his off-Broadway debut, while Young has proved herself to be one of New York’s most talented and engaging actors, having dazzled in such diverse productions as Clyde’s, Purlie Victorious: A Non-Confederate Romp Through the Cotton Patch, Table 17, Cost of Living, and Halfway Bitches Go Straight to Heaven. They also have a rather noticeable height discrepancy; Braun is six-foot-seven, whereas Young is about five-foot-two.
But they shine from the start. Whether they’re portraying silly eight-year-olds hopping and flopping around or serious thirty-three-year-olds examining their futures, Braun, tall and gangly, Young, taut and energetic, both with impressive bodies, have a stirring chemistry. When they are changing outfits and putting on their makeup, using sinks at opposite sides of the stage, it’s like watching a tennis match; you don’t want to miss a thing as your head darts back and forth to catch their every move. And in this case, they both emerge as champions.
[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]