A family faces a series of crises in their new basement bunker in L. B. Browne’s Safe House (photo by Viktorija Mickute)
SAFE HOUSE
Theatre Row
410 West 42nd St. between Ninth & Tenth Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through September 13, $39-$67
www.splitdecision.co
www.theatrerow.org
It’s a shame that L. B. Browne’s Safe House is having such a short run at Theatre Row, playing a mere twelve performances through September 13, because it’s a superb drama, a microcosm of what’s happening in America today.
It takes place in a bunker being built by a tough right-winger named Rock (Marc Kudisch) with the assistance of his enabler wife, Slipper (Karen Ziemba), in their suburban Pennsylvania house. Forest Entsminger’s set is a somewhat claustrophobic basement with wood beams, two doors, a couch, a table, shelves of canned goods, tools and other supplies, and several rifles and pistols hanging on a wall.
“I think we’re the only folks around here reinforcing a basement pantry against nuclear fallout,” Slipper says. Rock, a former longtime Department of Defense contractor and army vet, responds, “Pantry? This isn’t soup and flour. It’s infrastructure, it’s freedom.” Rock is concerned that if the upcoming presidential election goes a certain way, a second civil war would be imminent.
They have two daughters: Ashley (Anna Roman) is a prim and proper family court lawyer, while Claire (Grace Church) is a teenager who ran away from home the year before. The twenty-seven-year-old Ashley had been finally planning on getting her own place, but the painful disappearance of her sister, ten years younger, caused her to remain to help her parents deal with the crisis. They hadn’t heard from Claire until she suddenly returns, with a little surprise that sets off everyone’s feelings and beliefs about various hot-button issues; Claire’s left-wing radicalism does not sit well with Rock’s ever-more-extreme views. The hot-headed Rock wants her gone, but Slipper and Ashley convince him to let her stay for at least a few nights.
Dr. Calvin Merritt (Justin Lee Miller) drops by unexpectedly to chat privately with Rock about his alarming diagnosis eleven months earlier and whether he’s told his wife and kids yet. Rock, who has not done so, insists he’s as strong as an ox, pointing out the bunker as proof, despite his occasional twitches and shakes. “You know these tests get mixed up all the time. Nothing like that runs in my family,” Rock says matter-of-factly. “The General, Ma, when their time came, they were healthy enough to make death cruel.”
When Dr. Merritt reminds Rock that his father, the General (Glenn Seven Allen), died in Vietnam when Rock was a child, his father, in uniform, enters from a far corner. Rock talks to the hallucination as if it were real, momentarily forgetting that the doctor is there; the words Rock speaks relate to both his father and Dr. Merritt in a potent way, as exemplified in this exchange:
The General: You couldn’t hold steady enough to hit the broad side of a barn.
Dr. Merritt: Your father had the gene; just didn’t live long enough to find out.
Rock: I was a boy.
Dr. Merritt: Yeah, you couldn’t have known. Are you okay?
Rock: I told you, I’m feeling great.
Dr. Merritt: Your hand’s shaking.
The General: Like the first time you brought a buck to its knees.
Rock: I’m not shaking.
Dr. Merritt: You don’t even feel it, do you?
The General: Shameful sight, the way you shook on that trigger.
Rock: I didn’t shake!
It’s a clever plot device that is effectively used several times through the rest of the play, with Rock encountering both the General, as if her were alive in the present, and seven-year-old Claire (Julianna Layne), reliving scenes from the past.
As Claire’s situation grows more dire because of Rock’s unyielding, unsympathetic reactions, the bunker is in danger of collapsing like a house of cards.
The past and present merge for Rock (Marc Kudisch) in timely debut by L. B. Browne at Theatre Row (photo by Viktorija Mickute)
Safe House is a sparkling debut for novelist, editor, Fulbright Fellow, and physician Browne; she has crafted a gripping, timely story with well-drawn characters caught up in circumstances that are not always in their control, fraught in family dynamics and the difficult legacies parents leave for their children. At first, it’s not clear what political side anyone’s on. Rock declares, “Things are only getting worse. Grid’s thinner, egg prices are climbing, and crooks are running the whole damn show. You know I’m right.” He could be talking about the Democrats or the Republicans, although he eventually rails against the Democratic Socialists, referring to them as “commie goons” who are going to steal the election; he gets into a heated argument with Claire, who holds nothing back, while Slipper seeks a détente.
The family itself represents the divides in America today, without ever mentioning any politicians or parties by name: Rock is the far-right fearmonger lacking empathy and compassion for his fellow human being and not trusting science, although that can be perhaps attributed at least in part to his illness; Claire is the Democratic Socialist who believes in universal health care and government programs for the poor; Ashley is the intelligent, successful single woman who knows precisely what is going on but tries to avoid getting overly involved in controversy, focusing on her career instead; and Slipper goes about her business as nice and sweet wife and mother, saying nothing to upset anyone except when she worries that Ashley needs to find a man, something her daughter does not appreciate.
Three-time Tony nominee Kudisch (Thoroughly Modern Millie, The Wayside Motor Inn) gives a powerful, boldly physical performance as the aptly named Rock, a determined, serious man unwilling to accept his vulnerabilities, dead-set on protecting his family even as his delusions threaten to overwhelm him, always on the verge of exploding. Tony winner Ziemba (Contact, Curtains) is gently touching as Slipper, imbuing her with an innate good-heartedness that covers her inability to stand up to her husband. A thoughtful, impressive Roman, who made her off-Broadway debut in July when she took the stage for Juliana Canfield in Girl, Interrupted at the Public, provides a steady balance as Ashley, who the others take for granted as she tries to hold it all together. In her professional theater debut, recent NYU grad Church is deeply affecting as the teenage Claire, an idealist at odds with not only her family but the world itself, searching for her place, wise beyond her years. Miller, Allen, and Layne deliver admirable support in their key roles.
Director Benjamin Viertel (The Peepholeman) expertly navigates the cast through the space, which becomes ever-more confining as the tension mounts, highlighted by a shocking twist. Several beams at the front both allow the audience to see into the bunker and invite us in, implicating us in the conflicts; each one of us either is or knows these fictional characters all too well. Browne’s dialogue is quick-witted and intense, brutally honest in its depiction of 2026 America, where friends and families are torn apart over politics. She also throws in some Easter eggs, beginning with the preshow music, which ends with Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land,” the oft-misunderstood patriotic protest anthem that was a response to Irving Berlin’s “God Bless America” and that originally contained two verses critical of the state.
The play could use some tweaking — the night I went, both Viertel and Browne were there, taking notes — but I think that’s why it’s at Theatre Row for only twelve days, hopefully a tryout/showcase for a much longer run, which it richly deserves. That is, if we don’t have another civil war. . . .
[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer; you can follow him on Substack here.]
