There are many ways in which fiction can impact the lives of the people who consume it. Sometimes, the imagined world can bring pure enjoyment. Other times it allows us to grapple with imaginations of futures or pasts we have never experienced. However, one of the strongest gifts that fiction can give is the opportunity to work through the very real pains of our very real experiences. One such intensity, which still looms very large in my mind, is the fallout of the COVID-19 pandemic, both of the illness itself, but also of the long period of intense isolation that occurred when the world suddenly stopped.
All at once, most people became abruptly trapped in their homes with only the company of whoever happened to be in “a pod” with them to keep them from losing their minds. (Though for me, that was a solo journey.) But, seemingly, the world wants to forget this period instead of unpacking it through art. Although this was a very real shared experience, I have yet to see it truly reflected in our literature, television, movies, and other fictional works. So imagine my surprise when I found a welcome, though intense, reflection of this harrowing period in the most unlikely place, Eric BogosianOpens in a new tab‘s play, Humpty Dumpty.
Humpty Dumpty, which is now playing in New York City’s The Chain Theater until May, was written around 2000 and is set in that era of time. For those playing along, that’s 25 years ago. And yet, the play, which tells the story of four friends who hail from NYC or LA but become trapped in the woods of upstate New York during a prolonged blackout, perfectly and viscerally captures the quarantine experience of 2020 and beyond. It’s eerily prescient, but in the best way. (There was a collective breathless gasp in the room when one character, discussing the Spanish flu pandemic, said, “But that could never happen now!”)
For our main characters, all of whom are creatives of a kind, the blackout descends without warning, ripping from them the hallmarks of the life they’ve lived up to that point and forcing them to examine what remains of their identities when they become separated from the structures of society. The play forces them to question whether their work and identities can exist and persist if suddenly all they have is one another and what they can create on the scales of just themselves. Questions that those working in creative industries during the pandemic surely asked themselves, I know I did.
In one particularly resonating scene, Max (played to perfection by Kirk Gostkowski), a very writerly kind of writer, complete with all the dramatics that entails, (affectionate), laments how the nights are long during the isolation. Max speaks of a deep sort of grief that descends when the sun sets in the sky and will not return again until the next day. It’s a visceral feeling, Humpty Dumpty notes, something arcane and ancient, that makes us understand how all kinds of people once worshiped the sun. Uncannily, I had almost identical thoughts during the deepest parts of quarantine, watching the sun set from my window and feeling a distinct sense of loss for the brightness of the day. Although Eric Bogosian wrote the play with Y2K in mind, it captures the essence of something so human that occurs when we lose touch with the world around us and remain trapped with largely ourselves for company.
But Humpty Dumpty doesn’t capture only the negatives of such a seismic shift in existence; it also sheds light and allows us to consider the positives. During the course of the play, Max, who proclaimed himself to be a writer but wasn’t really writing before the blackout, picks up his pen again. Perhaps no one can read his work but himself, but at least, his much sought-after vision of “being a writer” has come back to him in a truly more real way.
Meanwhile, Nicole (sharply played by Christina Elise Perry), Max’s wife and a high-powered book editor, at first deeply depressed by the change in situation, comes to realize that adapting to the new circumstance might not be a bad thing. She even allows influences into her life that she might not have previously considered and lets herself change and learn accordingly. In this case, she befriends Nat (charmingly played by Brandon Hughes), a salt-of-the-earth kind of fellow, who is the caretaker of the home our main characters have landed in. Although not thrilled with the circumstance of the blackout, Nat isn’t as moved by it as the other characters around him. And his advice to “have a little faith in people” seems to ring true. In many ways, Nicole’s growth and change render her a nicer, more palatable person, who might now have a better time in her life than she would have before this experience.
We also meet Spoon (gorgeously played by Marie Dinolan), an actress, who feels relieved to finally be able to put her phone down and take a deep breath. She’s forced into the corner of an airhead before the blackout, but it turns out that she’s resilient, smart, and able to survive despite expectations. Shedding society lets her shed some of the labels that were forced onto her. Finally, Troy (wittily played by Gabriel Rysdahl), the final member of the foursome, well, he stays pretty much the same, but we need a loveable jerk to shake our heads at.
These arcs, too, all echo the reality that many people encountered during quarantine. Humpty Dumpty perfectly distills that bittersweet blend which comes from mixing the gloriousness of unplanned growth and the sadness over what you’ve lost and cannot retrieve.
And, ultimately, Humpty Dumpty is hilarious, especially if you can feel yourself being gently teased by the narrative for your own bad habits, whatever they may be. The writing is witty, the zingers zing, and the audience is constantly laughing, even through the darker times. Most importantly, the characters feel real and realized without leaving you behind. You become transported into someone else’s world, but you still feel deeply a part of it.
Humpty Dumpty may not seem like the kind of play that could be declared as “timeless.” One might imagine that word saved for something softer, sweeter, more romantic. But though Eric Bogosian wrote it over two decades ago, Humpty Dumpty manages to tap into a vein of humanity that makes it truly withstand the test of time. It echoes through so many major events in our lifetimes, and will likely echo through many more. For me, it rose up from 25 years ago and brought a feeling of catharsis that was so strong, and yet I hadn’t even known I’d been looking for. Timeless, indeed.
If you’re in NYC, you can see Humpty Dumpty for yourself until May 3. Tickets are available hereOpens in a new tab. If you’re not local, you can buy the screenplay to peruse at your leisureOpens in a new tab.
