I hadn’t expected to like The Roommate, the one act play by Jen Silverman at the Booth Theatre. In fact, I thought I would hate it. As a critic I like to approach shows having read little about them. What I knew was that it sounded like a 2024 version of The Odd Couple — a meek Midwestern divorcee living alone in an Iowa farmhouse who takes in a lesbian from the Bronx sounded pretty ho-hum to me.
I expected 90 minutes of sitcom humor, which I dislike. The play does start that way but before long it throws us a sharp curve that gives it a real plot, a funny one that twists with unpredictable turns and momentum.
The show, directed with precision by Jack O’Brien, is a two-hander featuring A-Listers Patti LuPone and Mia Farrow. I know I don’t have to tell you which role each plays. While I am not a Farrow fan (to put it politely), her character is so richly drawn for comedy that she manages to steal the show from LuPone, a powerhouse if ever there was one. Farrow’s timing is perfect and she seems to be having a blast playing Sharon. She just keeps going as her character veers deeper and deeper into craziness, using just the right amount of subtlety and necessary understatement. LuPone, as Robyn, can do little more than look on.
I won’t reveal the plot because that would spoil your enjoyment. You’ll love it, and watching these veteran actors perform together you can’t miss the chemistry. That’s unsurprising because they have been close friends for more than 30 years and live in the same county in northwestern Connecticut. Farrow was offered her role first and LuPone joined the show based on the opportunity for them to work together for the first time.
I like the way O’Brien handles their fame. Before the play begins he has them walk onstage together to get ahead of that annoying applause American audiences give to famous performers as soon as they appear, often interrupting the story. Their names are projected large behind them. He could have skipped that. We knew who they were before we arrived. But it was nice to get the exuberant applause out of the way and begin the play uninterrupted.
People more familiar with television than I, which is just about everyone, will recognize the voice of Sharon’s son who calls from New York. That voice belongs to Farrow’s real life son, the journalist Ronan Farrow. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t read that little tidbit.
As we were leaving I said to my friend, “that was cute.” She begrudgingly agreed but said she wouldn’t elevate her praise beyond that. But that’s all it needs to be. On a Friday night after a long week of work 90 minutes of cute is enough. I can see complicated dramas another time. I left the theatre happy.
