From left: Conrad Schott, Justin Weaks, Megan Graves, and Eunice Hong in Woolly Mammoth’s “Gloria.” (Photo by Teresa Castracane courtesy of Woolly Mammoth)
A vicious workplace comedy turns inside-out halfway into Gloria, the harrowing production now showing at Woolly Mammoth. The company hasn’t asked the press to hide the play’s show-stopping twist, unlike, say, the mafia-like silence demanded by a Hollywood studio following the screening of another limp blockbuster.
But Gloria’s central somersault is so stunning, an early leak would diminish this humanistic—if deeply pessimistic—play, a 2016 Pulitzer finalist. Here’s a show whose opening-night audience loudly gasped at a pivotal moment. Few spoilers could tarnish genuine artistry. This one would. Needless to say, my lips are sealed.
Shrewdly directed by Kip Fagan, Gloria opens and closes on a sleek, modern workplace with a majestic Bach Mass booming through theater speakers (the section in question is, unsubtly, also named “Gloria”). Playwright Branden Jacobs-Jenkins (also behind Woolly’s splashy 2016 show An Octoroon and 2013’s Appropriate) draws us into his grasp with a first act that seems cribbed from an episode of Girls or Broad City. He presents a stylized, one-sided war of words from the office’s millennial staffers toward its boomer managers, one angry cohort against the fortunate other.
Set in the high-pressure world of magazine publishing—and then book publishing, and then television production—Gloria parodies the ugliest aspects of “ambition junkies.” Even following tragedy, these characters are vipers, eager to cash in on catastrophe with little more than feigned remorse to spare.
Gloria ends darkly but starts with blistering laughter. Its bland corporate setting features four office drones—a credulous overachiever (the charmingly wide-eyed Megan Graves), a snarky self-promoter (Conrad Schott, cynical beyond his years), a lazy troublemaker (the fine Eunice Hong, here chewing scenery), and an innocent intern (Justin Weaks, authentic and sparkling)—three of whom spit venom with glee. The show’s tone shifts abruptly after intermission, with these actors mostly recast, usually against type (most notably Alyssa Wilmoth Keegan, who transforms from meek to mighty with chilling ease).
Only one cast member portrays a gentle human throughout, the excellent Ahmad Kamal. The befuddled Lorin, at first a dutiful fact-checker, also survived calamity. But his story isn’t for sale.
Lorin’s tears are our own. So is his bewilderment and disgust. And, if we’re lucky, so is his kindness and generosity. He’s the foil to these shameless social climbers. When Gloria concludes, its lone hero is well into his thirties and working as a lowly temp, unrecognizable to a former colleague who’s about to become a celebrity. Oh the indignity of dignity, a sorely needed virtue today, and one that’s punished in this unforgiving satire.
Gloria runs at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company through September 30, various times, $20-$75.
This post has been updated with the correct spelling for Kip Fagan’s name.
