Photography by Evan Michael Woods
—Jan Farrington
Don’t know about the rest of you, but ever since the global pandemic, I’ve barely been able to tolerate a Zoom meeting of more than fleeting length. Gives me hives, it does—too many itchy memories of pretending to accomplish things in a world that’s definitely checked out on us for a while.
Fortunately, the antidote may be at hand, as Jonathan Spector’s Eureka Day at Stage West features at its center the hum-dinger of all fated-to-fail Zoom sessions—this one, naturally, among the parents and staff of a pricey (and eye-rollingly crunchy) private school in some posh and organically clad Berkkeley neighborhood or another. “F” is For Feminism,” says the A-Z sign up on the wall.
The audience couldn’t stop laughing as the “meeting” went off the rails both onscreen and off—and was, eventually, called off by the inevitable reference to that German guy back when.
Still, this regional premiere of Spector’s play (which takes place during a mumps outbreak in the 2018-’19 school year), isn’t just in it for the laughs. While the jabs at these mostly progressive parents hit the target, a more complicated look at their opposition—parents who oppose vaccination (some for reasons we learn) are given the space to speak.
We know (it’s 2018, remember?) they don’t know what’s coming down the pike—but as a trial run of parental arguments, concerns, and counterforces, Spector’s play is a good place to sit and wonder what will happen to them in 2020. Mumps? People, you don’t have a clue.
Jakie Cabe plays Don, the school’s poetry-reading head and expert purveyor of careful, soothing, and mostly meaningless therapeutic phrases: “We are a school of choice in a community of intention.”… “We’re trying to make sure we’re holding space for everyone.” Though his voice is soothing, the body language gives away his desperation; he bounces and cheerleads constantly, slapping his hands together with stiff arms, and deflecting the board members around him toward safer topics—or at least safer wording. Cabe is hilarious to watch, even as we feel for his trapped situation.
The other parent members of the board are a well-mixed blend of personalities and opinions. Long-time board rep Suzanne (Dana Schultes) strikes us as a soft-spoken women who goes overboard to craft her messages in the gentlest terms possible. She pats her own heart…alot. Tech-bro dad Eli (Philip Matthew Maxwell) seems to see both sides (or at least talk that way), while brand-new Black board member Carina (Joy Yvonne Jones) wastes little time stating her opinions, though carefully at first. Mom Meiko (Breana Deanda) knits non-stop (is the shy, nervous, or quitting smoking?) and likes to put heads together to talk about issues. From the start, we begin to “get” that she has plenty of common sense and practicality—and a couple of secrets hidden in her cell phone, perhaps.
Directed by Jenna Burnett with a balanced treatment of the comic and serious opportunities offered in Spector’s script, the cast keeps personalities and arguments clearly defined—and sometimes surprise us in where they go and how much they reveal about themselves (at times NOT proving to be who/what we thought) over the course of the play. Softer, harder, more calculating, less certain. Who can tell yet? A character briefly seen named Winter (Jennifer Porter-Kennard) puts a pin in our new reflections on just what we’ve seen.
The play’s bright-toned and lighthearted school library setting (Clare Floyd DeVries)—plus the perky (even a bit ironic) music choices from sound designer Rayven Harris,—set up a happy atmosphere that lingers stubbornly through the uproar. Carly Hinson’s quietly character-driven costumes hit the spot for everyone onstage—and the disastrous parent/board Zoom meeting couldn’t have happened without the expertly timed projections of Jacob Rivera Sanchez.
During intermission, audience members around me commented on the sad loss of “civility” (so many Thanksgiving dinners disrupted, so many friends un-followed!). Then, perhaps figuring we sounded (we did!) like old fogies, we turned our attention to the drama class from a local high school that was filling the back row. “You think they’ll turn things around, do it better, bring back the nice, sociable conversation?”
Your guess is as good as mine. The kids in the back row weren’t saying.
WHEN: October 22-November 8, 2026
WHERE: Stage West,
WEB: stagewest.org
