Theater Review: Actually, We’re F**ked Speaks The Truth
At Cherry Lane Theatre a group of Millennial “frenemies” have united to hold conversations on how to help the world while, simultaneously, f**king up their lives. Written by Matt Williams and directed by John Pasquin, Actually, We’re F**ked, is the summation of every socio-political, philosophical debate we have tried to muster over hummus and carrots.
Every friend-group dives into their theories on why the world is sinking and, if it just listened to them, it would save itself. The problem is that you cannot save the world while sabotaging yourself. It was Rumi who said, “Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.” This quote is, literally, the thematic epicenter to the journeys of Frank (Gabriel Sloyer), Molly (Keren Lugo), Nick (Ben Rappaport), and Rachel (Mairin Lee). Each actor is exceptional in showing how smart and highly educated a person can be while having no common sense, emotional intelligence, or basic wisdom.
These characters twinkle and brighten when discussing how self-destructive the world is, but then betray and lie to each other and themselves as if the cruelty you do to those around you does not equate. Sloyer’s Frank is the Republican “independent,” whose higher education has made him bitter and less compassionate. He is solely focused on becoming a millionaire, and feels Molly, his wife, is flawed because of her all-encompassing sweetness and sympathy. This draws him to her best friend, Lee’s Rachel, whom is also laser-focused on being a millionaire. Yet, similar to him, she has married a man less materialistic or, at least, appearing so. For Rappaport’s Nick, the body is the only material you need to maintain, which makes him as self-absorbed for another reason. Like the Wiccan Molly, he, too, can become entrapped in his healthy, more spiritual lifestyle and his belief that it is the only way to be. Yet, for being four souls struggling to be happy, they cannot stop defining their life according to what they have or what is coming…. a baby.
When an affair leads to an unwanted pregnancy, both marriages and their friendships to each other other are put to the test. Actually, We’re F**ked plays out like a live-action rom-com; even feeling televised in humor. The writing of this play is super, quick-witted; think Lorelai Gilmore hosting The Daily Show. Mishaps, mistruths, and misadventures keep on interconnecting the couples as they both ponder why they married their partner and then became friends with their friends. The self-analysis is the most “adult” thing to happen in this play, which is why its absurd circumstance feels natural. There comes a point in every young adult’s life when they have to transition from childish to child-like; when they have to see you do not get what you want in life but you still have to learn how to want life. Thus, between random stats on India’s sewage system or listing vegan ingredients, they have deep realizations that whether you are obsessed with taking care of the world or your body, the most important thing you need to care for is your heart.
The kinder you are to yourself, the kinder you are to others. Compassion for others and self-love are inter-connected, and Actually, We’re F**ked oddly shows this by displaying how these supposed lovers and loved ones mistreat each other. By the end of this 90 minute play you question, amongst the laughs and “Aha moments,” the importance of liking someone in determining if you marry them or, at least, consider them your equal. More importantly, you ask whether liking yourself is vital to loving others, of which, though you may say yes, Actually, We’re F**ked shows that living by a moral code is different/ harder than living according to a lifestyle. To Buy Tickets To Actually, We’re F**ked Click Here. Located: 38 Commerce Street. Playing until April 7.
