“Celebrations are rare these days.” That’s what Jame says to her best friend, Puff, the recently promoted and highly anxious manager at Revolution Cuts, a chain hair salon nestled in the middle of a strip mall somewhere in America. They’re trying to decide what to do to commemorate Puff’s 26th birthday, but so far, all they’ve managed to do is wander out into the alley to take out the trash. Jame is right. In today’s world, everyone is so busy, so atomized, so burdened by economic considerations and political machinations outside of our control, that even the simple act of deciding what to do for one’s birthday can provoke a full-on panic attack. Puff hasn’t made any plans, and it falls to Jame to cajole her friend into having fun. Luckily, the birthday party ball gets rolling with some help from Georgia, an eccentric Ross Dress-For-Less employee who just happens to be passing through the alley and is delighted to join in the festivities.
Director Rebecca Harris takes her time with these characters, drawing out their quirks and neuroses in a way that feels purposeful, yet organic. Natalie West is particularly excellent as Georgia, whose sedate, cardigan-wearing exterior quickly erodes, revealing her capacity for fun and her desperate need to connect with someone other than her perennially absent, church-obsessed husband. As Puff and Jame, Clarissa Thibeaux and Anna Basse have the kind of lightning-in-a-bottle workplace chemistry that will be familiar to anyone who’s ever worked a thankless retail job. It’s their genuine care and love for one another, and the way they effortlessly expand their camaraderie to include Georgia, that enables her to imagine that, as she puts it, “the world is just folding and folding, and I’m caught between the folds”.
Neveu’s zany, freewheeling script is as sweet and decadent as the candy Jame purchases from Linden Liquors, yet pockmarked with what Puff calls “midnight dark kernels”—moments of melancholy that serve to temper a story that could otherwise wind up unbearably saccharine. As the characters swap stories, confessions, lies, and life advice, we’re continually reminded that what they’re doing in this alleyway is nothing short of a miracle. How often does the woman you met once in the coffee line come to your birthday party and become your new best friend? How often do people on the verge of doing something destructive find themselves being comforted and disarmed by the love of total strangers? It may not be the most realistic thing in the world, but in our current moment, when everything feels so fractured, it’s an absolute delight to watch.
I spent most of this play waiting for the other shoe to drop. At what point will the newfound camaraderie o shatter into a million pieces? When will things get really bad, as they almost inevitably do in stories where people dabble in guns, illicit substances, and painful confessions on company property? Part of the brilliance of Revolution is how it plays with our expectations, convincing us that something sinister is going to happen only to pull the punch and show us that a less traumatic resolution is possible. Despite some ominous set-ups, Neveu isn’t interested in making these characters suffer more than they already have. Instead, Puff, Jame, and Georgia use the knowledge they’ve gained from past misfortunes to figure out how to move forward, triggering a series of tiny revolutions in one another—and, of course, keeping the party going, right up until they finally decide to decamp to the nearby Rainforest Café.
In a world of increasing alienation, Revolution reminds us that there is no anxiety-reducing technique more effective than a celebration with friends. There’s also no wrong way to celebrate. So, grab your tinfoil-wrapped bowling ball full of mystery drugs (or not), take yourself out for a night at the theater, and don’t forget to end the night with a Cheetah Rita—or nine.
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