Jim Parsons guides us through the Thorton Wilder classic

“Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?”

So goes the question asked and answered by Thorton Wilder’s Pulitzer prize-winning play, a text just as resonant 86 years after it was penned. The short answer is, of course, no. And the long answer is once again unfolding on Broadway, under the direction of Tony winner Kenny Leon.

“This play is called Our Town,” Jim Parsons tells the audience, delivering the opening lines as Stage Manager, the narrator who guides us through the story. He then divulges details of the play’s history, its cast, and all those who had a hand in crafting it. It’s both the turn of the 20th century in a small, New Hampshire town and present day, in the Barrymore Theater.

Even before Parsons speaks his first bout of meta-dialogue, it’s clear that the entirety of the theater will be the stage. The cast members descend the aisles lit by candlelight, singing a mesmerizing hymn that unites the people who will soon fill the town. On either edge of the stage are pews where audience members sit. As Wilder requested in his script, props are almost nonexistent and the scenery is minimal: two tables, six chairs, and an unremarkable piano. There’s simple, expertly deployed lighting design from Allen Lee Hughes, including the occasional lantern, but otherwise? The rest is pure, unfiltered imagination. And it’s all too easy to fill in the blanks. The space appears sparse and simple, which makes it all the more vast.

Thus, we’re welcomed into the world of Grover’s Corners, the small New Hampshire town that is home to the Gibbs and Webb families, neighbors who experience growing up, adulthood, and, eventually, death. Leon’s inclusive approach to casting means the play better reflects life as we know it. The Gibbs family is Black and the Webb family is white; the Professor who delivers key anthropological context is played by Native American actress Shyla Lefner; the local milkman is played by a deaf actor, John McGinty, who signs his lines, to which his neighbors sign their responses. The Stage Manager insists that it is 1901, but also affirms that it is not.

Or, as one of Wilder’s characters eloquently puts it, we are located in “the United States of America; Continent of North America; Western Hemisphere; the Earth; the Solar System; the Universe; The Mind of God.”

Leon has trimmed the three act classic down to 1 hour and 45 minutes and the pacing is far from brisk until suddenly, in its third act especially, it goes by all too quickly. Though its newfound flow comes at the expense of quaint, but weighty moments from the original text, Wilder’s philosophy still runs through the story. Our Town is all straightforward sentimentality. Where a scene could play as sappy, it is raw and matter-of-fact, as it ponders a frightening existential concept: the brevity of human life.

The most winning aspect of Wilder’s play is its warmth. Leon preserves this, as do his actors. Zoey Deutch, making her Broadway debut, is as instantly likable as ever. She balances easy charisma with distinct vulnerability, something that is crucial to the arc of Emily Webb when her life takes a tragic turn. She shares charming chemistry with Ephraim Sykes (Ain’t Too Proud), the boy-next-door who wins her heart with kind words and a well-timed ice cream soda. Meanwhile, Katie Holmes fulfills an almost thankless role, granted little time to shine as Mrs. Webb, but provides a grounding presence as the practical mother of two.

Michelle Wilson (Sweat, A Raisin in the Sun) and and Billy Eugene Jones (Purlie Victorious) are standouts as Dr. and Mrs. Gibbs, loving and occasionally stern parents who impart wisdom in their most casual conversations — and always know their way around a good speech when someone is in need of perspective.

It’s Parsons who is our constant, yet his performance is the most difficult to parse: his Stage Manager strikes the Wilder balance of dry yet sincere, but feels rather distanced. He leaves us wanting in some moments — for comfort, sentimentality, or perhaps just clarity — but when the time comes for his critical third act monologue, he has just the right words, just the right tone. 

Our Town is, arguably, utterly plotless. What drama plagues the town of Grover’s Corners, besides a single drunken organ player? Two teenagers fall in love —not in the midst of explosive drama or against all odds — they merely share a conversation, two ice cream sodas, and a quiet, convenient moment of revelation. And people die, as they always do. But then, it isn’t about what happens but the unremarkable reality of it happening at all.

Not coincidentally, the most striking aspects of this particular production are baked into the DNA of Wilder’s timeless play. There’s something undefinable missing: perhaps a cut line that was the secret skeleton key or merely the fact of changing the pacing and losing the reality of the show’s slow simplicity. Ultimately, Wilder’s words remain the magic; the progression from a day to a wedding to a funeral a guaranteed gut punch. It is, if nothing else, a reminder that life itself ought to be thoroughly appreciated. Grade: B