N/A Off-Broadway Reviews

The play’s ideas and ideals are fine, and modestly if repetitively dramatized, but what makes this swift summer trifle so diverting is the embodiment of the women themselves. N and A are perfect incarnations of their congressional doppelgängers, down to Pelosi’s golden Mace of the United States House of Representatives brooch and A.O.C.’s signature “Beso” red lipstick. The gimmick also gives Holland Taylor (as N) and Ana Villafañe (as A) tasty roles and a meaty conflict to sink their teeth into.

N/A, by contrast, is like being stuck at dinner with a relative you wish would please talk about anything else (do N and A have any thoughts on the weather?). It’s claustrophobic, and ultimately boring; the structure traps the performers in limited caricatures. Holland Taylor specializes in playing toughened older women whether as a professor in Legally Blonde or Texas governor Ann Richards. She applies all her steel to N, throwing out one-liners with hefty torque: She can get a laugh just by pursing her lips and silently offering A a square of Ghirardelli chocolate in mid-conversation. That approach tends to chop Ana Villafañe, who plays A, right up. Villafañe’s done musicals (she was Gloria Estefan in On Your Feet!) and her angle on A turns the congresswoman into something of a flustered theater kid. I’m not sure that’s true of the actual AOC, who’s shown herself to be cannier and more of a deal-maker (at times, frustrating her own base) than the starry-eyed depiction you get here. But it’s hard to put the blame on the performer when she’s unsupported by the script, and from director Diane Paulus, who allows Taylor to showboat freely.

Democrats, be seated. Be seated with great anticipation. Playwright Mario Correa has a sizzling partisan entertainment for you, called succinctly N/A. And before any additional info is passed along, be aware that the N/A doesn’t stand for “Not Acceptable.” Certainly not unacceptable for Democrats, but then again maybe, just maybe, for Republicans. For Democrats N/A is so acceptable, it approaches cheers-level, if not reaches and surpasses it.

Under the straightforward direction of Diane Paulus, the two actresses deliver sterling performances, with the veteran Taylor milking every bit of humor from N’s sardonic asides and Villafañe capturing A’s fervent idealism. If N/A ultimately doesn’t have the thematic depth or resonance to make it a truly great play, it provides a vivid reminder that the art of politics can actually consist of more than mere name calling.

“N/A” may not be a political play for the ages. As the playwright himself acknowledges, it’s only “lightly imagined.” It doesn’t quite go anywhere. The ending feels almost arbitrary. Nothing is really resolved. But isn’t that exactly where we are right now?

That's where N/A slightly falters: It seems more likely to reinforce people's existing alliances than encourage them to really consider other perspectives. The play feels tailor-made, and -timed, for one express purpose: Get out the vote. Remind its likely audience of urban liberals that divisions within their party shouldn't drive them out of it. The show was supposed to open two days before Tuesday's primaries, after all — though it's still apt that it now coincides with a presidential debate.

In rare moments, N/A waves at the HBO series Hacks and intermittently gives the impression of wanting to become a play about an established woman begrudgingly learning from a promising protégé (and vice versa). We can almost hear Deborah Vance in N’s tea-kettle complaint that she has never been on the cover of Time magazine whereas her predecessors “got multiple covers—both men, both chased out of town with their tails between their legs!” Yet the mentor-mentee dynamic is short-circuited by bumper-sticker speeches that are as off-puttingly vague and vatic on the page as when spoken aloud. “Know your friends. Know your enemies. Know the difference.” “This is a fight for the soul of the Democratic Party.” “You are the face of a movement that would render us a permanent minority.” Who had voiced these koan-quotes? In their abstract amplitude, the utterances could have been made by either N or A—or anyone at all.

Taylor keeps her feet planted on solid ground; Villafañe spouts idealistic slogans about the Green New Deal and defunding ICE that will decimate the Democrats’ majority in the House. And each argument ends (and often begins) with Taylor getting the laugh. There’s really no other way to play the text, and under Diane Paulus’ direction, “N/A” soon emerges as a lopsided comedy act, with the deadly serious A(lexandria) having to set up alpha comic N(ancy), who hogs the spotlight.