The “chance encounter between strangers” trope is a well-trodden path in storytelling. From films to television, the narrative of two individuals finding meaning in life through an unexpected meeting is commonplace. While not inherently flawed, this setup requires compelling reasons for audience investment. Ken Urban’s “A Guide for the Homesick,” which premiered at the Huntington Theatre Company, attempts this familiar narrative, but ultimately falls short of delivering a truly engaging experience. This analysis dissects the play’s plot, character development, and thematic exploration, offering a critical perspective on its strengths and weaknesses.
The play, under 90 minutes in length, feels stretched despite its multiple plot threads. The issue lies in the narrative’s core, which proves to be its least compelling aspect.
The opening scene presents two Americans, Teddy and Jeremy, entering a hotel room in Amsterdam with six-packs. The initial impression is that of fraternity brothers, lacking any discernible romantic or emotional connection. The subsequent awkward seduction attempt leads to the characters revealing their recent traumas with the subtlety of a pharmaceutical advertisement.
Jeremy, portrayed as anxious and desperate, recounts a tumultuous year spent mixing business and pleasure at a Ugandan health clinic. Teddy, on the other hand, reveals his presence in Amsterdam stems from the sudden departure of a newly-engaged coworker, towards whom he harbored concealed feelings.
Through flashbacks, enabled by dual casting, the play offers glimpses into the characters’ pasts. Belcher also plays Nicholas, one of Jeremy’s patients, while Levine embodies Ed, Teddy’s runaway friend. These brief interludes inject honesty and vitality into the otherwise stale one-night stand narrative.
Belcher’s portrayal of the flamboyant Ugandan and Levine’s depiction of the depressive escapee command attention, reflecting their overwhelming presence in the minds of their present-day counterparts. During these fleeting flashback sequences, the play momentarily succeeds as an exploration of guilt and compassion. However, the majority of the play unfolds in the confines of the hotel room, leaving the audience questioning the decision to remain in the present.
Colman Domingo’s direction, while functional, occasionally veers into misdirection. The central connection between the two men never fully materializes after the overly fraternal opening, leaving the actors struggling amidst conflicting messages and ambitions. Domingo’s control over the play seems most evident during the flashbacks, characterized by swift transitions and lighting cues, leaving the rest of the production in a state of ambiguity.
The overall misdirection places an undue burden on the two leads, forcing them to inhabit times and places that never fully realize their potential. Despite their best efforts, Belcher and Levine are constrained by lines that feel underdeveloped. Ultimately, the play and its production leave the audience yearning for other works that have tackled this familiar setup with greater success, creating a sense of homesickness for more compelling narratives. In essence, “A Guide for the Homesick” hints at deeper themes of guilt, compassion, and trauma, but fails to fully explore them, leaving the audience somewhat adrift in its disjointed structure.
