Eureka Day begins with a school board meeting between the parents on the Executive Committee of the progressive Eureka Day school in Berkeley, California. Whilst Eureka Day prides itself on its ability to respect the values and beliefs of every individual, an outbreak of mumps reveals the ideological cracks that underpin their democratic utopia. As one parent quips, ‘If consensus was easy, everyone would do it’, writes Madeleine Kelly
The fault lines rupture in the show’s funniest (and, god, is it funny) scene: a virtual town hall or, in the school’s jargon, ‘a community activated conversation’ that quickly goes awry. The parents’ group chat, projected above the stage, quickly dissolves into mudslinging on both sides. Although the committee’s desperate attempts to call the group to order were, drowned out by the laughter of the audience this felt like no loss as you got the impression early on that you could predict the characters’ thoughts before they voiced them.
This was one of the play’s downsides – the dialogue a little too expected, the laughs maybe a little too easy. By the interval, you wondered how much more material one could really get from the characters’ mostly earnest if unrealistic desire to accommodate everyone. But in the second half, the stakes are raised. It becomes clear that the school’s desire to accommodate everyone has serious consequences and the committee is torn in two. One side is led by hyper-liberal stalwart Suzanne, who is played to perfection by Helen Hunt and the other by normal newbie Carina, the equally wonderful Susan Kelechi Watson, whose bemusement at the school turns to horror as the play progresses.
In the absence of any real leadership from Don (Mark McKinney) a bumbling old hippie more interested in keeping peace than making decisions, the two must battle it out amongst themselves. The play is not sympathetic towards anti-vaxx views but in the character of Suzanne it finds (if perhaps a little too neatly) sympathy for those who hold them. The possibility of resolution becomes more implausible in this half and the committee begins to wonder if beyond consensus they must find truth.
The play is at its best when it asks hard questions about the problems of community making, when it examines the very real cost of others’ values and opinions. But in choosing to centre it around the harmful views of anti-vaxxers, the answers can come a little too easily, allowing one to view it more as a spectacle than a lesson. It is only the final scene’s regime change that has a chance to unsettle an overly comfortable audience. For a fleeting moment we must consider the cost of being right.
The Old Vic, The Cut, SE1 until 31st October. Times: Mon – Sat 7.30pm; Wed & Sat matinees 2.30pm. Admission: £12 – £125.
Booking: www.oldvictheatre.com
