Grandma Irene (Mary Beth Peil) is flanked by grandpa Hank (Peter Maloney, left) and Josh (Noah Galvin, right) in Jake Brasch’s comedy-drama The Reservoir, a co-production of Atlantic Theater Company, Ensemble Studio Theatre, and the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation.
Josh, protagonist of Jake Brasch’s The Reservoir, is a New York University drama student and veteran blackout drunk. Careless and self-centered, Josh spreads pandemonium wherever he goes. Irksome as this conduct may be for those around him—especially his long-suffering mother (Heidi Armbruster), Josh is an audience charmer. Credit for that goes to Brasch’s wit and an adroit performance by leading actor Noah Galvin. Yet the achievement of this production owes less to the comic capital of the central character than to the heartfelt depiction of Josh’s grandparents, embodied by four notable veterans of the New York stage: Caroline Aaron, Peter Maloney, Mary Beth Peil, and Chip Zien.
Grandma Beverly (Caroline Aaron) comforts Josh after he has discovered his other grandmother has been lost to galloping dementia.
At the start of the play, Josh awakens from a blackout-bender at the edge of Cherry Creek Reservoir near Denver. He has no idea how he traveled to Colorado from New York City, the locale of his last pre-blackout recollection. Looking around, he muses: “Sunrise. Magenta. Lavender. Fuchsia. Wait a minute, I just realized something major: Sunrises are gay.” This, he quips, is “the perfect way to wake up from a bender. Why can’t it be like this every time? Usually it’s all broken teeth and handcuffs.”
Home in Colorado after washing out of both college and a cushy addiction-rehab program, Josh visits his maternal grandparents for lunch in their assisted-living quarters. Grandma Irene (Peil) is a sweet, farm-raised Midwesterner with musical talent and decades of devotion to church choir. Grandpa Hank (Maloney) is a broody, dogmatic pillar of their evangelical community. Seeing the two after many months away, Josh is alarmed: his grandfather is crankier and more bigoted than before; and upbeat Irene, always his favorite grandparent, has been overcome by galloping dementia. At the lunch table, without any evident prompt, Irene bursts into song. Though it’s not holiday season, she lets rip with “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” Her voice is clear, unwavering, the musical intonation unimpeachable and, despite her fogbound mental state, the lyrics are letter-perfect.
In his imagination, Josh questions neuroscience theorist and medical-school professor Yaakov Stern (Matthew Saldívar, right, who plays four roles in The Reservoir).
Reporting on that incident to Beverly (Aaron), his paternal grandmother, Josh laments that Irene is “just gone.” As he tries to understand her condition, Josh dips into a book by Yaakov Stern, professor of neuropsychology at Columbia University. Stern refers to “cognitive reserves,” which humans possess, in varying degrees, for resisting the degenerative effects of aging and other brain impairment.
“Education, curiosity, diet, sleep, exercise, these all increase your Cognitive Reserve,” says Stern (Matthew Saldívar) in an exchange occurring in Josh’s imagination. If Irene is “able to remember” that carol and deliver it so beautifully, Josh concludes, “maybe she’s still in there somewhere.”
Relying on a shaky understanding of Stern’s theories, Josh imagines he can help his grandmother “access those parts of herself” that have gone missing. With the professor’s book in hand, he sets out to improve the dwindling cognitive functions of all four grandparents, aiming for better living and enhanced longevity. He hopes, in the process, to improve his own alcohol-ravaged capacities as well. Perhaps, he tells himself, “that’s why I’m here.”
The play’s first act is overstuffed with exposition and Josh’s grandiosity. In the second half, the narrative accelerates, as Josh heeds the wisdom of Beverly, the tough-love grandma, who confesses she’s also an alcoholic, though long in recovery. “Stop trying to fix everything,” she commands. “Don’t listen to the crazy.”
Josh listens as grandpa Shrimpy (Chip Zien, right) shares his racy, politically dubious views in The Reservoir. Photographs by Ahron R. Foster.
The cast of The Reservoir features some of the most notable performances of the theater season thus far. Armbruster and Saldívar play multiple roles, each admirably distinct. The older actors, armed with Brasch’s clever, insightful dialogue, offer complex depictions of four senior citizens and a steady stream of surprises. Peil applies a light touch to dementia and stops the show with her unexpected Christmas carol. Maloney makes Hank’s struggle between disapproving fundamentalism and immense love for his grandson touching and thoroughly believable; and Zien, as grandpa Shrimpy, is similarly relatable (and hilariously icky), as he wrestles with the disorientation of being old while still feeling young.
Director Shelley Butler keeps things moving throughout, even in the spells of cumbersome exposition early in the play. Takeshi Kata’s set, mostly blue-to-teal curtains and scrims (atmospherically lighted by Jiyoung Chang), is an effective environment for Butler’s propulsive, cinematic direction. The sound design and original music by Kate Marvin lend sensitive sensory support as Brasch’s script toggles swiftly from reality to fantasy and back again. That script becomes increasingly engrossing as the play proceeds, with a conclusion that captures the very stuff of human experience, with its shifting emotions and uncanny proximity of sorrow, humor, and joy.
The Reservoir, a co-production among Atlantic Theater Company, Ensemble Studio Theatre, and Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, plays through March 22 at the Atlantic (336 W. 20th St.). Evening performances are 7 p.m. Tuesday, Thursday, and certain Sundays, and 8 p.m. Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday; matinees are 2 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. For tickets and information, visit atlantictheater.org.
Playwright: Jake Brasch
Director: Shelley Butler
Sets: Takeshi Kata
Costumes: Sara Ryung Clement
Lighting: Jiyoung Change
Sound & Original Music: Kate Marvin
