Eccentric characters rain hell on the reluctant central moral pivot in Theater Seven's production of "Election Day." While the anticipation of any high-stakes election can make anyone go off kilter, this production pushes things to the extreme before the results are counted.
It seems everyone has their own agenda on this election day. Knee-deep in mayoral race volunteering, Brenda (Robin Kacyn) pushes her nonchalant boyfriend Adam (Jeremy Fisher) to get out and vote, but all he wants to do is move his things into her apartment. Adam's delightfully directionless sister Cleo (Sue Redman) shows up to help, toting along a bag of Molotov cocktails given to her by her anarchist friend Edmund (James Kinney), planning to leave a telling mark on the election outcome. Meanwhile, mayoral candidate Jerry Clark (Adam Rubin) is going door to door to convince voters to show up at the polls for him, using phony charm with devilish intent. Sex, drugs, rock and roll, handcuffs and even exploding cars make this a day Adam doesn't soon want to relive.
While he is put upon time and again, Fisher's morally grounded, do-the-right-thing attitude slips into that of weary sad sack. You want him to fight back; he does eventually, but Fisher's high intensity misses the extra charge required. As Jerry Clark, Rubin superbly plays the mayoral candidate role like a true politician with an escalated opinion of himself. His superior attitude and booming voice captivate the stage, and because he spends the majority of the play topless in a pair of boxers, his "look at me" attitude fits perfectly.
Set in a typical antiseptic one-bedroom high rise, the stage design by Chantal Calato is fitting to match the "type A" personality of Brenda. Nothing is out of place, but it certainly isn't going to stay in order. The production makes good use of transforming the left side of stage into different sets through lighting, a few props and first-rate sound design by Miles Polaski.
There is plenty of action on stage, and soon the spotless apartment looks like a war zone. A Molotov cocktail is never launched, but the fireworks during the show's climax will still have you in shock, laughing the whole way to the polls.
Reviewed by Centerstage!
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