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The Roommate Barely Unpacks Its Own Boxes
It settles in, and then it’s gone.
(Seriously, I’ve never seen actors flee a theater so fast; my show companion and I had been standing outside the Booth for what felt like 30 seconds getting ourselves in order before the applause went up and the SUVs pulled past, one with a Patti-focused vanity license plate … so I guess not an Uber after all.) Carting a bunch of half-heartedly packed boxes that scream “prop!,” Robyn has ditched her life in the Bronx and arrived in this endless field (that Sharon lives in Iowa City doesn’t seem to have affected the “middle of nowhere” set design). Casually defrauding old people and, as Sharon eventually does, suggesting using 12-year-olds as drug mules and buying an AR-15 at Walmart just to “be prepared” — it’s the kind of dark, glib take on girlboss energy that can power a very funny TikTok, but not a play with aspirations to emotional complexity.
Or read this on VULTURE