Audiences didn’t quite know what to make of The Flick when it premiered off-Broadway in 2013. It’s long (three hours), doesn’t contain a lot of action, and relies on extended periods without dialogue. But Annie Baker’s intimate drama about three employees at a rundown, single-screen movie theater in Massachusetts is a modern masterpiece, and Undermain Theatre’s production is currently showcasing why.
Rows of red, stained, gum-spotted seats fill one side of Undermain’s basement space, the normally cumbersome columns disguised as Art Deco embellishments with fading gold paint (scenic designer Robert Winn and lighting designer Steve Woods eerily capture the feel of a once-bustling social destination left to crumble). Light blinks from the projection room at the back — our front, as we sit where the screen would be — as a film whirs through the end credits. Music swells for several minutes, drawing out the scene and building the tension until Sam (Alex Organ) pushes through the swinging doors, broom and dustpan in hand.
He’s showing the new guy, Avery (Jared Wilson) the ropes: the best way to sweep up the dropped popcorn, when to mop the sticky soda puddles, what to do with an abandoned scuzzy sneaker (“Do you think someone left it on purpose?” Avery wonders). The two men grunt and haltingly converse, the awkward chitchat of new coworkers feeling each other out.
Sam is in his 30s, living in his parent’s attic and continually getting passed over for promotions at his low-wage job. Avery is college-age, quiet and polite, his red polo carefully buttoned to the top. It’s when the chatter turns to movies that they both relax, finding common ground in their love of cinema.
Baker peppers her play with enough movie references to appease superfans, but not so much as to shut out casual watchers. The same thinking applies to her play — though it won the Pulitzer Prize for drama last year and its lengthy run time might intimidate, the story of three directionless slackers killing time while learning how (and how not to) connect is entirely accessible.
The cast, rounded out by a nuanced Mikaela Krantz as wild-child Rose and Taylor Harris in two smaller roles, helps make this superb production resonate. Director Blake Hackler isn’t afraid to let the silence sink in, yet knows when to accelerate the free-form dialogue of his Millennial characters.
Listening to the actors interrupt each other and trail off, “like” and “whatever” punctuating their thoughts without ever sounding forced, is dangerously soothing. As the relationships deepen, it becomes clear that these folks have a lot to say, even if we weren’t paying attention earlier.