Review: THE PETERSON SHOW at Echo Theatre Company

We all know cozy family sitcoms. From “Leave It to Beaver” to “The Brady Bunch” to “Happy Days” to “The Cosby Show” to “Full House,” they’re homey and gentle and they teach a lesson in 22 minutes. But, like all filmed entertainment, they’re a façade. That stately Victorian home is just a set, the exteriors for the opening credits shot in Nob Hill in San Francisco or the North Shore in Chicago, far from the Hollywood soundstage where the series are actually shot.

And just like the homes, the characters aren’t real. The families are not perfect circles. And the actors behind them are often nowhere near as wholesome as they appear. Just look the 1990s series “Martin” in which there were allegations of sexual harassment, battery, and verbal abuse by its namesake star, Martin Lawrence, toward his on-screen wife, Tisha Campbell, until they were no longer sharing scenes together; “Family Matters” where Jaimee Foxworth was fired and her character written out with no mention of her ever again (after being a major character for four years!); and, of course, ’80s classic “The Cosby Show” whose legacy was forever tainted when the truth came out about Bill Cosby’s serial sexual assaults.

Those are a handful of the series that inspired THE PETERSON SHOW, a world premiere at the Echo Theater Company in Atwater Village. Focusing on five former child stars of the titular sitcom, the show is a trenchant, clever, and heartbreaking look at what happens when one man — the fictional family’s patriarch — has too much unchecked power and how that effects lives forever. As adults, they come together as the TV father falls into scandal, facing prison for assaulting 67 women. One of the actors has become a movie star (Kelly McCreary), one has left the business and is living a “normal” life (Kristen Ariza), one has gone into business (John Clarence Stewart), and two are struggling to get by at all (Tamberla Rogers and Devere Rogers). They all bring their own memories, resentments, and damages, testing their bonds and their fissures. Can they find a way to reconnect, to move forward together or separately?

The script by Janine Nabers is raucous and slapstick and ultimately disturbing. She takes us into a heightened world but makes it entirely relatable. We know these people. And as they spiral, they take us down a deep crevasse of questionable ethics and murky memories. It’s not quite “ripped from the headlines,” but it is uncomfortably familiar with Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein in the headlines and actor Stephen Collins (the kindly reverend from the television series “Seventh Heaven”) having completely fallen out of the spotlight following his admission of pedophilia. So while THE PETERSON SHOW is fictional, it rings with truth throughout. It’s not just timely, it is also, sadly, timeless.

Director Michelle Bossy has assembled an ace ensemble, each of whom fully inhabits their character, clocking five different perspectives of a similar experience. Each character is distinct and distinctly complex, the TV siblings squabbling like real siblings. Their camaraderie is electric and helps power the show. The set design by Michael Paul Kramer is stunning and is a perfect backdrop for the horror and humor that unfolds. The costumes by Wendell C. Carmichael really help establish character, and Matthew Richter’s lighting design sets both sinister and sunny tones.

Naturally, based on the premise, the raucous and hysterical comedy turns dark, leading to a powerful conclusion. There are no easy answers here, but Nabers raises many questions. What happens when something outside your control forever taints your legacy? How to separate art from artist? How to hold someone accountable even when you love them? Everyone’s truth is their truth. Our perspectives are based on our own histories, our own wounds, our own needs for self-protection. The good and sad thing is, more and more predators are being unveiled. It’s good they’re facing the music. But it’s sad there is music to face at all.

Photos by Cooper Bates

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