The Gin Game Off-Broadway Reviews

With little sense of the wounds that fester beneath their mostly friendly but eventually fractious interplay, it’s hard to work up much interest in who comes out ahead in the games of gin—which symbolize, of course, the haphazard and inscrutable ...

With little sense of the wounds that fester beneath their mostly friendly but eventually fractious interplay, it’s hard to work up much interest in who comes out ahead in the games of gin—which symbolize, of course, the haphazard and inscrutable nature of much of the “game” of life. Most crucially, with minimal emotional investment in the meager drama, we grow as impatient as the characters often are with each other, eventually ceasing much to care whether Fonsia and Weller can set aside their unhappy pasts and forge a connection that might give them some solace in the present. The production ultimately feels as flat as a fallen house of cards.

“Gin Game” hasn’t stuck around this long for nothing, of course; there are flashes of insight and poignance even amid the ugliest moments. “I guess we just lived too long, Fonsia,” Weller muses, shortly after playing perhaps his cruelest tr...

“Gin Game” hasn’t stuck around this long for nothing, of course; there are flashes of insight and poignance even amid the ugliest moments. “I guess we just lived too long, Fonsia,” Weller muses, shortly after playing perhaps his cruelest trick on her. Perhaps Mr. Howard and Ms. Winger, whom I trust get along a lot better in real life than their characters do here, are finding some catharsis in this emotional torture; as a viewer, I certainly did not.

The venue is not really ideal for theatrical presentations, featuring a tiny stage, uncomfortable seats, and bad sightlines. But it does provide the opportunity for this indelible experience of watching two terrific, well-known actors performing thei...

The venue is not really ideal for theatrical presentations, featuring a tiny stage, uncomfortable seats, and bad sightlines. But it does provide the opportunity for this indelible experience of watching two terrific, well-known actors performing their hearts out practically within arm’s reach. It’s a treat.

David Blum does what all wise directors do when gifted with such solid performers: he gets out of the way. Ashley Basile’s pop-up set features the basics: a card table, two chairs, and a swinging loveseat (this last bit might not even be strictly n...

David Blum does what all wise directors do when gifted with such solid performers: he gets out of the way. Ashley Basile’s pop-up set features the basics: a card table, two chairs, and a swinging loveseat (this last bit might not even be strictly necessary). She has placed little dressing areas off to each side for the actors to change, extending the performances to the transitions as we see each character prepare for their next encounter, with anticipation or dread (Michael Schaffner’s costumes offer a clue, like armor for senior citizens going into battle). Sarah Woods keeps the lights at a contemplative dim for these transitions, while Bart Fasbender underscores them with the sound of a visiting choir, a bit of tinny overkill that nevertheless underscores the indignity of their situation.