In Messy White Gays, Drew Droege—the sharp-penned and quick-witted diarist of the contemporary homosexual—shines a harsh overhead light on the pores of White Gaydom, revealing what happens when throuples crumble, neighbors bicker, and rich and pretty clash with hot and dumb. It’s Sunday morning in Hell’s Kitchen. Brecken and Caden have just murdered their boyfriend and stuffed his body into a Jonathan Adler credenza. Unfortunately, they’ve also invited friends over for brunch. And they’re out of limes! Feel bad for them! They’re MESSY WHITE GAYS!
Although the pointless story erupts inside a Hell’s Kitchen apartment, the sweeping Central Park views from the picture windows of designer Alexander Dodge’s living room setting firmly situates the comedy some 50-odd floors atop Billionaire’s Row in midtown Manhattan. The geographical misplacement might be construed as a comment upon the accuracy of Droege’s satirical depiction of contemporary gay culture.
Droege could have penned a compelling autopsy report on contemporary gay male culture or a conduit for intermittently creative, pop culture-based barbs, and this play is the latter. It’s a massive disappointment, as Droege is a capable writer on a line-to-line level, with a decent vantage point about 30something gay people’s vices and virtue signaling. The blueprint for these men’s tiny, self-indulgent worldviews — where actresses, drug dealers, and tea dances dominate and people of color are a blip — is there. But Messy White Gays appears to have little interest in teasing out these privileges beyond shrill squabbling.
| 2025 | Off-Broadway |
Off-Broadway |
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