Stacey is a California weather girl. An oversexed and underpaid harbinger of our dying planet. But today, her regular routine of wildfires, prosecco, and teeth whitening descends into a scorched earth catastrophe, before she discovers something that will save us all. A blistering dark comedy by Brian Watkins. This prescient play is a darkly funny, dizzying rampage into the soul of American strangeness.
Tyne Rafaeli’s brisk direction helps disguise the infelicities of the script, particularly a descent into magic realism that seems too convenient. McDermott’s performance is so fluid it could snap years of drought with torrential downpours. She’s a beguiling motormouth who responds to doubts about her chosen career with a steady drizzle of words: “I’m a fluffer, I’m a hype man, I’m a used car salesman selling a world we can’t even have.” We could all use a deliciously messed-up Weather Girl to deliver some hard truths and perhaps the hint of a miracle.
“Weather Girl” has a plot of sorts, although it’s not especially detailed or what you could call linear; I’d be surprised if the Netflix series sticks to it (assuming a Netflix series actually materializes.) In a program note, Watkin explains that he wrote the play to address the question: “Why do we wreck the places we love?” He explicitly means California, and implicitly Planet Earth. In answer, he packs his play with numerous ways we are all complicit. To give one example: During the date with the tech bro, he tells her he’s “part of a startup that’s building six hundred ‘smart homes’ nearby, and I say what about the water crisis, where will they get their water, and he says I dunno someone’ll figure it out” (Is this why she crashes his car? If so, the dots aren’t directly connected.) It’s not the plot nor the points that exert the biggest pull for “Weather Girl.” It’s how Julia McDermott’s performance holds all the elements together, even as everything is flying apart.
| 2025 | Off-Broadway |
Off-Broadway |
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