On the remote outskirts of a small Idaho town, a razor-tongued aunt and her long-estranged nephew find themselves suddenly back in each other’s orbit—two lonely souls with a crumbling house to sell and a tangled history to unravel. Bitingly funny and quietly explosive, Little Bear Ridge Road is a sharply etched portrait of two people reaching across emotional galaxies—searching for meaning and fumbling toward connection, even as they fear it might swallow them whole. In this piercing and profound new play, the void is vast, the stars are indifferent, and love—messy, human, and hard-won—might be the only thing tethering us to Earth.
Mr. Hunter’s writing has a clarity, delicacy and crisp simplicity that allows us to watch as Sarah and Ethan negotiate the minefields of their relationship, drawing comfort from one another’s company even though both would be loath to admit it. Under the astutely unfussy direction of Joe Mantello, Ms. Metcalf’s remarkably fine performance is flinty, funny and savagely unsentimental. And Mr. Stock’s Micah is sensitive to the point of seeming to squirm inside a constricted, wounded soul.
This isn’t conveyed sentimentally, but gently. And it is there right in front of us, in scenes—sprouting from James’ professional pursuit—that major on the composition and meanings of space and the universe. Observe the set itself: the black background, clunkily big couch, and the crucible of carpet containing the play’s frustrating, frustrated, yet winning characters. This imagined room, this stage, is its own modest planet, everyday and also otherworldly, spinning away from us but also right there: fixed, meaningful, and shining bright.
| 2025 | Broadway |
Broadway |
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