Summary
Written as a meta-theatrical vehicle for its title actor, this solo play features David Greenspan performing the roles of four millennial female playwrights, including a fictionalized version of the author herself, who gather in a Brooklyn apartment for a script reading of a new play.
Wednesday, April 23, 2025 Apr 23, 2025
A couple of weeks ago, I was on the train home when I happened to eavesdrop on a couple of actors discussing the scourge of amateur critics on the internet - people with no legitimate insight into the creative process who nevertheless make big-headed public judgments about theater productions, and in doing so, tangibly affect their success. Here, “success” refers to the ability to find an audience and make enough money to run for a long time.
On some level, we all know this is a little bit idealistic. Audiences have to decide what to see somehow, and I would rather consult the opinions of other theatergoers than just rely on ad copy. But I thought to myself, as someone who likes to write unqualified little reviews of what I see, “Hey, maybe they have a point.” I have no background in theater other than watching a lot of it, and when I don’t think a show “succeeds” - that is to say, I don’t find that the end result has artistic merit, or it just doesn’t resonate with me - it’s hard for me to precisely attribute it to the writer, the director, the actors, or any of the other talented folks who make these things happen. At the end of the day, I’m just a peanut in the gallery.
So I decided to buy some books about playwriting and I’m looking into introductory classes and workshops. I have a day job and I don’t plan to quit it, but I think it’ll be fun to get a little bit more exposure into how the sausage gets made, and I’d consider myself “successful” if I reflect on some of my life experiences, write something expressive that feels true to them, and show it to someone else.
“I’m Assuming You Know David Greenspan” is a frank and self-referential reflection on these same modes of success - self-expression, critical praise, and commercial viability - how they motivate people to work in theater, and how the industry exploits their passions. Three millennial women playwrights gather for dinner and a long argument about whether, when, and how to pivot to using their talents to make some money. One is starving, one is a sellout working in TV, and one is supported by her partner while she writes something totally esoteric. That last one, Mona, is a maybe-fictionalized stand-in for the real-life playwright, and she eviscerates herself for her work-in-progress play, a love letter written for and about her idol, David Greenspan.
Of course, we, the audience, have an extra little bit of information. We’re sitting here watching David himself, a celebrated actor & playwright who has achieved all of these kinds of success, act out the whole conversation as a one-man show. His starring in this is an ironic vindication for Mona, a knowing wink at the supposed insurmountability the characters face, and a unique little bit of lightning in a bottle that could only possibly work on stage. The dissonance of this one exact man playing these women makes for a really, really funny 80 minutes, and I can’t believe it works as well as it does.
Now, as you recall, I don’t have any insight here and I can’t tell you why it’s successful, but if I had to guess, I would say that it has something to do with a really sharp script by Mona, who mines the situation for humor without turning the women into gross caricatures, and a virtuosic performance by David, who (in addition to simply being here) allowed me to easily distinguish the individual characters and their opinions. They all make salient points, and they’re all too quick to write each other off, and they all get their feelings bruised by what amounts to a difference in values.
What these women have in common, however, and the reason they can have their feelings bruised at all, is that they’re all putting skin in the game. They’re on the same side of the essential asymmetry of the art form: some of us have to perform, and some of us have to decide to go to the show, and if people are missing from either side of the proscenium then the whole thing falls apart. It’ll never ever not be unfair to the artists, but some of them (maybe, soon, I can transcend my peanuthood and say some of us) will always have to look for satisfaction in another, less-preferred flavor of success. It’s the plight. We can’t all be David Greenspan, but I enthusiastically recommend watching him be all of us before this closes.