Breaking with tradition, Erik Blake has brought his Pennsylvania family to celebrate Thanksgiving at his daughter's apartment in lower Manhattan. Unfolding over a single scene, this "delirious tragicomedy" (Chicago Sun-Times) by acclaimed young playwright Stephen Karam "infuses the traditional kitchen-sink family drama with qualities of horror in his portentous and penetrating work of psychological unease" (Variety), creating an indelible family portrait.
Stephen Karam is the author of Sons of the Prophet, a finalist for the 2012 Pulitzer Prize and the recipient of the 2012 Drama Critics Circle, Outer Critics Circle, Lucille Lortel and Hull-Warriner Awards for Best Play. His other play is Speech & Debate, the inaugural production of Roundabout Underground; columbinus (New York Theatre Workshop). He wrote the libretto for Dark Sisters, an original chamber opera with composer Nico Muhly (co-produced by Gotham Chamber Opera, MTG and Opera Company of Philadelphia).
I read Stephen Karam's brilliant "The Humans" in one sitting. It's a play which was commissioned by the Roundabout Theatre Company in New York, was a finalist for the 2016 Pulitzer Prize for Drama and won the 2016 Tony Award for Best Play (I watched some fragments of the play on youtube and thought acting was actually pretty awful so maybe the competition wasn't so fierce). It's a chamber American family drama taking place on a Thanksgiving evening. And it is American to the core. The way family members (elderly parents, suffering from dementia grandmother, two adult daughters and a boyfriend of one of them) talk to each other, the topics they discuss or try not to discuss - money, healthcare cost, property, religion, depression, marriage, relationships - everything just oozes Americanness. There is this provincial naivety (the mother volunteers to help Bhutanese refugees in her small town and is shocked by their poverty), some religious preaching from the father, constant worries about money (it's the country where people are burdened with student loans, cannot rely on pensions and where the cost of medical treatment can literally make you go bankrupt if you lose your job and medical insurance attached to it) and the obsession with marriage, climbing up the career ladder and fixation on the cost of land and property. The nature of the climax just at the end is also so American it almost sounds like a cliché. At one point someone makes a statement that we humans are so afraid of monsters but monsters would probably find us, humans, a very alien species. Many reviewers pointed out how blisteringly funny this play is. I didn't find it funny at all. It is great but so depressingly sad it makes one want to slit their wrists. So much human mediocrity sometimes almost makes me suicidal.
tony award for best play 2016, pulitzer prize finalist 2016. stephen karam’s thanksgiving reunion of the blake family in brigid (the 26 year old - younger - daughter) and richard’s new appartement in chinatown nyc (ground-floor and basement) is an excellently observed analyses of family dynamics under the strain of economic and health problems. everybody (the parents, aimee - the older sister, brigid herself) has problems, to say nothing about grandmother momo, also present, in an advanced state of dementia. there are beautiful moments, sad moments, funny moments. interesting ideea of a split-level set, where characters stand at the top of the spiral stairs, listening in on conversations about themselves.
4.5 // Read this little thing today. I’m an only child and I tend to gravitate toward books about families; especially drawn to sibling dynamics/relationships. So this play worked for me, ticked those boxes. It’s not a spectacular story but it’s wonderfully character-driven with realistic dialogue. Funny, charming, tense. The last few pages were absolutely striking through, heart-pounding imagery and unnerving. Would love to see that unfold on the stage. Now I’m off in search for the 2021 film on streaming services.
In the essays attached to the TCG edition of The America Play, Suzan-Lori Parks writes that, if you write a play, you should know the reason /why/ you're writing a play. In Stephen Karam's play The Humans, that's a question that's never addressed. I suspect Karam wants this to be a film, and that the entire theatrical existence of The Humans is nothing more than a dry-run for a cinema version.
The whole experience of reading the play was tiring. The characters come across as thinly-developed and ultimately trivial: as a reader/viewer, I just don't care what happens to these people. Their weathering of life is ultimately inconsequential; for me, none of them has enough dignity or matter to them to stand in for John Q. American or Jane Everywoman.
The dialogue is praised on the back cover for being gloriously realistic, but a good third of the play is simply characters talking over each other. Karam is so incredibly controlling of this dialogue that he insists in marking exactly who says what over whom, and this really reveals how much he trusts -- or rather, does not trust at all -- the actors and directors to do their job and figure that out on their own. At other places, he feels compelled to tell potential directors how, where and when they should be grouped onstage, which is as much an act of unfaith. but also takes moments that could be subtle and blows them into searing melodrama. Even the "unsettling horror moments" -- just a few seconds at the tail end of the show -- are hoary with age and subtle as a trainwreck.
What's really frightening about the play is the awards it has won. Apparently, the bar of success for new American plays is terrifyingly low, if this play can walk away with Tony and Pulitzers.
I love reading plays, perhaps as much as seeing them, even though they are meant, above all else, to be seen. Reading a great one is like reading a great long story or short novel; you can do so in one or two sittings. And the prose in some plays, like STREETCAR and GLENGARRY GLEN ROSS, is as dazzling as the best prose you'll read in stories and novels. All of this is prelude to my saying that I'm almost certain that I would enjoy seeing THE HUMANS more than I enjoyed reading it. This has less to do with the writing, which is excellent, and more with the two "sets" in one -- upstairs and downstairs -- and the almost constant overlapping dialogue. All of this, which fits perfectly with this particular play, would work better on -- and, of course, is meant for -- the stage. One observation about THE HUMANS: it strikes me as rare that this play, rather than ratcheting up almost every moment of tension into a full-out clash with yelling and anger and tears (this happens effectively and appropriately in plays I love such as WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? and LONG DAY'S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT), suppresses bubbling tension with humor or other distractions (often auditory), and you get the sense of deeply flawed and sad people who actually love each other, rather than people whose hatred for each other is now coming to a boil. It has become a cliché to say that a work of art speaks to the way we live now, but in this case it's true: this is a deeply American play (a white, middle-class American play, to be specific) that accurately reflects the current moment.
What this should've won was the Tony for hwhitest hwhite people problems. This is a play about a family helping their youngest daughter gentrify New York Chinatown while the entire sanctity of family togetherness (as symbolized by it being Thanksgiving dinner time) falls under the blooming threat of not being able to get a non-waitress job as a music school graduate, a grandma's worsening dementia, a sister's lesbian breakup and subsequent diarrhea, and (spoilers!) parental infidelity that changes absolutely nothing in no one. All while they—oh no!—live next door to Chinese families who happen to get loud at the same time a lightbulb goes out so it gets dark and creepy. Which prompts the characters to wax bloatedly about the imperfect loneliness of their lives. That's what does them in. Set and sound design. Also the daughter's very regular guy boyfriend gets fake deep about a comic book that said aliens call us "the humans" the way we call them "the aliens" and doesn't that just make you think? And that's it. That's the whole play. The daughter even teases him for liking comic books because that's still something people do.
At best this work is a two-act fourth understudy for August: Osage County. Go read that instead and never look back.
This was a big disappointment. Granted I didn't watch the play/movie but read it. But still, there was nothing new in terms of the ideas. if anything, its too late to be a ground breaker(published in 2015). The premise is that a family has a reunion for thanksgiving. Each of them has life problem/s, and when that comes up as a topic, predictably creates family fights. The problem is that, it doesn't feel organic. It seems the author took the political talking points of the day and sprinkled them on this family. One has housing problem and student debt. Another has a health problem and being fired for it and is also a lesbian and going through a breakup. Yet another has depression and some unearned wealth. On top of this, the author seems to be trying to micromanage how the characters interact, with each gesture of each character ordered by time. So even reading wasn't all that pleasant. And there's a lame dialogue about some comic where humans are the monsters. Which was probably an attempt to give it some depth. had read somewhere, that the dialogues are funny, but I didnt find it so. All in all, could have totally skipped. One great thing is that, since its a play, its really short
The writing is outstanding Stephen Karam's gifts are obvious but with all the overlapping dialogue it becomes abundantly clear that this thing is built for the stage. I mean, what play isn't? But still, some read a little better than others. Even a quality audio recording of a staged reading would do. Anything to bring Karam's brilliant, almost hyper-realistic, living and breathing dialogue to life. Fortunately, the richness of the characters comes through, as does the humor.
Even on a 2nd read (prompted by the impending film adaptation), I must admit I really don't get this play -it MUST play a lot better than it reads. It seems to just plod along, giving a naturalistic view of a somewhat typical American family Thanksgiving, with some minor revelations, a few chuckles, and Pinteresque existential dread, but all done in a very minor key. Maybe seeing the film will illuminate to me why it's gotten such raves.
Absolutely a phenomenal play--one of the best I have read in quite some time. Karam has an almost preternatural ability to capture the real rhythms of family dynamics and family conflicts without making it too theatrical-and then drops an immensely theatrical and deeply haunting ending. This opens on Broadway soon and would be worth checking out.
Three stars for the reading of it, but really this play needs to be SEEN in order to really appreciate it.
I saw it on stage and the actors were incredible! It brought the dull, sort-of predictable Thanksgiving dysfunctional family into a more brilliant display of keen awareness of how people talk to one another and how one instant can be "normal" only to sour into a dark, lonely end.
I grew up reading Tennessee Williams' plays, among others and those plays read just as good as seeing them, so Karam's plays definitely need to be seen rather than just read.
With that said, I will be reading more of his other plays as well as I think Karam has a keen eye on the way people talk and interact with one another.
“Don’tcha think it should cost less to be alive?” That line, which concludes the father's speech to his daughter's new live-in boyfriend, captures much of what this play is about. Karam gets at the financial stress that burdens the middle-class in this period of stagnation. Jobs and pensions lost, dead-end jobs stoically endured for decades, caring for an aging parent while still holding down full-time jobs, etc. Karam shows the interconnections between these economic woes and the social and psychological burdens the family members also face: allegiance to one's childhood faith, struggles with weight, chronic health issues, the fear of NYC after 9-11, recovering from depression, use of anti-depressants, class differences, the importance of marriage, etc. Karam wonderfully avoids hitting one over the head with any of these issues; instead, they are subtly (and often humorously) invoked during conversations. What Karam doesn't make a conflict is also significant; we see here a family that has no problem with their daughter's/sister's homosexuality. Instead, each is incredibly supportive (mom even brings up scissoring during dinner). Nor is the young woman's depression due to her sexuality; instead, Karam suggests it has to due with the intersection of her ulcerative colitis and her worries about finding a new partner for life.
Karam tackles these issues through comedy-drama instead of tragedy. This family supports one another, but they can also make some great jokes about each other. I haven't seen this on-stage yet, but Karam gives a good amount of text that is supposed to be conveyed non-verbally, and comedic actors and directors could do a lot with this. This comedy in the face of financial, social, and psychological burdens, along with the family members' support and lack of hate for one another, characterize this play. Other key characteristics include the set design (kind of a cross-section of the two floors and four rooms of this apartment, where action often occurs simultaneously) and the use of what Freud calls the uncanny (which Karam quotes as an epigram to the book). The use of the uncanny (think "hauntings") comes to a head at the very end of the play and is surprisingly nicely in tension with the incredible realism of the set (including the noises old apartments make) and the dialogue (characters often leave lines unfinished and interrupt each other).
I would highly recommend reading this play, and I can't wait to see it performed.
The Humans tells the story of the Blake family spending thanksgiving with their youngest daughter at her apartment in Chinatown. Deidre and Erik Blake, the parents, are very catholic people with big hearts and small wallets. Amy Blake, the oldest daughter, has had her life fall apart around her. Her Girlfriend just broke up with her, she just got removed from the partner track at the law firm she works at, and her Ulcerative Colitis is coming back. Brigid, the Youngest daughter is dating an older man, and yet she still doesn’t quite feel like a grownup. Momo, the grandmother is in the depths of dementia, and is prone to random Hurst’s of gibberish. Richard is Brigid’s boyfriend, and he is struggling to fit in with his girlfriend’s family. Each individual has struggles, and yet in this play they don’t define the character. This show is so well written, that you almost forget these aren’t real people in real life. The characters banter back and forth like a real family, and goof around the same way. The show effortlessly mixes real world problems and family squabbles.
I really liked this show. Usually I don’t like reading scripts for shows that I’m not in, but this was an exception. The way the script gives you an idea of the set through dialogue is amazing. There isn’t really a typical plot, it just shows an afternoon of a family together that could happen anywhere in the real world. It really allows the audience to connect with the characters and their situation.
I would recommend this book to any director or theatre nerd out there, to show them what a truly natural show should look like.
The Humans takes place in real time and is meant to be performed with no breaks in one act. A family gathers together for Thanksgiving and we get to witness their familial affections, offenses, and revelations unfold over the course of one evening. It is funny and searing and real. Excellent play.
A play that I did not fully comprehend until it was the final pages and the final beats just sprang themselves on me and swallowed me and I was absolutely breathless. This man can WRITE
I wanted to read this last summer because it was having its local premiere early this year and I wanted to know if I could play the one 30-something male. I never found a copy and auditions came and went (and I never even made it out to see the production) but I finally found a copy through Hoopla, so I decided to read it.
Now, I'm really wishing I'd seen the show—Stephen Karam's The Humans feels like the play they say, "Plays are meant to be seen, not read" about. I didn't know anything about the play before reading it other than it won the Tony a few years ago and it had a simple 2-floor/4-room floorplan. I wish I'd have known it was supposed to be a comedy before starting it because I had no idea.
The story takes place on Thanksgiving in the aforementioned NYC apartment, inhabited by Brigid & Richard. They're joined by Bridge's sister Aimee, their parents, Erik & Deirdre, and their grandmother, Momo. The play is written with a lot of overlapping dialogue and I had trouble remembering the names of the mother & two daughters, often making it difficult to follow the plot. Plus, a lot of the funny lines are only funny when delivered a certain way (and my mind was not reading them in a way to add much humor).
I guess this'll teach me to just go out and watch more shows!
I don’t doubt it plays well to an audience, but it is a chore to read with all the overlapping dialogue and conversations and directions. I’m not sure the ending gave me what I needed, but the visuals might have if I was watching it on stage. I'm not convinced this anything but a domestic melodrama that I have seen played out many times before. It follows the formula of other 21st Century Pulitzer drama winners with its hyper-realistic dialogue and dysfunctional family units on the verge of imploding.
I love this play. It perfectly captures the dynamics of the Blake family and all the nuances between characters. So much can be gleaned about a person just from the way they respond or react to something that is said or done. Moments when characters were eavesdropping on conversations without being noticed felt so real… There were moments of cruelty and heartbreak but it was all fused with love. Everyone in this play is so clearly just trying to find their place in the world and doing their best with the hand they’ve been dealt.
The underlying sense of unease that permeates The Humans is probably my favourite thing about it. Karam just so effortlessly ties in these elements of horror that don’t at all feel gimmicky or forced. I still remember seeing it for the first time off-broadway in 2015 and being amazed at every aspect of the production.
I found this slow, purposely mired in the mundane and surprisingly too relatable. It's like a visit to all the cold-war simmering tension of unspoken family problems for way too long. But, there's a pay-off and some suprise in the back third where the play feels strongest.
Stunning in a way that gets stuck in your throat and refuses to come out as anything other than something twisted and writhing. I read the whole thing in a single sitting, but it is clear that reading the text is only worth a quarter of what this play has to offer. The dialogue is so real and uncomfortable that you almost feel like you are trying to get a word in with a family that has already established their rapport.
Hit surprisingly close to home for me, and, as someone who generally detaches from fiction, I am not sure I enjoy feeling this vulnerable or exposed. Karam did not want me to feel comfortable, though, by writing this, so I would say he does the job well.
Four stars instead of five because I truly believe reading this text vs. listening to or watching it actively takes away from the experience, spoken as someone who has not seen this play live.
This is the kind of theater piece that deserves a discussion after seeing. I did not understand the ending and perhaps needed to witness the theatrics, as plays are meant to be seen more than read.
Tudo muito estranho lá na América do Norte. Drama familiar sem interesse pela histeria, mais próximo do horror que é viver num prédio outrora chique, hoje meio arruinado.