Omnium Gatherum

Omnium-Gatherum

Running time: 1 hr, 30 min

How close do you feel to the end of the world? Probably not as close as you did on another day in September three years ago, when bodies rained from the sky, towers crumbled, and a city was swallowed in clouds of smoke and ash. That was a moment of such devastation and horror that there seemed something terrifyingly final about it. And yet now, for most of us, the dread of that day has receded, despite the shadow of it hanging on us still, in the reports of commissions investigating what happened that day, in the wars being waged in response to the attacks, in the repeated warnings at home and abroad that more attacks are coming. We go on with our lives, acknowledging the pain of September 11, its impact on us, but from a distance.

The seven people around the elegant dinner table in Omnium-Gatherum appear to be that way. As they move from course to fabulous course served up in high style by their hostess Suzie (whose command of all things domestic clearly has been cut from the Martha Stewart pattern), they talk about 9/11, and, though the day is still fresh to them, no one is shaken by it. They discuss it just as they do feminism, globalism, American cultural imperialism, and other pressing issues of the day: with intellectual vigor and flashes of rhetorical fire but little of the strong personal emotion that reveals one to be deeply affected by a matter.

Roger, the bestselling spy novelist – Tom Clancy on a testosterone bender – argues for a might-makes-right, my-way-or-the-highway approach to international affairs, predictably sparking outrage in his opposite number, Lydia, the militantly vegan feminist. Wading into the fray to say give peace a chance are Khalid, the Middle Eastern scholar with a strong humanist streak, and Julia, the African-American author with a spiritual bent. Meanwhile, Terence, the arch British journalist – a Christopher Hitchens stand-in, with tongue nicely silvered – offers equal-opportunity provocation, his contrarian attitude outstripped only by his unslakable thirst for red wine.

Yes, playwrights Theresa Rebeck and Alexandra Gersten-Vassilaros have stacked the deck – or loaded the table – with rather obvious sociopolitical types of opposing views, the better to make the fur fly onstage. But these types also represent a microcosm of political thought today and the polarization we see in so much of it. While the debates here rarely go beyond the point-counterpoint of the talking heads on Sunday morning, they're still incredibly stimulating, in part because of the medium – the live-ness of theatre – in part because they're presented by lively, smartly sketched characters.

Of course, it helps if they're vividly animated, which they are in this Zachary Scott Theatre Center production. Harvey Guion is pitch-perfect with Roger's bulldog bark. His blunt jabs at Lydia are deftly parried by Helen Merino with withering sarcasm, offhandedly dropped, like a napkin from her lap. Carla Nickerson sets up Julia as the picture of composure and compassion, then blindsides us with an off-key rendition of "Greatest Love of AllÓ that's a comic tour de force. Whether sparring himself or rendering a smug judgment on others' battles, Erik Parillo's Terence delivers every remark with a flourish. Presiding over them all is Janelle Buchanan's Suzie, convivial, chatty, and shallow as a finger bowl. Buchanan gets terrific comic mileage from Suzie, especially when her pleasant veneer cracks to reveal the seething rage bubbling beneath.

But just when you're accustomed to the show's battle of wits among the badly behaved, everything changes. The cerebral distance disintegrates in a flash of primal emotion. What happens is best discovered through the play, but suffice it to say the characters are forced to confront 9/11 again in a very immediate way. It's a visceral moment that wouldn't have the impact it does on a movie or television screen. It is the presence we feel in the room with us, a presence that we cannot escape, that churns up raw feelings and questions about that day and its aftermath that we have left too long unanswered.

From there, we see how September 11 has pierced the hearts of these characters. Jeff, a New York City firefighter whose presence at this elite dinner has seemed incongruous up to now, discloses the full measure of the sacrifice he made that day, and the humility and sorrow in Brian Coughlin's performance is moving. Khalid makes a plea for love, and the purity of passion in Fajer Al-Kaisi is affecting. And without the sharp work of actor Tej Paranjpe, the production would not be as gripping as it is. Director Dave Steakley negotiates the show's radically different tones and sensitive subject with great skill, leading us from theatre that is captivating around a hairpin turn to theatre that is compelling.

Though this play might seem to be about the past, Omnium-Gatherum is truly about the present and the future, asking us the hard questions about the direction we choose to take after September 11. Have you lost touch with the dread you knew that day? Have you lost faith in peace? What will you be doing at the end of the world?