Romantic Comedy is Back With TABLE 17

If romantic comedies are a dying breed in movie theaters, within the American theater they can feel fully extinct. Prior to last season’s short-lived musical comedy The Heart of Rock & Roll, one is hard-pressed to find a more recent example than First Date, a paper-thin Broadway attempt from 2013. That summer saw both First Date and the (criminally underrated) off-Broadway entry Nobody Loves You land with a thud, a one-two punch which may have scared producers off the genre for years.

Perhaps rom-coms are just not a natural fit for the stage. The effortful, expensive experience of attending the theater puts pressure on artists to provide a full meal: spectacle, dramatic heft, a timely dose of “Why now?” Yet for a great rom-com, less is usually more. High concepts or big ideas can only serve to dilute the emotions at the core of a well done romance. 

Playwright Douglas Lyons attempts to split the difference with Table 17, an intimate, low-concept piece which mostly keeps it straightforward, save for a few theatrical flourishes and a late attempt at profundity. It’s a good time, and Lyons injects a welcome dose of Black joy into a familiar structure. Ultimately, though, he lacks the wit to entirely pull it off. 

Dallas (Biko Eisen-Martin) has asked his ex-finance Jada (Tony Award winner Kara Young) out to dinner. Two years prior, following a seven year relationship, the pair endured an ugly break-up. As the dinner stretches on, interwoven with moments from the couple’s past, it becomes clear that neither Dallas nor Jada have truly moved on.  

Frustratingly, the play can’t keep its focus on that central dinner date. When Lyons stays at that table, letting us sit in Dallas and Jada’s tense, affectionate interplay, we do start to get a feel for these people.

But Lyons’ text is jumpy, lurching into flashbacks that don’t always feel necessary. We see the night of Dallas’ proposal, a funny scene that provides little insight. A monologue from Dallas about missing his “blindspot” while driving lays out subtext a bit too baldly. And a good chunk of Jada’s flashbacks just exist to flesh out Eric, a rival for her affections. 

Young is luminous as always. Her work as Jada is bitingly funny but always grounded in truth, capturing a smart, confident woman undercut by dogged insecurities (which madden her more than they do anyone else). Few could compete with Young’s dynamism on stage, but Eisen-Martin more than holds his own as the likable Dallas, a soft soul caught between tender-heartedness and the societally-forced role of rock-solid provider. 

Zhailon Levingston’s production keeps things moving, if not always smoothly. The transitions feel awkward, with actors distractingly maneuvering set pieces and struggling with props. Jason Sherwood’s set, aiming for sleek, is oddly cheap-looking, making it hard to gauge whether this restaurant is faux-fancy or actual-fancy. Levingston does excel at naturally propping open the show’s fourth-wall, inviting hearty audience reactions (when Dallas fucks up, we will let him know) without letting those moments destabilize the show.  

When the turn into profundity comes along, the show’s very excellent supporting player Michael Rishawn nearly sells it. Riotously funny throughout the evening as the pair’s saucy waiter River (and several other characters), Rishawn takes over to opine, movingly, on the deep-rooted connection which Dallas and Jada cannot escape. Is this a thing of beauty, a lifelong love? Or something closer to toxic codependency? 

River’s final words are stirring—but not because of the couple we’ve just spent 90 minutes with, whose dynamic never fully come into focus. It works for the same reason that rom-coms will never truly die: these are universal truths, familiar to anyone in the room who has ever sought a love of their own. That’s why we keep seeking out these stories, whether good, bad or average. Table 17 is only an average entry, but one that left me pining for more rom-coms on our stages all the same. 

Table 17 is now in performance at MCC Theater through September 29, 2024. For tickets and more information, visit here.