In Annie Baker’s “The Flick,” which takes place in the run-down movie theater of the same name, two employees start arguing as they sweep the aisles. Avery declares that there hasn’t been a great American movie since 1994’s “Pulp Fiction” — and ridicules Sam for suggesting “Avatar.” Sam counters with “Rushmore” and “Fargo.”
But Avery (Aaron Clifton Moten), a hard-core cinephile weaned on the Criterion Collection, doesn’t budge. “Those are all pretty good movies,” he says. “Those are interesting movies. But those are not like like like like . . . profound commentaries.”
Avery might as well be talking about this wispy play. It’s good, sometimes very good, but it’s not even close to great.
Baker, who casts a sympathetic eye on maladjusted, often emotionally crippled underachievers, has forged a thriving career. Her breakout, 2009’s “Circle Mirror Transformation,” is now one of the most produced new plays in America. Last year, she scored a critical hit with her deadpan adaptation of “Uncle Vanya,” staged — like most of her shows, including this new one — by hot director Sam Gold (“Picnic,” “Seminar”).
With “The Flick,” Baker is working on her largest canvas yet. David Zinn’s set reconstitutes the movie theater’s auditorium, complete with nine rows of red seats and a projection booth; the audience sits where the screen would be. And at three hours, the show’s length is epic.
But this is no “Lawrence of Arabia.” The scenes are packed not with action but with Baker’s trademark willful pauses and stretches of more or less comfortable silence. There are just three main characters: Avery, his fellow sweeper/concession hawker/ticket seller Sam (Matthew Maher) and the grouchy projectionist, Rose (Louisa Krause), who hides behind dyed green hair and Doc Martens boots.
Large parts of the show focus on the latent rivalry between the two men. Sam has been at the Flick longer and is master of his very small domain — he’s in his mid-30s, and this is a real job for him. The laconic Avery, on the other hand, is just taking a year off from college, where his father teaches semiotics. Rose is a complication only one of them wants.
“The Flick” is as much about relationships as it is about the difficult transition into a not-so-rosy future — the last symbolized by the sale of the Flick and the switch from celluloid to digital, which horrifies Avery.
Baker renders the tedium of petty jobs and the filling of hours with deadpan accuracy, and she doesn’t shy from the painful impact of betrayal.
But you also wish she’d get out of her comfort zone and test herself against greatness. A failure may be more powerful than her current success.