Anglophiles with a fetish for bookish Cambridge students politely arguing about literature and life may get a kick out of “The Common Pursuit.” Others may find themselves looking at their watches, wishing for some good ol’ American theatrics.
Simon Gray is best known in America for 1971’s “Butley,” which was revived on Broadway a few years ago, with Nathan Lane as the titular self-destructive teacher.
“The Common Pursuit,” from 1984, takes place in a similar setting. Set over two decades, this serious-minded comedy follows friends from Cambridge University as they argue over art and love, and segue from idealism to realism — or not.
The title refers to the students’ literary magazine, led by uncompromising editor Stuart (Josh Cooke). Also on the staff are the dissolute writer Nick (Lucas Near-Verbrugghe), the womanizing, Indiana Jones-like historian Peter (Kieran Campion) and the cerebral, distant poet/philosopher Humphry (Tim McGeever).
Taking care of the business side is Martin (Jacob Fishel), a nerdy type overshadowed by his peers, who are more in touch with both their brains and their bodies.
“Sometimes I think I’m missing out on addiction,” Martin says with regret. “I’m normal all the time, which is very boring.”
As the years go by, we see how the young men fare away from the college bubble. Turns out, real life doesn’t change them much; it just accentuates what was already there.
And so Stuart looks down on Nick for prostituting his talent at Vogue magazine. Peter remains a horndog, and between affairs he cranks out pseudo-scholarly books for a general audience. Humphry, secretive as ever, hides his self-loathing behind acidic wit.
Throughout, it’s not always clear where Gray’s sympathies lie, which actually makes the play more interesting. Are we meant, perhaps, to admire Stuart’s inflexibility?
This ambivalence seems to stump director Moisés Kaufman (“Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo,” “I Am My Own Wife”). He certainly seems more comfortable with the show’s somber side than with its comedic one. At least Near-Verbrugghe and McGeever make the most of the humor — the first clownishly extroverted, like a posh Austin Powers, the second elegantly dry.
The one without any bon mots to milk is Kristen Bush in the underwritten role of Marigold, Stuart’s wife. The fact that Marigold’s applying for a headmistress job is dispatched in 30 seconds; meanwhile, we’re treated to an extensive discussion of Peter’s latest hack job.
For Gray, ideas and lofty goals are primarily a male concern, while women wait in the wings. You wonder why he bothered writing in Marigold at all, especially considering that Peter’s wife, “ghastly Erika,” remains unseen even though she comes up a lot in conversation.
But then, this is the kind of play where a lot comes up in conversation. Guess Gray and his lit types missed the class about show, don’t tell.