It’s tempting to think of “Title and Deed” as an elaborate prank played on a helpless audience.
This new piece by Will Eno — the critically acclaimed author of “Thom Pain (based on nothing)” and “Middletown” — consists of a monologue by an unnamed traveler (Conor Lovett) who’s just arrived from an unnamed country. He spends 75 minutes ruminating about this and that, and this again. Or is it that?
“I’m not from here,” are the first words out of the man’s mouth. He then proceeds to ramble through a series of non sequiturs and observations as meek as they are vague.
We do learn a few details about his native land: “It’s just a little thing, my country, down by the sea, roughly, seasonal enough, a small population, the chief exports sarcasm and uric acid.”
Under the direction of his wife, Judy Hegarty Lovett, the unassuming actor sticks to a hesitant demeanor befitting his shabby-librarian appearance. It’s a perfect fit for Eno’s humor, which is dry bordering on arid. But here, deadpan becomes the end instead of the means. And that doesn’t take us very far.
So Eno tries to make it look as if there’s something profound underneath it all.
“I imagine myself striking out into the world,” our visitor says in a typically wise/absurd quip, “one foot in the grave, the other in my mouth, and how’s anyone supposed to walk like that?”
The playwright may aim for Beckettian existentialism, but “Title and Deed” feels more like a torturous, high-concept stand-up act.
“Electricity,” the man says out of the blue. “Let’s talk about that. It varies. Different regions, different plugs and voltages. Let’s not talk about that. Let’s try to stick to the things that don’t vary. But what doesn’t vary?”
This is Jerry Seinfeld in hell.
“I don’t sense much joy around here, with all of you,” our narrator observes.
Accurate enough, and it may have something to do with the fact that he’s boring us senseless with asinine, pseudo-deep prattle. Just an educated guess.