Review: Still, When She Accidentally Sleeps With a Republican

Should you be required to disclose your politics before engaging in sexual intercourse? A recent survey found that the vast majority of respondents are dating people who vote the same way they do (or so they think), with 60 percent saying that having the wrong politics is a relationship dealbreaker. Some dating apps even allow users to sort by political affiliation, so one needn’t waste time encountering the narcissism of small differences on the first date. But not every date is arranged via Bumble.

“I wish you’d told me that before we…,” says Helen (Jayne Atkinson), having just discovered that Mark (Tim Daly) is not only a Republican, but is planning to run for Congress.

He incredulously retorts, “Do you only go to bed with liberals?” Obviously not — but if she had only known. This is not their first date, but it is the first time they’ve slept together in over 30 years. And people change.

Their reunion is depicted in Lia Romero’s Still, now making its New York premiere with Colt Coeur at the DR2 Theatre. Sleekly produced and well-acted, it nevertheless leaves us with blue balls as the dramatic tumescence the actors work so hard to build deflates without reaching a satisfying climax.

Helen and Mark were in a serious relationship back in the early ’90s. But that ended and their paths diverged: She became a single author, he a corporate lawyer married with kids. But now he’s divorced and looking to rekindle the old flame. He invites her to drinks at a hotel bar, and they later adjourn upstairs. Only in the postcoital glow do we learn about their differences of opinion and the abortion that signaled the end of their initial relationship.

“You don’t get to have feelings about it,” she chides. “But I do,” he responds in the most illuminating exchange of this 75-minute two-hander. The manners that have been so zealously embraced by the Left can regulate speech and behavior, but they can never really govern feelings — a fact that, I suspect, is the root of so much of our current national divide.

Romero’s script teems with intrigue: Helen suspects that Mark has reached out only to try to bury the story of a decades-old abortion that could torpedo electoral chances (somewhat unlikely in the age of Trump, but maybe he’s the only one made of Teflon). Mark suspects Helen is just gathering information for a forthcoming book on the subject. Neither is completely right, nor completely wrong — which would be a fine assumption for us all to make when engaging politically with our fellow Americans.

Unfortunately, Romero never really explores the motivational buoys she so painstakingly places in the water, and her characters swim back to shore before they get too deep. Nor do we get very far in determining the ways their views diverge, and if their differences are really as irreconcilable as Helen seems to think they are. I couldn’t help but suspect they had more to say to each other by the time the curtain fell.

This may have something to do with the layered and specific performances. Atkinson has a Mona Lisa grin that suggests a lifetime of stories, while Daly presents an attractively boyish optimism in a lawyer-daddy shell. If Congress doesn’t work out, Mark would be a great candidate for the next edition of The Golden Bachelor. Their chemistry is undeniable, and it seems clear they could do much more.

Adrienne Campbell-Holt directs them in these sensitive, fleshy performances — the secret sauce that keeps us coming back to Colt Coeur. The production is also high quality, with professional class chic costumes by Barbara A. Bell, light jazz piano underscoring in the bar scene from sound designer Hidenori Nakajo, and flattering lighting by Reza Behjat — perfect for getting the Boomers in the mood.

Alexander Woodward’s set is the most opulent element, beginning as a bougie hotel bar before rotating to reveal a generically tasteful hotel room. This transition on the tiny stage of the DR2 is impressive, provided the wall doesn’t collide with the actors, as it did the night I attended.

Still asks if the unexplainable phenomenon of love is enough to overcome other profound differences — especially when people have options. Technology has facilitated a huge expansion of the dating market: No longer are we limited to co-workers and family friends. Online dating means that the sea of potential fish is as vast as humanity, offering the illusion (or perhaps delusion) that there is always a more perfect partner just a swipe away. In that respect, Still is a work of high realism — even if it is not a particularly compelling drama.