“People suck. Only food is real,” rails Harry, the temperamental genius chef, in Theresa Rebeck’s riotous comedy Seared at MCC Theater. Harry is engaged in one of many contentious debates on the purity of his gastronomic art over commercial viability with the more practical Mike, his partner in a small restaurant in trendy Park Slope, Brooklyn. He’s stating his essential dilemma: life would be perfect if he didn’t have to deal with his fellow man and could just be left alone to cook.
Seared is one of the better plays by the prolific Rebeck. The central conflict of a great but difficult artist against the realities of business is scarcely fresh, but her zesty dialogue and spot-on characterization gives a tasty tang to a familiar dish.
Brilliantly played by an intensely driven Raul Esparza in Moritz Von Stuelpnagel’s rapid-fire staging, Harry is a fascinating protagonist—charismatic, obnoxious, eloquent, and infuriating. He finds fulfillment in preparing exquisite meals but cannot deal with anyone interfering with his kitchen (designed with incredibly specific detail by Tim Mackabee), not even Mike who has invested all his money in their joint enterprise. Their place is tiny, seating only 12 with just one waiter, the even-tempered Rodney, one of the few people whose opinion Harry respects, because Rodney has no agenda for amassing money.
When the struggling eatery receives a glowing mention in New York Magazine for Harry’s signature scallops, he refuses to cook them again. To save his investment which is about to go under, Mike brings in stylish consultant Amy to parlay the publicity into profits. Amy and Mike’s attempts to get Harry to compromise his purist vision and just cook the goddamned scallops form the arc of the plot, but it’s the edgy, quicksilver acting and Von Stuelpnagel’s precise staging that make Seared sizzle.
Esparza delivers the flashiest performance since Harry is the flashiest character. The versatile, Tony-nominated actor gets to have multiple hissy fits and, in one virtuoso silent scene, cooks an actual meal flawlessly, giving each step of the recipe the right subtextual ingredients. David Mason beautifully bottles up Mike’s simmering rage and frustration, then lets it boil over to perfection. Krysta Rodriguez effectively glazes over Emily’s killer instinct with syrupy sweetness, and W. Tre Davis whips up Rodney’s unexpected steely determination to save the restaurant when the service is about to become a disaster. This is a fantastic four-course meal.
