Eureka Day by Jonathon Spector
Manhattan Theatre Club at The Samuel J. Friedman Theatre. I watched on 12/21.
A little background before I begin: Eureka Day is a dramatic stage play written by American playwright Jonathan Spector, set during a private school's parent board of directors meeting in Berkeley, California, when a mumps outbreak occurs. The group is forced to tackle the school’s vaccination policy. Spector is a new playwright on my radar, but other works of his include This Much I Know, Birthright, Best Available, and more. This particular play premiered in 2018 at the Aurora Theatre Company, had an off-Broadway stint in 2019, and is now making its Broadway debut this season, directed by Tony Award-winning director Anna D. Shapiro (also a directing teacher at Northwestern University—so, Go Cats!). I will say that I was shocked to read that this play premiered almost five years ago, because it feels so timely and relevant now.
Overall, I give the play a 4/5 and highly recommend it. I knocked off a point because, at its core, it really is about five people arguing, and it lacks action. As you’ll continue to learn about me, this is also my biggest weakness as a writer, so no judgment here. But there are a few clever things Spector does to activate the scenes. This play is a debate between anti-vaxxers and pro-vaccine parents set at a private school focused on social justice. I love the commentary this play gives on wokeness and the radicalization of people, which feels especially prevalent today in a post-pandemic, post-2020 society. I would place this play in the same genre as Larissa FastHorse’s The Thanksgiving Play, as both explore the question of whether we’ve gone too far in one direction, to the point where we’ve become offensive—or, as I call it, the "shoehorn theory."
One of the great things about this play is the characterization—how each character is distinct and has their own point of view. Many beginning playwrights, myself included, struggle with how to make characters sound different and have opposing points of view that work with each other. The emphasis is on opposition because, without conflict, you don’t have a play. Granted, this play is about vaccination and personal choice, but Spector does a great job of painting a sliding scale of perspectives. You have Carina (played by Amber Gray), the new mom to the board who is very pro-vaccine, didn’t think twice about it, and doesn’t see the problem with vaccinations. On the opposite end is Suzanne (played by Jessica Hecht), the president of the board, who has been at this school for a long time and is staunchly anti-vaccine. You can tell she’s not going to change her mind anytime soon, which is important, and I’ll come back to that later. Then, in the middle, you have Eli, a rich stay-at-home dad who did delayed vaccinations, and Meiko, a new single mother who chose not to vaccinate her kids based on things she read but admits she wasn’t fully informed—she just wanted to do what’s right for her family. And then there’s the mediator, Don, the principal or founder of the school.
What I find Spector did masterfully—and something I would take into my own writing or recommend to others—is that the events of the story don’t happen directly to the two characters who are staunch in their viewpoints, Suzanne and Carina, but instead happen to those who are somewhere in between, those with malleable viewpoints. This allows the play to explore what is necessary to create change. Because while you go to see theater to witness change, sometimes that change can undermine the core values of a character. Or if change happens too easily, it can feel inauthentic. Especially in a play that is essentially a debate, you don’t want the audience to immediately sense what side you, as the writer, believe is correct. So, the events of the story revolve around Eli and Meiko, who themselves have a complicated relationship, adding layers to the dynamics. Eli, in an open marriage, is romantically involved with Meiko. They have a playdate with their children before news of the mumps outbreak goes public. Meiko’s unvaccinated daughter contracts the disease and unintentionally infects Eli’s son, Tobias, who has had the vaccine but is part of that 12% (don’t fact-check me) of children for whom the vaccine doesn’t work. Tobias ends up hospitalized. The guilt and hardship of these events really swing the pendulum between Eli and Meiko and where they stand on vaccinations. I thought it was really well done.
Another thing this play does really well is the use of multimedia, especially in the school conference scene. They project a Zoom chat box as the teacher board discusses quarantining and the potential for school reopening. I think this specific scene was really smart for two reasons. First, it helped establish that this is a more complicated issue. Obviously, you go into the show with your own thoughts on vaccination, and living in NYC (which I assume, though I could be wrong) likely means a large percentage of the population is pro-vaccination. It can be difficult to stay invested in a play if you find the opposing argument unrealistic or nonsensical. Having a Zoom chat box that represents other people's points of view humanizes the issue. You see that there are many different opinions, and you feel that both sides have weight—not that one is better or stronger, but that people genuinely believe what they’re saying. If I were on the opposite side of the debate, I might have felt seen, uplifted, and more bought into the play. Second, the use of escalation and callbacks kept you on your toes. The situation becomes almost farcical—everything that could go wrong does, and the characters lose control of the parents’ comments.
Another very smart choice Spector made from the beginning was establishing that this particular board was a consensus board, meaning that everyone had to agree before making a decision. (Shout out to Wave and their 14-hour deliberations!) When writing a play, I often find that the number one thing that can undermine it is when a plausible path to solve the problem is not taken. In this case, if it hadn’t been a consensus board, why wouldn’t they just take a majority vote to open the school? If they had the votes, why do they keep arguing in circles? That’s why the consensus board structure plays a large role in framing this play. But an even smarter choice Spector made is knowing when to break the rules he set up and when to end the piece. These two skills are incredibly difficult for beginner writers, and I would caution against doing this unless it’s done exceptionally well. But in this case, you’ve just had the final argument, and Suzanne has stood on her soapbox, declaring that this is a hill worth dying on, which aligns with her character. But you’ve also seen Meiko, after everything that’s happened with Eli and his son, shift her stance. The change you’ve been waiting for has happened. So, Don states that while the bylaws state they are a consensus board, they don’t need a consensus vote to change the bylaws. Suddenly, the solution to the problem has been found.
Finally, the great use of cyclical structure, where the first scene mirrors the last, is brilliant. The first scene sets up that one seat on the board is always reserved for a new parent—Carina in the first scene and the new parent Winter in the last scene, after Suzanne is presumably ousted.
My final thoughts: I thought this play was incredibly poignant to our times, and the language and handling of information really struck me. I left wondering what the reception of this play would be like in Florida (my homeland), Texas, or other Republican strongholds. It made me reflect on how polarizing people have become and how the news and information they use to support their claims also made me think about the role of fake news and how social media has turned information into something personalized for you. Science or fact no longer seems important to many people when making choices. It’s not just a commentary on “wokeness,” but also on radicalization. I thought it was smart that in this new version, the play still focused on the mumps outbreak and didn’t bring up COVID. I still think it’s too soon for a COVID play, but the subtle nod to how they hoped the 2019-2020 school year would be better felt just right. It was probably a line from the original 2018 version, but it really resonates in 2024.
If you have the chance, I highly recommend seeing Eureka Day at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre, now playing through February 2, 2025.