Threesome

At one point in Yussef El Guindi's brilliantly surprising play Threesome, Leila (Alia Attallah), author of a book on sexual and racial politics, says to the man about to photograph her for the book cover:

I used to think men were a little like onions. Layered creatures who often make you cry, just because of who they are. But recently I have come to think of men as much less complex vegetables. Like carrots.

Quinn Franzen, Alia Attallah,
Karan Oberoi
Photo: Hunter Canning

Interestingly enough, Threesome is the opposite. In the beginning, it seems very much like a basic sex comedy--a carrot. Leila and Rashid (Karan Oberoi) are partnered, and they have invited Doug (Quinn Franzen) to have sex with them. Well, Leila has invited him, and Rashid has grudgingly acquiesced, partially as penance for a flirtation with another woman. Leila and Rashid wait in the bedroom, dressed, and Doug enters fully nude, telling a gross story about stomach problems. At this point, Threesome seems like a version--a smart and superior version--of the one-dimensional Bruce Norris play, The Qualms. It's very funny.

Little by little, however, the play morphs into an onion. One or two layers down, Doug turns out to be an insecure mess trying to pass as a sensitive guy; Rashid can't control his anger; and Leila is caught between trying to act out a fantasy and making a point about female sexual agency. Only Doug is sure of what he wants, and his feelings are hurt when he doesn't get it. The three negotiate, bicker, and discuss politics, penis size, and sexuality, with only Doug focused on the ostensible goal: having a threesome. He doesn't realize that the evening has very little to do with him, saying things like, "You both got out of bed so now I'm feeling like I have leprosy. You saw the goods and you're reevaluating."

But it is the second act that gets into the truly deep layers, and they are devastating. Doug turns out to be the photographer for Leila's book cover, and the session is of course awkward with Doug vacillating between petulance and faux professionalism and Leila horrified that he wants her to pose in an abaya and niqab, which will cover all but her eyes, in a setting she describes as an "Orientalist, retro fantasia." They argue about the book cover and the aborted threesome. And then Rashid shows up, drunk and furious. He has finally read Leila's book, and some of its content has almost unhinged him.

To say more about the plot would be to say too much. Between El Guindi's writing and Chris Coleman's direction, the show is perfectly paced, unfolding in carefully calibrated scenes, and I am grateful to have gone in knowing little about it.

[spoilers]
It is fascinating that Threesome was written by a man. El Guindi is devastating in his depiction of the damage even "nice" men can do in their inability to see and feel the world from a female point of view. He acknowledges the pressures that men live under, but he is clear that those pressures are no excuse for male obliviousness. Leila too has faults--she is a three-dimensional character--but her worldview is not suspect in the same way.

Threesome makes the audience think about what nudity means, the limits of romantic relationships, how "voluntary" sex can resemble sexual violence, the terrible treatment of women worldwide, and the dreadful lack of knowledge about the Middle East in the U.S.

[end of spoilers]
I don't want to make Threesome sound like homework. It's not. It provokes thoughts organically, through the lived experience of its characters. Beside the superb writing and direction, the cast is amazingly committed, honest, and real. It's not an easy play to watch, but it is absolutely worth the time and emotional investment.

[press ticket; 8th row]