The women in “The Game” — L to R, Hope Clayborne, Shannon Eubanks, Jennifer Alice Acker, Marcie Millard and Michelle Pokopac — enjoy each other’s company after rallying against their husbands. (Photos by Shannel J. Resto Photography)

Review: Horizon’s ‘Game’ plays on human behavior with winning results

Luke Evans

July 10, 2024

Video games and sex are at the center of The Game, the new comedy by Bekah Brunstetter currently having its regional premiere at Horizon Theatre. Running through July 28, the musical explores a group of women who, in trying to pull their partners away from their game consoles, end up grappling with their own loneliness and need for connection. While the script could use a touch of fine-tuning, there is nothing out of tune about this production, which boasts stellar performances, smart direction and more than a few laugh-out-loud moments.

The play opens on Alyssa (Jennifer Alice Acker), a no-nonsense, career-focused architect who has grown tired of her husband Homer’s (Chris Hecke) obsession with “The Game,” a popular multiplayer online shooting game. At her wits’ end, she allies with a group of women who also have lost partners to The Game, and they plot to withhold sex until their partners give up their addiction.

If the latter bit sounds familiar, it’s because this tactic is taken from Aristophanes’ Lysistrata, though The Game is not a direct adaptation of the ancient Greek comedy. There are obvious allusions, such as the names Homer and Alyssa, but the plot trajectory is markedly different. While both are interested in interrogating the nature of male/female relationships — particularly the ways in which romantic partners try and fail to communicate their needs — Brunstetter does so using modern relationship dynamics, which fundamentally changes the structure of the narrative. 

Brunstetter is a keen observer of human behavior, and the three-dimensional cast of characters she has created are a credit to her empathetic writing style. The relationships feel real and specific, bolstered by finely tuned performances from a cast with more chemistry than a hydrogen bomb. She knows how to mine these relationships for comedy and pathos, and director Caroline Jane Davis brings those relationships to life on stage. 

However, there are moments where this attentiveness to emotional realism hamstrings the premise. Structurally, the script is confused. Alyssa’s coalition of women decide to go full-on Lysistrata and use sex as a bargaining chip but are forced to re-strategize when confronted with the fact that ultimatums are not conducive to healthy relationships. On the one hand, this is a clever way of subverting the premise of Aristophanes’ original. On the other, it leaves the script feeling strangely aimless. Brunstetter’s more farcical impulses are in conflict with her realist sensibilities, and the play becomes somewhat muddled in tone as a result.

That is not to say that there is not much to love in the show’s individual parts, as Brunstetter’s writing is still intelligent and insightful. A particular strength is how she builds the relationships between the women, who begin to form bonds that go beyond the initial purpose of their alliance. Alyssa’s relationship with Homer is also lovingly crafted, inviting audiences to invest in the survival of their marriage.

The performances across the board are above critique. Every actor is in top form, inhabiting their characters with such ease that you’d think they’ve been playing these roles for years. They hit every comedic beat just right while finding intriguing layers of pathos, creating lived-in performances that are endlessly enjoyable to watch. Honestly, the ensemble is so tight and their performances so intertwined that it feels impossible to choose a standout.

The script is also uproariously funny. Brunstetter shows an impressive command of contemporary slang, which can often feel forced or unnatural when used in comedic contexts, but it is cleverly employed throughout. But really, the script is at its funniest when it leans into the raunchy nature of the premise (Let’s just say that props master Cori Williams got to have some fun).

Isabel and Moriah Curley-Clay work their magic with the set design, including a rotating piece that turns Alyssa’s living room into Homer’s man cave. Costume designer April Andrew Carswell opts for something simple with most of the characters but has some fun with online shopaholic Rhonda (Marcie Millard), who never enters a scene without cheetah print or some kind of statement jewelry. Mary Parker has few opportunities for flashy lighting design, save for a lovely sequence toward the end, in which Homer’s video game world is brought to life before our eyes — a sequence that also benefits from Amy L. Levin’s sound design.

All in all, The Game is a very enjoyable experience — a raucously good time that is bound to tug on the heartstrings in places. It’s perhaps a little confused in its purpose, but any holes in the script are overshadowed by this pitch-perfect production. 

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Luke Evans is an Atlanta-based writer, critic and dramaturg. He covers theater for ArtsATL and Broadway World Atlanta and has worked with theaters such as the Alliance, Actor’s Express, Out Front Theatre and Woodstock Arts. He’s a graduate of Oglethorpe University, where he earned his bachelor’s degree, and the University of Houston, where he earned his master’s.