There are records of people soaking in hot water pools, for relaxation and medicinal purposes, that go back at least ten thousand years. Hot springs and baths were an essential part of life in Rome, Egypt and Greece, and Native Americans swore by the health properties of warm-water geological formations. But a spa always meant having to travel somewhere, there’s a whole city in Somerset named after the act of immersing oneself in water; it wasn’t until the 1970’s, with the arrival of the “Jacuzzi family spa”, that people were finally able enjoy hot, bubbly baths at home. Since then, hot tubs or jacuzzis have become a staple of luxurious Western civilization, becoming symbols of things that range from old-world decadence to the nouveau-rich-ness exemplified in modern reality television shows.
The tub’s economic significance is at the center of Jacuzzi, by Hannah Bos and Paul Thureen of The Debate Society, who focus on the contrasting qualities of the spa by making it the most prominent item onstage. The setting is a chalet in 1980s Colorado, adorned with old-fashioned ski memorabilia and wooden artifacts, which are somehow made even stranger by the presence of the enormous cauldron towards the left. When the show begins we meet Helene (Bos) and Erik (Thureen), who are soaking in the tub, each reading a copy of the same book. Their peaceful evening is interrupted by the arrival of Bo Marshall (Chris Lowell), the estranged son of the chalet’s owner Robert (Peter Friedman), who showed up earlier than he was expected.
Apologizing to the people he assumes are renting the chalet, he accepts their invitation to stay the night, joins them in the tub and, as is usually the case when strangers with wine, soak in a jacuzzi, deep conversation ensues. The next morning when Robert arrives, his son learns that Erik and Helene were in fact employees looking after the cabin, setting off a darkly comedic plot in which social inequalities lead to unspeakable tragedy.
Acutely written by Bos and Thureen, Jacuzzi works on many levels: it is a compelling family drama with nods to the broken male characters of Tennessee Williams, which has us wondering why Bo became so detached from his family. It’s also a hilarious farce in which we wonder how many cases of mistaken identities we’ll witness and finally it’s a chilling political essay that tries to find a compromise between the blissful, self-taught ignorance of the haves, and the drastic, often unpredictable measures taken by the have-nots.
The cast is exceptional; Lowell surprises for his heartbreaking transformation from self-entitled douchebag to broken down jock (praise must be given to costume designer Jessica Ford, whose colorful ensembles help highlight how these characters lack any awareness and choose to indulge in the purely ridiculous), Friedman excels at alternating between acting like a resentful old man and a youthful middle-aged divorcé who has a newfound mission in life. Thureen, whose larger-than-life presence is often referred to in the show (“the tall guy”) makes a perfectly droll Igor-figure, following the instructions of the conniving Helene, who as performed by the brilliant Bos, has the ability to shift from femme fatale to earthy gal-next-door in the blink of an eye.
Jacuzzi is a finely tuned piece of theater that works as a creepy diorama of life in the 1980s, time during which Americans were promised endless economic prosperity which they expressed through outrageous, bold choices in attire, political strategies and inventions (the chalet in the play has satellite TV!) and as a timely allegory of how little things have changed. It captures a moment in time so specific, that when the curtain falls we are surprised to realize we haven’t been looking into a mirror all along.
