Polly (Claire Siebers, left) and Lin (Mahira Kakkar) are half-sisters with the same father, though Polly’s mother was important to Lin.
Time and again, stories about what the future holds for technology and humanity have enthralled audiences—think of the rabid followings for The Twilight Zone and Black Mirror, produced 50 years apart. Playwright Karen Hartman puts forth her contribution to the genre with New Golden Age. But whereas those TV shows grabbed viewers with suspense, plot twists and amusing allegory, New Golden Age mainly offers talking. More than three-quarters of its run time is occupied by one long scene, and it consists mostly of people standing around talking. That tedium outweighs any emotional reaction that Hartman’s Facebook-run-amok scenario may elicit.
In the year 2033 that Hartman imagines, citizens have been, as one character says, “set free from old-fashioned devices”—but not because they’ve finally started looking up from their cellphones once in a while. They don’t need devices any longer because all those devices’ functions are now conducted by “Sunplant” communication chips that were implanted in their bodies by the omnipotent tech company Sunlight.
Ricardy Fabre as Silas in New Golden Age: “Raised Underforce since age 10, and I’m full-time at Sunlight. Anything is possible!”
Sunlight’s latest enterprise is creating Seedbank Tales—narratives to be monetized, or perhaps performed as entertainment, that will come from individuals’ memories. Sunlight can harvest memories because the Sunplants cull cells from their wearers, and cells contain memories.
Which brings us to an early scene between Polly and Silas, two characters seated on a couch, drinks in hand. The two appear to be flirting in a coffeehouse as they breezily tell each other about their lives. But it’s actually an interview: Polly is applying to work on Seedbank Tales, and she has offered her memory of a significant time in her life. Sunlight employee Silas wants something else from her, though: access to her half-sister, Lin, a renowned ethics professor and leader of the anti-Sunlight resistance (“We restore intimacy, and train youth to restore it to others”). Polly needs the Seedbank work because she has debts; Silas needs to succeed in his task so that, as a reward, his parents will be freed from the Underforce—basically, Sunlight’s indentured servitude.
With all this invented lingo (talent worker, AwareHome and the lowlow are some other Sunlight-related terms) and a future dystopia that has just enough similarities to our present reality to seem possible, Hartman checks the key boxes for crafting a horror story like this. If only some of the things that are simply discussed—like the activities of Lin’s followers or the body-covering “debtor’s badge”—were dramatized, the play would be more exciting. During that one long scene, all five characters come and go, there’s a flashback, and more happens, but it still feels very talky.
The production, directed by Jade King Carroll, is well acted and designed. Of particular note is Fan Zhang’s sound design, which includes various sounds a cellphone might make—except they emanate from people’s bodies (because of their Sunplants). Lin’s office, where most of the play takes place, is handsomely but traditionally appointed by scenic designer Lee Savage with tall diamond-pane windows, packed bookcases, a heavy wood desk and multicultural knickknacks.
Sunlight head Mat (Doug Harris) faces off with Right to the Dark leader Lin (Kakkar). Photographs by James Leynse.
India-born actress Mahira Kakkar plays Lin with elegant authority, dressed by costume designer Jen Caprio in a royal-blue belted tunic and trousers. As Lin’s younger sibling Polly, Claire Siebers is a contrast in personality and appearance; her ambiguous interplay with Ricardy Fabre’s Silas in the second scene is a highlight. In the role of Sunlight’s Mark Zuckerberg–inspired founder Mat, Doug Harris is more smirking and boyish than snarling know-it-all—appropriate since the script describes Mat as “more Buttigieg than Zuckerberg.”
Trans actor Carmen Castillo, as Lin’s devotee/teaching assistant Jace, makes an impression with an outfit of halter top, argyle skirt and combat boots (and green hair), brief guitar-and-song interludes and interaction with the audience. Jace may have fewer lines than the other characters, but they’re among the most memorable, explaining the support for Lin’s movement:
Many of us cannot carry out basic tasks without Sunplant. This supposed convenience has made us dependent. Sunplant gives directions to all of our destinations, and now our cognitive mapping—the compass in our brains—has shrunk. Sunplant tells us when to eat, and now our central nervous systems have lost function.
I have learned that nothing would be the same without me. It is our right, it is our strength: to know who we are when no one is watching. To reach for each other.
Given the real-life influence that technology has had on privacy, personal relations, even politics, a drama like New Golden Age can prove irresistible to fans of futuristic thrillers. It’s a missed opportunity that this play concerned with intimacy would be so detached in its storytelling.
New Golden Age is running through June 9 at 59E59 Theaters (59 E. 59th St.). Performances are at 7:15 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, with matinees at 2:15 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. For tickets, visit primarystages.org.
