Review: South Coast Repertory Presents World Premiere Play THE STAIRCASE

"Stairs is a young woman's game," Mother declares with an exhaustive sigh as she makes the arduous climb up to an uncertain, possibly uncomfortable something.

It's the perfectly laid out metaphor at the center of fresh-voiced playwright Noa Gardner's admirable new play THE STAIRCASE, now in the midst of its World Premiere production under the direction of Gaye Taylor Upchurch at OC's South Coast Repertory in Costa Mesa through May 18 as part of their annual Pacific Playwrights Festival. 

Not only is this titular imposing structure placed smack-dab in the middle of the play's sole detailed set quite hard to miss, the harshly angled apparatus almost looks like this jagged object that appears to have stabbed itself in the middle of a house like an old machete left impaled on a cadaver—representing the very sadness that has shrouded this home in a seemingly stilted melancholy.

That wound of sadness represented by this staircase weighs heavily on the play—and the play's two main characters—throughout, where family secrets and familial obligations hold everyone, in a way, hostage. Those secrets are then finally unveiled (and, perhaps, unburdened) in detail at the play's conclusion—even though many of us probably got the gist of what's been troubling these characters within the play's first ten minutes. 

Using many long stretches of orations to un-peel its not-so-hidden surface layers, the play is mostly commendable in artistic execution and cultural specificity, but could, perhaps, use some more editing in its hopefully ongoing evolution. 

Set in the part of the "real" Hawaii that tourists are unlikely to ever see during their leisurely visits to the nation's 50th state, THE STAIRCASE occurs entirely inside a modest, frozen-in-time abode that has probably fallen behind on regular upkeep for many years. Cozy and lived-in as most older homes go, it serves as both protective shelter and a metaphorical prison of sorts that has trapped its inhabitants in a swirl of inner turmoil.

Within its walls we find an aging Mother (the endearing Ehulani Hope Kane) and her middle-aged adult Son (Wil Kahele) who spend their evenings playing card games and trading native Hawaiian stories to pass the time in between meals, sleeps, household repairs, and ongoing arguments about the littlest things. One doesn't need a falling mango to clunk them on the head to realize that these mythological tales, of course, serve as a digressively-verbose respite from their own complex histories which they both would rather not discuss out loud lest they confront the realities of their past lives.

But every so often, Mother mentions the current existence of Father (Ben Cain), which the Son must repeatedly correct since, well, the guy isn't actually there anymore (she claims he is, perhaps, just upstairs out of sight for the time being). Unsurprisingly, the mystery of this (at first) unseen man has clearly been set up as the "big mystery" in the play's narrative which I won't spoil here.

Though the Son's frustrations over his Mother's frequent memory lapses—and "romanticizing of facts"—never boil over, it is clear from the get-go that he has surrendered to the kind of passive back-and-forth that one resorts to when dealing with an aging parent suffering from the slow progress of advanced-age dementia—which requires both patience and, eventually, acquiescence on the part of whomever is left in charge as that aging person's attentive caretaker. 

There's no denying that there is deep love involved, sure, but it's still quite heartbreaking to witness the slow erosion of both people who care for each other, nonetheless.

Seeing this familiar scenario play out in THE STAIRCASE is a jolt of reality for many of us with aging parents who must now reverse roles to take care of them. In that sense, the Son easily earns the audience's empathy and understanding, setting up a desire for him to get some kind of care for himself, too. 

In a way, that care finally arrives later in the form of a potential paramour who, for the first time, presents the Son with the possibility of a different kind of future. 

During one of his grocery store runs in town, Son has reunited with Sweetheart (Nara Cardenas), his former flame, which, predictably, adds a new pep in his step. Next thing you know, the two are apparently back in a very close relationship, to the point where she just sort of shows up after an invitation over to their home to celebrate Mother's 84th birthday. Luckily, her presence brings a bit of lightness to the Son's otherwise resigned environment, even as long-held tensions from past events are beginning to bubble to the surface. Mother, for her part, likes the idea that Son has found a companion.

And though still quite the spitfire, Mother, we can deduce, has seen better days when it comes to cognitive and emotional acuity, but underneath that exterior seems to be a woman also suffering from squelched emotions she dares not express out loud, particularly in front of her Son. What inner pain is she hiding? Is she suppressing an inner pain or can she genuinely just not remember exact details from her past?

Still, a nagging something endures. Did something happen at the top of that staircase—a structure that Father built—that has scared both Mother and Son enough to suppress memories and withhold their respective deeper emotional connections?

Filled with relatable motifs, beautifully authentic cultural representation, and an intriguing (if slightly predictable) premise, THE STAIRCASE is an impressive debut from Gardner who first premiered the original bones of this work during SCR's 2023 Pacific Playwrights Festival. 

The actors are all incredible, particularly in their authentic cadence using Hawaiian Pidgin which adds a piercing realism to the dynamics of a mother-son relationship in juxtaposition  to the two other people that enter their bubble. Gardner clearly writes his characters with an affectionate hand and it shows in his choices.

And while I genuinely enjoyed the overall narrative and the performances of its ensemble (including the haunting live Hawaiian interludes provided by musician Blaze Kainui Whiting) and the play's top-notch production values (Tony Award winner Rachel Hauck's set is a sublime mash-up of lived-in authenticity and theatrical magic), the play occasionally finds itself mired in long, drawn-out monologues that many might find too wordy or off-putting (as several post-show discussions I had with others confirmed), particularly because so much can already be gleaned by context clues without the need for such extended stretches of speeches.  

When some forms of non-verbal action finally occurs—the appearance of a new lady friend, the presence of party balloons, a new chandelier emerging from the rafters, a rainstorm, a musical interlude provided by Whiting from his up-high perch—their mere existence becomes a welcome jostle amongst all that chatter. 

In essence, there's certainly a lot more telling than showing occurring in this play, and this imbalance feels easily correctible without any loss to its greater narrative impact for future productions. A few suggestions: perhaps a few more flashbacks to interrupt the talks, seeing the actual romance develop between Son and Sweetheart (rather than just tell us…. Oh, yeah, by the way, these two are now in a relationship), and, maybe, see the stories concocted by Mother come to life during her narration… 

And, yes, I do hope this admirable debut work earns future productions—because there is indeed an impact to be gained and it is quite resonant once all has been said.

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Photos by Robert Huskey, courtesy of South Coast Repertory.

Performances of Noa Gardner's THE STAIRCASE at South Coast Repertory continue through May 18, 2025. Tickets can be purchased online at www.scr.org, by phone at (714) 708-5555 or by visiting the box office at 655 Town Center Drive in Costa Mesa. 

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