Business in the backroom in Boca Stage’s Dry Powder with, from left, Wayne LeGette_Autumn Kioti Horne, Christopher Dreeson_and Michael Scott Ross (Photos by Amy Pasquantonio)
By Jan Sjostrom
Dry Powder deals with an age-old question: For what price would you sell your soul? If you don’t believe in souls, substitute the word integrity.
Playwright Sarah Burgess’s 2016 dark comedy is set in the world of high finance. It also explores issues such as the growing gap between rich and poor and the decline of American manufacturing. But it always comes back to the choices people make and what they value.
The tense, barbed, well-crafted production, which unfolds in 90 minutes without intermission, is the final show in Boca Stage’s season.
Helmed by director Genie Croft, it’s a welcome change from the frothier shows the company has favored since its move to the Delray Beach Playhouse. Not that froth doesn’t have its place. But so does serious material that holds up a mirror well worth looking into.
Don’t be put off by the show’s finance lingo. For starters, Investopedia defines dry powder as “the amount of cash reserves or liquid assets available for use.”
The story begins with a crisis at a high-flying private equity firm. KMM Capital Management is embroiled in a public relations nightmare because its leader, Rick, treated himself to a lavish engagement party the same week that the firm forced massive layoffs at a national grocery store chain it had acquired. Rick is being skewered by the press and protests are making the firm’s investors skittish.
His junior partner Seth comes to the rescue with a deal to invest in and update an American luggage company. Seth asserts that the all-American deal would reap a nearly threefold return and restore the firm’s reputation.
Seth’s rival Jenny immediately goes on the attack to point out how much more money they could make by gutting the company, off-shoring its production, burdening it with debt and shedding it before the shine wears off.
Her plan dismays Seth, who has forged a friendship with the luggage company’s CEO, Jeff, and secured the deal’s bargain-basement price based on his trust in Seth.
Characteristically, Rick keeps his options open – and pits his junior partners against each other – by directing Jenny to produce a less Draconian version of her plan.
A fierce battle ensues, during which Seth struggles with his conscience, hamstrung by the restraints Rick imposes on how up-front he can be with Jeff, and Jenny, whose ruthlessness knows no bounds. For much of the play the rivals trade witty insults, lacerating what each sees as fatal flaws in the other.
Autumn Kioti Horne
In a razor-sharp portrayal by Autumn Kioti Horne, Jenny cares for nothing but the chase for the most lucrative deal. She doesn’t recall the names of close subordinates and dismisses anyone who objects to her tactics as inferior.
Seth is made of shades of grey, flickering between black and white in Michael Scott Ross’s nuanced performance. He chases success as well, but cherishes the notion that what’s good for him can be good for all concerned.
Planted between the two like a colossus straddling enemy camps is Rick, who toggles between practiced bonhomie and icy command in a sure-footed performance by Wayne LeGette.
Jeff is the pawn in this game, but in Christopher Dreeson’s multifaceted portrayal he’s not as simple as he seems.
As the stakes mount, Croft keeps the tension tightly wound. Fixing an unflinching eye on often unflattering truths, she draws top-notch performances from the cast.
The rest of the production is also well done. For example, Claudia Smith’s set isn’t just a set. It represents the three locales where moral quandaries pivotal to the story play out: Rick’s office, with its view of the Manhattan skyline; the barroom where Seth and Jeff meet; and a waiting room the significance of which isn’t revealed until the show’s end.
By then audience members might be asking themselves two timely questions. How accurately does the play represent the way such deals are made? And does integrity always have a price tag?
Boca Stage’s production of Dry Powder plays through May 4 at the Delray Beach Playhouse, 950 N.W. 9th St., Delray Beach. Evening performances will be held at 7 p.m. on Thursday, Friday and Saturday and matinees at noon on Wednesday and 1 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday. Run time is 90 minutes without intermission. Tickets range from $59 to $69. For information call 561 272-1281 or visit https://tinyurl.com/5n982brd
Michael Scott Ross and Autumn Kioti Horne
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