“Almost, Maine” is almost bearable. Almost every character in the play is trite and one dimensional. Almost every instance of of symbolism in the play, every instance of love made literal — a broken heart carried in a bag, an ex-lover named Hope — feels so contrived as to be laughable. For this reason, I can almost understand why it is considered a comedy. Not once, however, did I laugh.
Not once, either, does the play relent in its almost Hallmark Channel-esque representation of love. Kisses are stolen, eyes grow wide, knees go weak. It is almost certain that playwright John Cariani wrote "Almost, Maine" for adolescents.
Yet, upon hearing this critique, someone is bound to cry out, "No, no, you've missed the point! The play is not childish or trivial. It's lighthearted and airy."
Of its airiness, I would gladly agree, for the play's nine vignettes do indeed float by. Beginning with "The Prologue," a skit on miscommunication between lovers, the play moves forward quite swiftly, presenting us with eight brief variations upon that initial theme. Each takes place within the same town of Almost, Maine and each features two lovers or would-be lovers struggling with the “L-word.” Yet, while certain vignettes depict love prevailing over miscommunication and others depict the opposite, all of these scenes accomplish their receptive aims with a certain cartoonish flair. The play's airiness is not born of skill and deft technique. Rather, it is born of a lack of emotional depth paired with an abundance of breezy puns and gags.
A prime example of this shallowness would be the second vignette of the play, "Her Heart." A woman named Glory, mourning the comedic death of her husband and clutching to her chest a bag filled with her broken heart, stumbles onto a man's property. Her husband's name just so happens to be Wes, and and the landowner just so happens to be named East. This man, East, is a repairman by trade. Yes, that's right, a repairman, someone who knows how to repair broken things. Perhaps, then — just maybe! — this guy will be able to repair Glory's broken heart. Can he? Oh, but look there now, look there! Yes, he has kissed her. And her broken heart, wouldn't you know it, has fallen into his hands. A broken heart repaired with love. How sweet. How nauseatingly sweet.
If only the play had provided less of this pun-laden gimmickry, if only the actors — four of them, playing nineteen characters — had not put forth such hammy, exclamatory performances; if only I had the tolerance necessary to endure what turned out to be a rom-com boiled down to its basest and most saccharine essentials, I could have enjoyed the play.
“Almost, Maine” was almost a disaster. If there was one good thing about the play, it was the audience's reaction to it. Though I couldn’t stomach the play's gags, those around me were more than willing to eat them up, laughing and applauding throughout. In this way, then, “Almost, Maine” is a play for almost everybody. It most certainly wasn't for me. It may or may not be for you.
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