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Shuler Hensley and Micaela Diamond in
The Seat of Our Pants.
Credit: Joan Marcus |
At this year’s Thanksgiving dinner, a young relative expressed her fears the world might be doomed because of AI and a certain lawless occupant of the White House. Us old folks had to reassure her that America and humankind in general has faced worst crises and we’ve come through, if only by the skin of our teeth or the seat of our pants. In similar conversations, friends have expressed the overwhelming fear that freedom and democracy are kaput in this country, that we are headed for becoming another Gilead (the fictional right-wing dystopia of Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale), and where can they safely emigrate to? These encounters brought home the realization that this is the perfect historic moment for Ethan Lipton’s The Seat of Our Pants (at the Public), a musical adaptation of The Skin of Our Teeth, Thornton Wilder’s crazy comedy of civilization triumphing over countless disasters. Debuting on Broadway in 1942, as America had just entered the Second World War, Wilder’s Pulitzer-Prize winning existential extravaganza imagines a typical modern suburban family, the Antrobuses standing in for all of humanity as they face glaciers, floods, and devastating wars. Characters speak directly to the audience, the fourth wall is broken numerous times, dinosaurs and mammoths romp through living rooms, and Noah’s Ark, the Ice Age and World War III are recreated. It’s insane but it works. As does Lipton’s adaptation which cleverly balances Wilder’s original, slightly dated script with modern sensibility and appropriately off-kilter, satiric songs. (John Kander, Fred Ebb, and Joseph Stein attempted their own musical version of Skin which went through regional productions, readings, and workshops, but never made it to New York.)
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Michael Lepore, Micaela Dimaond,
Ruthie Ann Miles, Geena Quintos, and
David Ryan Smith in The Seat of Our Pants.
Credit: Joan Marcus |
Lipton follows Wilder’s original fairly closely with a few well-placed detours into 2025 territory and his songs strike just the right note of whimsical earnestness. The Antrobus family and their maid Sabina are first seen in their New Jersey home struggling to stay warm as a sheet of ice threatens to obliterate mankind. As they gather around a diminishing fire with homeless refugees representing philosophical, religious and artistic figures, they sing “We were born out of the darkness/And should the darkness call us back/Let us pray we smell a brisket/As we slip into the black.” It’s that specific absurd image of a brisket that brings us into the Wilder mindset of bizarre comedy amidst terror. Director Leigh Silverman stages the goofy goings-on with a serious edge, allowing the comedy to subtly come through and the seriousness to slowly surface.
