Exiting the theater after seeing “Little Bear Ridge Road,” I was obsessing over Laurie Metcalf’s fierce, spot-on performance. I couldn’t help but think, it’s as if the role of the reclusive, acid-tongued aunt was written for her.
After a little research, I discovered that was precisely the case. The drama, by Samuel D. Hunter (“The Whale”), was commissioned by the Steppenwolf Theatre Company on behalf of Metcalf and the prolific director Joe Mantello, in part to celebrate the revered company’s 50th anniversary. Metcalf, incredibly enough, joined the troupe in 1975, soon after it was founded.
Following a warmly received run at Steppenwolf, the work has now landed at the Booth Theatre on Broadway. The pungent, slow-boil of a drama not only examines the deeply human need for connection, but also the power of forgiveness after unimaginable anguish. Not surprisingly, simmering resentment erupts into an explosive showdown. But can the reckoning lead to healing?
Metcalf, who has starred in no less than seven Broadway shows during the past decade, lends a feisty surliness to Sarah, a healthcare worker who takes in her estranged nephew, Ethan, as the covid pandemic is raging. Well into his thirties, he has ditched Seattle to return to his hometown in rural Idaho after the death of his drug-addicted father (Sarah’s brother) to put the estate in order.
The emotionally adrift Ethan is portrayed by Micah Stock, who confers an air of snarky defiance to an otherwise sad-sack role. Early on, Ethan recounts the painful moment when his father called him a “faggot,” which suggested that the play might veer into well-trod coming-out territory. Fans of playwright Hunter, however, know that the sexual orientation of his gay characters is incidental, rarely the focus of agonizing plot twists.
Refreshingly, Sarah doesn’t bat an eye after Ethan mentions his sexuality. When she discovers a strange man (John Drea) putting on his shoes in her living room at dawn, she freaks out — not because Ethan hooked up with a guy. It’s because, well, there was a strange man in her living room. At one point, she even urges the men to kiss. Turns out the rather attractive young man, named James, becomes more than just a one-night fling.
Under the clear-eyed direction of Mantello (“Take Me Out,” “Wicked”), Sarah and Ethan’s connection deepens over time. Their shared propensity to binge-watch television serves as the glue in an otherwise fraught relationship. “Why does TV now have to be so complicated?” Sarah rants, noting that shows now need weekly recaps to help viewers follow the plot.
The set, by Scott Pask, is an exercise in restraint. It consists largely of Sarah’s shabby off-white couch with a dual recliner feature, set on a turntable in a vast expanse of emptiness, reflecting the play’s theme of isolation. A rotation of the couch is meant to indicate a switch in location, or in time, which I found somewhat confusing. I had to check the Playbill, which states that the narrative spotlights various points from 2020 through 2022.
Ethan’s bond with James evolves as well. Ethan is an aspiring writer who lacks the requisite drive to actually produce something, while James is happily in graduate school studying astrophysics. One starry evening, during a deep discussion over the phone about the profound wonders of the cosmos, Ethan suffers a panic attack. “It just sometimes feels I’ve been fooling myself for a really long time now,” he confesses, practically in tears.
Not that “Little Bear Ridge Road” is all rancor and regret. The script is peppered with well-timed pops of levity. For example, after remarking that Sarah’s property is on a secluded ridge with no light pollution, James says, “One of these days I should come out there, take out my telescope.” Without missing a beat, Ethan quips, “I bet you say that to all the boys.”
“Little Bear Ridge Road” | Booth Theatre | 222 W. 45th St. | $74–$206 | littlebearridgeroad.com | Through February 15, 2026 | 95 min., no intermission
