“Tragedy Gift Shop” more fable than play

Commonplace gun violence. Exploitation. Sensationalism. Amoral corporate greed. This is today’s America, and it’s enough to make you want to scream. If you’re a playwright, your scream may make it to the stage. Hence Tragedy Gift Shop, Ryan McClary’s second world premiere at the Garage Theatre in four seasons. 

Boon’s Emporium, a one-stop shop for all the tragedy-related curios your broken little heart desires (ghost bikes, commemorative pins, hand-sized American flags), is a going concern, opening a new location (no. 9) in Townsville after a school shooting there left 15 dead. It’s a homecoming for Boon’s proprietor Chris Udall (Rory Cowan), a chance to re-root himself even as the Boon’s brand continues to expand. For Lucy (Jade Dodgen), a Townsville High student who narrowly escaped being among the dead, a job at Boon’s feels like just the ticket to fashion healing from her awful experience. But the wraith of the boy who saved her life (Sage Forsythe) helps her come to question Boon’s mission and the part she’s playing.

Aside from its straightforward cynicism about capitalism, Tragedy Gift Shop never quite coheres, with characters bouncing between minimal interactions and tell-don’t-show monologs. As kindly English teacher Ms. Sorensen, Jade Yancosky gives us a nice one at the beginning of Act Two, but we only know she cares because she says so, not because we ever get to see it. Plotwise, nothing much happens beyond the gradual revelation that the “dark masters” behind Boon’s (a pharmaceutical conglomerate, it turns out) prioritize profit over healing — not much of a plot point, considering that we find Boon’s obviously suspect from the get-go.

With such a dearth of dramatic elements, it seems McClary got stuck in a no-man’s land between overgrown fable and underfed play. The characters have no flesh on their bones. Lucy is in pain and trying to figure out how to move forward — but personality traits? Not so much. And she’s the protagonist. 

There are also some curious choices. For example, after Udall calls himself a carpetbagger in Act One, considering that by Act Two he’s gone out of his way to tell us he’s set to stay in Townsville forever, even if you don’t know a carpet bag from a bindle you should puzzle over his now being outfitted in hobo finery. And though it’s not important that sometimes actors look at cell phones or books but at others it’s just their empty hands, it’s hard not to notice.

Rob Young’s set design is good fun, though less for the Boon’s Emporium trimmings (perfectly nice) than the audience seating (four sections to choose from on three sides) and an ingress that snakes you away from the usual Garage entry point and through a Townsville High hallway. It’s got nothing to do with the play’s action — it’s just good Garage Theatre fun.

I count myself something of a Ryan McClary fan. Entropy General remains one of my most memorable nights of theatre (two nights, actually: I went back for seconds) despite the fact that it took place 14 years ago; and 2022’s The Private Lives of Imaginary Friends was an effective, affecting view from inside a mind finding it difficult to navigate the world without. But although Tragedy Gift Shop has something to say, McClary has figured out the best way to say it. But good that the Garage is giving him a chance to use his voice. I hope they’ll keep doing so.

Tragedy Gift Shop at the Garage Theatre
Times: Thursday–Saturday 8:00 p.m.
The show runs through April 5.
Cost: $23–$28 (Thursdays 2-for-1); closing night w/afterparty: $40
Details: thegaragetheatre.org
Venue: The Garage Theatre, 251 E. 7th St., Long Beach