Theatre Review: Call Me Izzy
85 minutes without a break. Studio 54, 254 W. 54th St.
Jan Smart is definitely on a high note in her career, having won multiple Emmy Awards for her praised portrayal of the “hacking” comedian Deborah Vance over the last several years.
With her newfound fame, it seems like she could have selected a better project for her Broadway return, so why did she go for “Call Me Izzy”? It feels almost like a recycled script.
While Smart brings a certain humor and depth to the piece, it unfortunately feels overshadowed by playwright Jamie Wax’s uninspired one-woman show that debuted at Studio 54 recently.
The narrative revolves around a clichéd tale of a Louisiana woman in a trailer, suffering under the weight of an abusive husband. Izzy, mostly alone, turns to writing poetry as a form of escape, hiding her creations in a box of Tampons.
Izzy’s age? Her psychological state? Wax seems to take creative liberties, leaving many questions unattended.
The show begins with a lengthy explanation of a bowl she dropped, symbolizing overwhelming sadness—a heavy opener that doesn’t quite land right.
Sadly, the material stutters along for the entirety of its runtime, never quite escalating beyond a mediocre level.
Perhaps the most challenging aspect is that, aside from a contrived break-in by a professor character, the comedic elements come off as overly formulaic.
Have you heard that Izzy’s poems eventually catch the attention of a New York tastemaker? This twist creates an awkward rift between her and her husband. It’s reminiscent of a musical without the music, set in a coffee shop.
Much of “Call Me Izzy” leans heavily on outdated Southern stereotypes. Izzy is depicted as the lone educated person among a cast of drunken caricatures, delivering lines that could easily have come from a rocking chair on a porch.
As the story progresses, Wax has Izzy interact with Feld, a wealthy philanthropist, introducing yet another layer to the already convoluted theme—making the show feel even more tired.
At least Smart’s performance shines through. She doesn’t flit between characters like others might, but rather brings a relatable authenticity akin to a dinner table vibe.
Despite the flaws, she remains a delight to watch—a blend of a supportive friend and a fun aunt. Longtime fans of “Designing Women” will surely appreciate her Southern charm returning after a period of more glamourous roles.
Despite the painful undercurrents, Smart’s Izzy maintains an infectious joy, though she often stumbles over her lines in a style characteristic of television drama.
Then there’s the direction by Salna Rapine, which seems to stall in a bathroom setting. “Hack” may just be the most fitting word to describe the awkward transitions. We find ourselves staring into a bathroom for most of the play, even in moments devoid of characters. The staging feels cheap and lacking any real creativity.
In one scene, Izzy addresses herself, saying, “Come on Isabel! Call me Ishmael!”—a line that feels painfully unoriginal.
And therein lies the truth: there isn’t much substance here.
