We are living in what many might consider “the best of times and the worst of times” and once again history “rhymes.” One of our most savvy, socially aware contemporary playwrights, Jonathan Spector, premiered his lovingly sardonic satire (yes, this brilliant playwright manages to walk that fine line) about privileged progressive parents debating vaccine mandates at a high-minded “woke” elementary school in Berkeley, CA, in 2018. EUREKA DAY was first staged pre-Covid, but just after the infamous measles outbreak in California’s Disneyland. Ironically, here we are again with anti-vaccination and anti-science politics dominating the scene, and measles, which was effectively “eliminated” in 2000, coming in at 2,500 cases thus far for 2026, including several deaths.
When Spector’s play made it to Broadway, Eureka Day won a 2025 Tony Award for Best Revival of a Play. Would that we weren’t still facing such issues – with even greater repercussions than those at a private, fanatically progressive Bay Area school suddenly confronting an outbreak of the mumps. By watching the passionate interactions of the play’s executive committee of school parents, we can’t help but wonder if we would react with empathy and compassion upon hearing positions based on personal experiences very different from our own. Is their stated goal of complete consensus even possible? Despite the best of intentions, will there come a time when one must simply, and graciously, accept majority rule?
What makes this serious, even frightening topic surprisingly and overwhelmingly enjoyable is that it’s presented with heavy doses of humor. The trope of “laughter is the best medicine” certainly applies. As does what comedians always tap into: Nothing beats laughing at our most painful situations!
Island City Stage‘s artistic director Andy Rogow – who does a phenomenal job as EUREKA DAY‘s director, where so much depends on comedic pacing – says he first became aware of this unique play five-and-a-half years ago. And now sees it as the perfect closer for their especially thought-provoking 14th season. As Rogow ponders in his director’s note: “The play challenges us to consider what performative inclusion is and what actual inclusion looks like …. Inclusion is incredibly difficult as we all have personal prejudices; this play compels us to always be questioning those prejudices so we can truly be inclusive.” Did you know this play was scheduled to be performed at the Kennedy Center last year but was cancelled by its new administration? Nuff said about where inclusion fits in our country today.
Which is why it was particularly delightful to take a nostalgic step back in time to the bright and inclusionary-decorated children’s library that forms Eureka Day‘s elaborate stage set. It’s worth arriving early to stroll and take in all the books, posters, and signs in Michael McClain’s storybook-perfect scenic design featuring a wealth of both Island City-specific and woke, social-justice-type books judiciously selected by property designer/dramaturg Ana Marie Calise.
Tippins.
What first struck me, at the right, was a front-facing picture book titled Chipmunk & Squirrel by Ezra Stein. I snuck a peek; yes, real illustrated pages like those I remembered being projected during Island City’s unforgettable Everything Beautiful Happens at Night. I grabbed house manager Megan DeGraaf who confirmed this was the picture book artist Bong Redila had illustrated for that show and proceeded to give me a tour of various other shelved volumes which referenced the company’s recent performances. If you’re a season subscriber, ask Megan to show you around the set. You might get a kick out of such insider information!
Before the play begins, and often at scene changes, we hear children’s voices accompanying 1970’s megahit, “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing (In Perfect Harmony).” The song’s message feels more ironic as the play proceeds. Intermission features Peter, Paul & Mary’s whimsically touching “Puff the Magic Dragon,” describing a magical, childhood fantasy relationship which ends when the child grows up. Likewise, our naively well-intentioned, liberal, Bay Area committee members must face the uncomfortable fact that endless sympathetic discussion cannot always lead to universal consensus at their beloved private school.
But fear not, you’re never left feeling down for long because we can always laugh at ourselves (or at least known “types” around us!). Playwright Jonathan Spector has managed to inject lots of laugh-out-loud humor from the very first scene … and only builds up the guffaws as the play proceeds. Culminating in an ultimate crescendo of non-stop belly laughs as we do our best to keep up with the side-show inanities, and downright prejudicial nasty comments (reflecting the worst of today’s social media “comment” platforms) that hastily scroll up on a large screen in Act 2.
That’s when all Eureka Day parents are invited to join the executive committee in an online Zoom discussion about how and when to reopen the school after a mumps outbreak quarantine. The parents’ projected chat interactions range from pervasive, irrelevant gossip and socialization to demonizing rage. Even to the point of calling someone “a Nazi” … to every committee member’s horror!!
scones. Photo by Matthew Tippins.
Normally calm leader Don becomes increasingly distressed and when he simply can’t take it anymore, furiously slams shut their laptop. The meeting is over. But their agenda’s serious questions remain. Should the school, for the first time, require everyone be vaccinated before attending class? And then only allow pre-vaccinated kids who’ve had the time to develop immunity to join? What about the 615 students who’d contracted mumps? Do they now possess natural immunity?
They’d contacted a pediatrician who’s also the mother of a fourth grader at the school to contribute her expertise, but she never gets to say a word. Still, we do hear some common concerns. Like is it fair to make those who got sick through no fault of their own to forfeit their tuition money by not being allowed in school? What about those who still refuse to be vaccinated? Finally, if they extend the quarantine and wait to open till everyone is vaccinated and well, how can the school survive financially?
But before all this cutting-edge, hilarious, and all-too-recognizable attempt at an executive committee-run Zoom meeting which descends into chaos, we observe a more typical First Day of School agenda held at the children’s library. And meet our externally diverse but unanimously well off, liberal, and very involved in their kids’ education executive committee. The meeting’s called to order by school head Don (Ted deChatelet), who strikes a small bowl chime (like in yoga class), then repeatedly strikes his little bowl to gain attention – with mixed results. Casually dressed in long shorts and sandals (spot on costume design by W. Emile White), Don evokes a laid-back hippie, allows others to monopolize the discussion, and primarily interjects to maintain decorum. But when the sh_t hits the fan in Act 2, even he has his limits!
First item on the new school year’s agenda is introduced by Eli (Brandon Campbell), a stay-at-home dad who’d made a fortune at Facebook. Eli proposes adding “Transracial Adoptee” to their already very lengthy admission form (there are at least a dozen categories that still end in “other”). Just hearing this zany list is a hoot! There’s talk of why “adoptee” should be added as no one generally cares and might be private, along with various other objections and then still more considerations of possible “add ons.” Finally, all five members agree to leave things as they are.
Still, the scene gives us a window into the process of everyone having their full say (at least attempting to, as there are some frequent interrupters), and we learn a bit about the members. Like always “sorry to interrupt” Eli, who always does so, nonetheless. Eli takes pride in having helmed a more equitable production of Peter Pan which took place in outer space “so that all the kids could fly.” We also hear how “You can always spot a Eureka Day kid at a soccer game because they’re the ones who cheer when the other team scores.”
Eli claims to be in an open marriage, agreed to by his wife who’s often out of town. So, in addition to arranging play dates between their kids, Eli’s pursuing a love affair with fellow committee member Meiko (Jen Chia) who sits quietly knitting, but observant, and tends to speak up only when others decide to speak on her behalf. We see there’s a hell of a lot more to Meiko than meets the eye when she suddenly erupts into a passionate soliloquy about what’s wrong in today’s world – enumerating climate change, plastics, inequality, and more, and how it hardly matters what they decide, as nothing out there is being properly addressed for the future of their children. When Meiko’s daughter unwittingly infects Eli’s son with mumps and his case becomes serious, Eli’s wife Rebecca turns into a mother tiger, repeatedly sending Meiko “whore” texts. Maybe this open marriage “consensus” was only one-sided, but even if not, Meiko decides to end their relationship.
The most domineering member of the committee – who feels she’s entitled because she’s the oldest and had been a Eureka Day parent the longest … during which time she’d contributed an entire bookcase of kids’ books to their library – is Suzanne (Maribeth Graham). Suzanne says her “baby” is now in fifth grade, jokingly adding that her husband claims “we did eight rounds of IVF because I wasn’t ready to leave Eureka Day.” She’s also a staunch anti-vaxxer whose tragic personal experience with a child’s early vaccine is both shocking and incredibly moving while shedding light (rightly or wrongly) into much of what lies behind the movement.
Perhaps the most down-to-earth member is their newest addition (as policy, the committee tries to include a new-to-the-school parent each year). Carina (Rita Cole) is a Black lesbian mom who’d recently moved to the Bay Area from Maryland and was looking for a school that would accommodate her very bright son who has an auditory processing disorder (trouble following speech, so learns best by reading).
Carina stuns the group by saying she hadn’t homeschooled him for kindergarten and was happy with the local public school. She’s there to observe and learn, though one sees how she finds some of the group’s conclusions rather strange. Still, to keep the peace, she at first ignores Suzanne’s intrusive implication that she’s a charity case who doesn’t pay full tuition (she does and will finally blow up at her racist notions later on). But Carina immediately gains our respect for asking logical questions, sticking to her guns where it counts, and not letting anyone railroad her into agreeing with their position.
I usually mention a little about how some actors approach their roles and their background, but here four active locals are such well-known and celebrated superstars already, I simply can’t single anyone out. Brandon Campbell, Rita Cole, Ted deChatelet and Maribeth Graham were all perfectly cast and instantly convinced us of who they enacted individually and as a recognizable “type.” Bravo to all for your masterful performances!
