I went to see Eric Bogosian’s Talk Radio on Broadway expecting a witty portrayal of the industry in which I’ve worked for six years, and I was not disappointed. However, as the play is set in 1987, I didn’t expect it to make such a profound statement about today’s political and cultural climate.
The decision to resurrect Talk Radio in 2007, twenty years after its debut, is an inspired one. The modern day version, set in a post-Reagan-era Cleveland, stars Liev Schreiber as the egomaniacal late night talk show host Barry Champlain, who struggles to hold it together on-air on the night he learns a major media corporation is interested in syndicating his show for national broadcast.
For the entire two hour production, Champlain monopolizes the stage as he sits virtually alone at his mic (besides a few supporting characters, which frankly are not needed). He’s pissed off at America, but on this night, no one wants to talk about it. Much to his vexation, the callers range from the deranged (Chet, a neo-Nazi threatening death to the Jewish host) to the hopeless (Lynn, a sixteen-year-old left pregnant by an older man). Even with references to the Iran-Contra affair, and Champlain’s recurring avowal that “this country is going to pieces,” no one will bite.
It is Champlain’s wrathful responses to the callers that drive his show, and the play. No one escapes Champlain’s contempt. (To an African American caller: “I love black people, I think everyone should own one.” To Bob the paraplegic: “Gotta run! I know you can’t, but we can!”) He is sick and tired of the stupidity around him, scornful of those callers who keep him in work, and equal parts narcissistic and self-loathing.
The very nature of Champlain’s show – reality entertainment – serves as a vehicle for Bogosian’s derision of the triviality and self-absorption of American culture. Twenty years on, the circus that takes the stories of the pathetic and parades them as entertainment has only grown. Watching how dismal reality entertainment was in 1987 only compounds the wretchedness of its enormous success today.
Moreover, the scorching tirades of Champlain as he unleashes his fury and disappointment at America onto his listeners serves as a sobering reminder of just how little political progress we’ve made, if any. Two decades have passed, and we’re angry about the same things as Bogosian’s character. There’s another Bush in the Oval office. We’re fighting the same fight in the Gulf with no end in sight. One listener whines that Iran is all she hears about, and it’s hard to recall a day that Iran didn’t make the front page. Whether it’s reality shows or the war in Iraq, we don’t ever seem to learn our lesson.
Rather than dating his work, Bogosian’s choice to present the reprise version of Talk Radio in the context of its original era only enhances the cultural message; if Champlain was pissed then, he’d be outraged now.
–Julia Clarke
