The Hard Problem
Written by Tom Stoppard
Directed by Jack O’Brien
Lincoln Center Theatre Company
October 25, 2018
Production website
💉💉 out of 5.

In all my theatre going days, I don’t think I have ever been to the FIRST preview of any play.  The very first time a New York audience was going to see the play – pretty cool!  I was surprised to see the imperfections I did see a few.  Light cues were bringing up lights on audience members when the audience was not involved in the story.  It certainly made a few people last night very self conscious as they were pointed out in plain view for several minutes.  Set pieces got spun around to face the wrong direction and there were a few traffic jams with all the cast moving too much furniture around this thrust stage.

And, of course, Tom Stoppard, the playwright of the night was seated only a few rows behind me guarding his baby from all the season subscribers at the Lincoln Center.  But more on that later.

Question number one for the play – – what is the “problem” of the title The Hard Problem.  The “problem” is how consciousness can be explained through a study of our brains.  Are we just a construct of neurons, biology, or neurons, or do we dare to include religion and philosophy in the discussion?  The Hard Problem is a tough, tough erudite debate between the why and what of the brain.  It takes place in a brain institute as a young woman works her way up the career path with the premise that our brains are just way more sophisticated then we have ever given them credit for – – but the debate on this topic follows her every minute on the stage: from the office, to dinner parties, to an outside smoke to sex with her boyfriend really stretches believability.  Does one really need to talk shop all the time?

In the past I have seen Stoppard’s work and politely nodded in the lobby as others were figuring out what they had just seen.  I didn’t want to appear stupid.  BUT this play I got.  I followed the vocabulary and the ideas, concepts and metaphors – so good for me winning the award for the smartest guy in my row.  But what happened to the play?  It was all one long science/religion debate barely strung on a family drama of young promiscuity, adopted children and regrets.  You could barely tell there were people underneath all the words.  Even when they stripped naked they were talking neuroscience.  I didn’t care about the people, I didn’t care about their struggles.  I just kept high-fiveing myself for every bit of science I could unscramble.  

I did look over last Mr. Stoppard as the play reached its conclusion.  No one stood – polite clapping.  Mr. Stoppard clapped a bit more than the rest of us.