Meet Caroline, a brilliant and inquisitive nine-year-old, whose keen awareness is a direct result of growing up in a home marked by addiction. Even though her mother, Maddie, has maintained sobriety since Caroline’s infancy, this child possesses an uncanny ability to detect even the slightest hint of trouble.
It never once crossed Caroline’s mind to question why she had no maternal grandparents. As far as she knew, they were long gone.
“Metaphorically speaking,” Maddie corrects her, revealing the surprising truth of their existence. Maddie and Caroline, who lost her father at a very young age, are now facing a silent, urgent crisis. They desperately need security and a fresh start. Maddie clings to the hope that her wealthy parents might finally offer a lifeline.
Preston Max Allen’s powerful new play, ‘Caroline,’ premiering at MCC Theater, introduces us to Maddie (Chloë Grace Moretz) and Caroline (River Lipe-Smith) in a humble Ohio diner. At first glance, they appear to be just another tired working-class mother and daughter on a long journey, contemplating an all-day breakfast menu. However, a closer look reveals Caroline’s arm in a sling—a recent injury, a bone broken in a fit of rage by Maddie’s former partner, forcing their desperate escape from West Virginia.
Under David Cromer’s exquisitely sensitive direction, the details of their challenging circumstances slowly emerge. Yet, what instantly captivates is the profound connection between them. Maddie’s fierce protectiveness, coupled with Caroline’s seemingly ordinary childhood demeanor, reveals a bond as vital and indispensable as life itself.
Back at the diner, Caroline’s youthful desires are palpable – a brownie from the waitress (an easy yes), a Nintendo Switch from her mom (a polite no). Then, with tender deliberation, Maddie poses a question that shifts everything: “Do you have any thoughts on what you want your name to be?” It’s in this moment that we discover Caroline, the name she ultimately chooses, is transgender, and this journey marks her first opportunity to truly embrace her authentic self.
Their path soon leads them to the doorstep of Maddie’s childhood home in upscale Evanston, Illinois, a Chicago suburb. (Lee Jellinek’s muted set design beautifully captures the atmosphere.) Here, Maddie’s mother, Rhea (Amy Landecker), is as stunned by Caroline’s existence as Caroline was by her grandmother’s. It becomes clear that the relationship between Maddie and Rhea (and Maddie’s absent father, currently on a business trip) had been irrevocably severed long before Caroline was ever born.
Maddie has previously shared with Caroline the painful history of her teenage years, marked by addiction and significant thefts from her parents. Rhea, portrayed as emotionally reserved and impeccably dressed, recounts these periods as the most agonizing of her life, consumed by fear for her daughter and a deep sense of powerlessness. (David Hyman designed the costumes, Robert Pickens the hair and wigs, and Suki Tsujimoto the makeup.)
Trust between Maddie and Rhea is non-existent. Yet, for the vulnerable Caroline, a fragile hope emerges: perhaps they can find a way to neutralize the bitterness that permeates their every exchange. They genuinely attempt to do so.
Delivered with exquisite naturalism by its three-person cast, this intimate and keenly observed play offers insightful commentary not only on transgender identity and acceptance but also on the complexities of addiction, the arduous path to recovery, the stark realities of wealth and class, intricate family dynamics, and the challenging commitment to living an entirely honest life. For Caroline, this profound honesty has always meant living as a girl.
The play’s profound commitment to honesty makes it particularly sensitive to any missteps, such as a few lines delivered by Caroline that feel more like a playwright’s bid for humor than genuine character thought. Even more problematic is a dramatic, late-stage plot twist that feels forced, as if Allen abruptly seized control of his characters’ destinies. (A gentle spoiler alert is advised.)
Rhea remains somewhat inscrutable; perhaps she has always been a rigid, unyielding figure in her marriage. Her agreement to her husband’s extreme conditions for assisting Maddie and Caroline might, in some contexts, be anticipated. However, it strains belief that Maddie wouldn’t immediately challenge the clear and profound harm her parents’ scheme would inflict upon Caroline.
From a dramaturgical perspective, this twist feels convenient: tension is artificially heightened, and compassion is unevenly distributed. ‘Caroline,’ a play previously lauded for its beautiful nuance, is diminished by this choice.
“Caroline” is running through November 16 at MCC Theater in Manhattan. The running time is 1 hour and 30 minutes.