Nice Girl (Rogue Machine's 2025 Production) Theatre Review

They say you can never go home again. But what if you never left? Would the natural growth and changes that should have occurred to both you and the place be impeded? And when is it too late to make those changes, to have that growth? In Nice Girl, written by Melissa Ross, Josephine Rosen is a 37-year-old woman who, apart from a few months of college, has never left home. She lives with her mother, Francine. With her twentieth high school reunion looming, she falls into an unexpected friendship with a coworker named Sherry and runs into an old classmate named Donny, who flirts with her, and these two events get her thinking about the possibility of change, that maybe it is not too late for her. Nice Girl was first produced a decade ago in New York, and is receiving its west coast premiere now at Rogue Machine Theatre, in the intimate upstairs space of the Henry Murray Stage. This production is directed by Ann Bronston, and stars Anaïs Fairweather as Josephine, Bailey Humiston as Sherry, Jeff Lorch as Donny, and Susan Peahl as Francine.

The set begins as a room in Francine's house, and is designed to make us feel a part of the world, for we are essentially in the room with the characters, the walls behind us being the walls of the room, with wallpaper and a window behind the folks stage left, and a turntable next to the people seated stage right. When Josephine and Francine enter, they are arguing, the kind of argument that reminds me of home. The play takes place in a suburb of Boston, and not the wealthy sort of suburb one might think of. And the argument is the sort that occurs between family members who spend perhaps too much time together. It is not long before Josephine threatens to leave. It is an empty threat, and Francine knows it. She replies, "Fine with me." We know it would not be fine with her, but feel that also perhaps a small part of her would want an end to what she labels as nagging. But then what would be left? What's important is that everything here is completely believable. We know these characters, and we like them immediately. We feel at home with them. And, because of the way the set is designed, we are at home with them.

When Sherry enters, the room becomes the break room at the office where she and Josephine work. And throughout the performance one room is quickly and convincingly transformed into several locations, including a butcher shop, a night club, and the porch outside of Josephine's home. Sherry is a ball of energy, the type that, if she allowed herself to stop for a moment, we fear would break down completely. She divulges personal information to Josephine, namely that she has learned the man she is dating is married and has kids. Josephine tries to keep up with the conversation, which is largely one-sided, and most of her responses seem to come out of kindness. But when Sherry describes her own situation as so depressing that she wants to kill herself, and adds, "Know what I mean," Josephine's "Yeah" is the first thing from her mouth that sounds totally sincere. Josephine has found an unlikely kindred spirit of sorts. So when Sherry declares they are going to say yes to everything, we in the audience begin to feel hope for Josephine.

When picking up food for that night, Josephine runs into an old high school classmate, Donny, who works as a butcher and is clearly having trouble dealing with his station in life. In addition to that dead-end job he has a marriage that is ending, but hasn't quite ended. He flirts somewhat awkwardly with Josephine, but that is enough for her to feel some spark, some life in her. Interestingly, early in that scene they discuss her troubles with veal, specifically that the meat is from babies that are taken away from their mothers. It is a hint that perhaps the reason for her still living at home is not entirely the fault of the mother, but something within herself. Neither she nor Donny is all that keen on going to the reunion at first, though both still feel a sort of pull toward it. Reunions generally cause folks to take a more critical look at their own lives, to compare where they are to where they had thought they'd be, something that is depressing for many people, as they come up terribly short. So what does one do when faced with such shortcomings? Blame someone else? Lie to people, telling them you're something you're not? It's a serious subject, and we in the audience can't help but think of our own lives, and the areas in which we have failed ourselves. We can't help but see ourselves in these characters. In a scene where Josephine is exercising, she tells her mother, "I'm not going anywhere," which is maybe the most heartbreaking line of all. This play would be terribly depressing if it weren't so damn funny, particularly its first half. This is the sort of the play that has the audience repeatedly laughing aloud.

A great deal of the joy of this play is due to the tremendous and captivating performances by all four members of the cast. There is not a single moment that doesn't ring true, because of their incredible talent, and each of these characters has difficult scenes. Perhaps because there is so much laughter, the scenes of ache and pain are all the more effective and affecting. Each of the characters is somewhat troubled, and the play does not offer easy solutions to any of them. Perhaps the most difficult scene is that where we learn Sherry, even though she's been betrayed by the man she's been dating, still wants to be with him. Normally we might expect a character in that situation to have gained enough pride in herself to lift her head and walk away. But that is just it: no one here is able to walk away. We might think of Josephine when early on she wonders if anyone is really happy. But maybe it is Francine's line to Josephine that stays with us, that life is not that bad.

Nice Girl runs through July 20, 2025. Visit the theater's website for the complete schedule. There is one short intermission. The scenic and lighting designer is Barbara Kallir. Sound design is by Christopher Moscatiello. Costume design is by Christine Cover Ferro. I should also mention the dialect coach, Lauren Lovett. I am from Massachusetts, and these actors totally nailed the dialect. Rogue Machine Theatre is located within the Matrix Theatre, at 7657 Melrose Ave. in Los Angeles, California.