The Hills of California

Written by Jez Butterworth

Directed by Loretta Greco

The Huntington

9/12/2025 – 10/12/2025

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Primary Trust

Written by Eboni Booth

Directed by Dawn Simmons

Speakeasy Stage

9/12.2025 – 10/11/2025

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That theater holds a mirror up to the face of society is ever-true. So, in this moment of global retrenchment and nativist fear, it’s no surprise that two major productions of the fresh season reflect domestic insularity. Each presumes our traumas are locked within our family histories, and our catharsis must emerge from the same source. Beyond that, similarities end.

Anyone who’s ever pedaled the hills of California can appreciate their unique geography. Undulating knolls of brown grass, speckled with scrub trees. Distinct, yet not difficult to navigate. Brimming with fertile promise, for given only modest rain, the hills burst into bloom, and thus fulfill the promise—the Golden State fantasy—that California offers every drifter and dreamer.

According to the Johnny Mercer hit song, “the hills of California are something to see…you’ll settle down forever and never stray from the view.” In Jez Butterworth’s The Hills of California, we never get anywhere near the view. We’re trapped in The Sea View Luxury Spa Resort in Blackpool, England, which is not luxury, has no spa, nor any sea view. It’s 1976, when four sisters come together to attend their dying mother. And also 1955, when their younger versions are being molded into their mum’s vision of the Andrews Sisters.

This being a Huntington production, the production values are grand. When the set is revealed, the audience gasps and applauds. Again when it rotates. For me, it’s all too polished. The Sea View is supposed to be old and crotchety. I want the set to sag, to creak when it turns, to reveal the weary tediousness of Blackpool life. Similarly, the double set of stairs leading to the sick room are too tall. I suppose the exaggerated height implies heaven, but the reality is when the cast climbs up or down, their journey turns comedic. In fact, the entire opening scene is played so broad the cast seems hellbent on delivering comedy, when something quite the opposite is in store.

The production finds its bearings, and begins to sing, when we slip back to 1955 and Allison Jean White appears as Veronica, the mother. She is astonishing, both in her devotion to her daughters and her ability to sell them short. Ms. White delivers a bravura performance, singlehandedly balancing the comedy and chaos. She grounds everything.

1955 Cast. Photo by Lisa Voll.

The Hills of California has a cast of thirteen, playing 23 different characters. I suppose the intention is to illustrate chaotic family life, but except for the one male essential to triggering the mother and sisters’ trauma, the extra bodies seem secondary. The four sisters and their mother—then and now—are the main event. Why all the rest?

Despite my sense that The Hills of California includes more than needed to tell its story, I was completely moved by the final scene, when generations mingle and the music perfectly dovetails with their shared trauma, and mutual catharsis. You can feel welcome moisture bringing the brown hills to vivid life.

Speakeasy’s Primary Trust is a simple production. A few elements scattered along the Roberts Theatre’ wide stage represent a book store, a bank, a Tiki bar in small town in Upstate New York. Four actors total. Lines of dialogue trail off without resolution, causing audience members to fill in the blanks. A regular ‘ping’ triggered from beyond (like someone entering a local shop) designates a change of scene, or tone, or time. Spread over a taut eighty minutes..

Kenneth is a peculiar man, likely on every medical spectrum. Twenty years working in a book store, when the owner retires and shutters the place. Anxious, he spends every evening drinking Mai Tai’s with his friend Bert. Only Bert’s not real. Kenneth is, in truth, alone. Sometimes he’s aware of his invention. But when flummoxed, Kenneth retreats to Bert, who truly offers good counsel.

Buoyed by Bert, Kenneth finds another job. He succeeds at it. Until he doesn’t. A spectacular meltdown leads to a gradual reckoning of Kenneth’s youthful trauma and the reality of who Bert was, when once he was real (no more spoiler alert from me).

Local actor Janelle Grace portrays multiple female characters with her usual aplomb, and David J. Castello is phenomenal as Kenneth. His closing monologue is brilliant: a man aware of himself finding catharsis in the only family he has left. Himself.

Janelle Grace and David J. Castillo. Photo by Benjamin Rose Photography.

If you seek catharsis in a hub-bub of oddballs who come together in harmony, go to The Hills of California. If instead you want to experience the satisfaction of one man settling inner peace, see Primary Trust. Either or both, you will be moved.