Review: In “Natalie Portmans,” a flight of imagination is earthbound at Out Front

Given that Ovetta is mostly checked out or actively antagonistic, the two siblings struggle with the impossible choices typical of poverty, such as whether to buy food or make rent that month. Their father, who was once a stabilizing force in their lives, died of a sudden heart attack the year before, thus leaving Keyonna and Samuel shouldering the burden of making sure they don’t wind up homeless.

It’s easy to see, then, why Keyonna would seek out escape through the more simplistic cinematic sagas of the straight, white, beautiful heroines found in sappy tragedies like “A Walk to Remember,” which we learn our protagonist has seen multiple times. Keyonna aspires to one day move to Hollywood and craft stories for the actresses she’s placed on her “dream board,” prominently displayed in the living room that also serves as her bedroom.

The teen’s favorite actress is Natalie Portman, who — in a twist of magical realism — begins to appear as a kind of imaginary friend, dressed as different characters from her films, including “Black Swan,” “Garden State” and “The Professional.” Alas, it’s this element, which should serve as a kind of narrative glue, that leads to the biggest head-scratcher of all, which is: Has anyone involved in this production ever actually seen a Natalie Portman movie?

As the ghostly Portman, Anna Holland doesn’t project the actress’ mannerisms or vocal inflections. She could be anyone. And then there’s the fact that each film version of Portman is given basic treatment that often falls short of accuracy — something that, you have to think, a film nerd like Keyonna wouldn’t miss.

Ignoring the fact, first off, that “Black Swan” was released in 2010, a year after this play is set, the imaginary friend version of Portman’s tormented ballerina lacks any of the sinister, haunting qualities of that film. Also unacknowledged is that the movie features a sexual relationship between two women, which probably would have had weight for a teen who has only recently come out of the closet.

There are also smaller but still rankling discrepancies, such as when Portman’s manic pixie dream girl from “Garden State” reenacts the waiting room headphones scene with Keyonna (in place of Zach Braff) by playing her “Let Go” by Frou Frou rather than “New Slang” by the Shins, the song that’s integrally associated with that scene. Or when Keyonna (pretending to be Anakin Skywalker) and Portman’s Padme from the “Star Wars” prequels have a lightsaber battle, which doesn’t happen at all in those movies.

These critiques are not meant to be pedantic — this is not a CinemaSins YouTube video — but they do create a bit of a riddle as to why Portman serves as a through line in the show at all. Does Keyonna gravitate to Portman because she’s a chameleon, disappearing into her characters — a quality that a child growing up in an unpredictable, volatile living space must have to frequently do? Or is it Portman’s signature intensity toward her craft, which led to broken bones and severe weight loss while filming “Black Swan”? Perhaps that could mirror the intensity of life challenges Keyonna faces, or the intensity of being a teenager?

At one point, it seems as if perhaps the various iterations of Portman characters may reflect Keyonna’s state of mind, but nope to all these hypotheticals. Instead, we get random references speckled in briefly and infrequently without much in the way of metaphor or deeper understanding.

The script and direction issues are not helped by Out Front’s bland set design, which gives us little in the way of magic or wonderment. The first time we see the ghostly figure of Portman, in full-on “Black Swan” regalia, she just wanders in through one of the set’s closed doors, almost as if by accident. Sadly, judging from reviews of the off-Broadway production, which was cut short in 2020 due to the pandemic, this could have been radically different. As one reviewer for the Daily Beast described that production: “Portman emerges from panels in walls, and once, hilariously, from the fridge . . . " But there’s no such spectacle in the Atlanta staging.

It’s not all a wash, though. While the play doesn’t succeed in making the Portman references into anything more than a gimmick, it provides a very real and heartening demonstration of the perpetual trauma kids experience growing up in an alcoholic home.

Credit: Tyler Ogburn Photography

Credit: Tyler Ogburn Photography

The way that Johnson writes Ovetta, it’s clear that she wants to disarm the audience at first, much as those around alcoholics in the throes of their disease might at first underestimate the oncoming storm. When Ovetta is introduced, she jokingly reminisces about how she had to show little kid Keyonna “The Pelican Brief” to prove that Julia Roberts was still alive after her daughter saw Roberts’ character perish in “Steel Magnolias”: “You were crying because you thought a white woman was dead,” she guffaws.

But that scene abruptly descends into violence, with Ovetta’s abusive behavior cropping up in a way that makes it clear this is a longstanding pattern. In a nice acting touch, when Ovetta explodes, Parker doesn’t visibly or audibly get upset. Instead, she freezes and pulls everything in, making the protective walls go up in a way that’s observably heartbreaking.

Another highlight, which speaks to Johnson’s gift for realistic dialogue, is the funny and often moving sibling banter between Keyonna and Samuel. As affectionately embodied by Parker and Howard, the sister/brother dynamic is as comfortable and familiar as a worn-in shoe. Even when they’re poking fun at each other, it’s clear that they’ve got each other’s backs no matter what.

Sadly, there’s not much subtlety in Brown’s portrayal of drunk Ovetta, whom she imbues with such exaggerated stumbling and slurring that it verges on caricature. In reality, anyone who drinks to oblivion regularly would more likely have the practiced awareness of someone trying not to seem like they’re drunk. And that would have been more interesting than the goofy spectacle we get.

Overall, it’s a major letdown that a story so firmly rooted in the notion of escaping through one’s vivid imagination lacks creativity in its execution.

THEATER REVIEW

“All the Natalie Portmans”

Through Feb. 19. $15-$25. Masks required when not eating or drinking plus proof of vaccination or negative PCR test within 48 hours. Out Front Theatre, 999 Brady Ave. NW, Atlanta. 404-448-2755, outfronttheatre.com.

Alexis Hauk has written and edited for numerous newspapers, alt-weeklies, trade publications and national magazines including Time, the Atlantic, Mental Floss, Uproxx and Washingtonian magazine. Having grown up in Decatur, Alexis returned to Atlanta in 2018 after a decade living in Boston, Washington, D.C., New York City and Los Angeles. By day, she works in health communications. By night, she enjoys covering the arts and being Batman.

Credit: ArtsATL

Credit: ArtsATL

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