Eagle Theatre presents Jason Robert Brown's 'The Last Five Years'

Cathy (Jenna Pastuszek), the wife, begins the show under the cloud of divorce, progressing backward to a joyous first date. Her husband Jamie (Max Meyers) takes the opposite course. They meet in the middle for their wedding, but otherwise orbit each other, alternating songs of happiness and melancholy, promise and defeat.

All's fair?

The show also chronicles their professional successes and failures, which take a toll on their union. Jamie gains success as a novelist in his early 20s, earning praise and plaudits as “the savior of writing.” (Brown himself had a musical on Broadway and won a Tony Award before his 30th birthday.)

Cathy’s acting career doesn’t catch fire in quite the same way — she’s largely relegated to unsuccessful auditions and unfulfilling summer-stock gigs. Spousal jealousy and resentment occupy a significant amount of the story.

Ed Corsi’s production updates the material to the present day, although some unwelcome anachronisms remain. How, for example, could John Updike write an anointing review of Jamie’s first novel when he died in 2009? And what modern 23-year-old — for whom an iPhone is practically an appendage — would still use a paper datebook? These errors suggest a need for more careful editing or for the musical to remain a period piece.

More problematic in 2018 are the show’s sexual politics. Brown based Jamie and Cathy’s relationship on his failed first marriage (his first wife sued to block its premiere), and one can’t help but feel he stacks the deck in Jamie’s favor. His success seems both preordained and deserved, while Cathy’s floundering turns her into a resentful, bitter harridan.

One-sided view

We see Jamie charming agents and giving readings, flourishing in his identity as a writer. We never see Cathy act, except for a series of abortive auditions that reveal little talent or integrity. The covert message is that he’s the real deal and she’s a hanger-on. When Jamie predictably cheats, it’s more than a foregone conclusion — Brown practically suggests it’s a mark of sanity.

To her credit, Pastuszek’s performance largely avoids stereotype. She doesn’t exactly buff Cathy’s negative aspects, but in her portrayal, they don’t come across as fatal flaws. Her Cathy is deeply in love with her husband and feels misunderstood and underestimated.

Pastuszek starts the night on a high with “Still Hurting,” the musical’s best song and perhaps one of the most painful chronicles of a breakup I’ve ever heard. It’s Cathy’s private reckoning with her failure as a wife, but this production, unfortunately, chooses to bring Jamie onstage for most of the number. Intended or not, a choice like this subtly reinforces Jamie’s supremacy in the story.

The relationship also feels unbalanced because Meyers doesn’t have the vocal chops the role requires, singing under pitch most of the night, and never convinces as a cocksure literary hotshot.

Spinning outward

The production itself balances simplicity and spectacle — sometimes fortuitously, sometimes not. Set design is credited to four people (Corsi, Ted Wioncek III, Ernie Jewell, and Chris Miller) and often has the feel of too many cooks in the kitchen. An overreliance on projections, depicting everything from Jamie and Cathy’s boxed-up apartment to the boat basin in Central Park, distracts from the story taking place at center stage.

Also distracting is the rotating platform that spins Jamie and Cathy into and out of the past. Although the idea makes sense — it resembles a clock face, turning them toward their fate — the noisy mechanics often blurred the singing and offstage band, sensitively led by Jason Neri.

The Last Five Years is beloved by many — I wouldn’t count myself in that group, although I find some of the music appealing and some of the storytelling effective. But I can’t quite overcome my aversion to its questionable dramaturgy.

In her final song, Cathy sings that Jamie “wants the last word” — and the show, of course, gives it to him. He also gets the last image: himself, alone and free. Is that an honest portrait of a problematic marriage? I’m not so sure.