New Jersey Repertory Company's world premiere of Michael Tucker's 'Fern Hill'

Tucker, an accomplished actor and nascent playwright, attempts to chronicle a group of friends trundling unsteadily toward their golden years. These characters — hippies in the ‘60s, yuppies in the ‘80s, and financially secure almost-retirees today — should prove fertile ground to explore complicated topics that accompany the aging process: loyalty, companionship, and yes, physical pleasure.

But more often than not, Tucker reaches for the lowest-hanging fruit. If he set out to blend broad humor with urbane observations about human nature, a kind of Neil Simon/Edward Albee hybrid, the result resembles something closer to a schlocky sitcom. Think A Delicate Balance as written by Chuck Lorre.

Friends to the end

The play’s early scenes peer in on a weekend spent at a rustic country house owned by academics Sunny (Jill Eikenberry) and Jer (David Rasche). Their closest couple friends are also in attendance: quasi-bohemian artists Vincent and Darla (John Glover and Dee Hoty), and aging rock'n'rollers Billy and Michiko (Tom McGowan and Jodi Long).

The couples’ comfortable rapport and shared history lead them to hatch what sounds like an ingenious plan: sell their houses, move in together, and face the twilight of their lives as a unit, caring for each other without burdening their children.

If Tucker continued with this dramatic thread, his play might have been more interesting and certainly more insightful. Few dramatic works examine the sense of responsibility among senior citizens who form support networks as their friends, family, and loved ones dwindle away.

Sunny refers to the group as “orphans” at one point, and the comparison is poignant: their parents are gone, their children have lives of their own, and their most direct and reliable relationships come in the form of chosen families.

But the communal idyll turns out to be a red herring, as fake as Jane Parks’s attractive but flimsy faux-farmhouse set. The idea gets dropped entirely when Sunny, seemingly out of nowhere, intuits that Jer was unfaithful. Tucker doesn’t use infidelity to scrutinize why long-established marriages sometimes teeter on the brink of collapse; instead, he veers into sex-farce territory, with none of the characters seeming remotely sympathetic.

Stormy weather for Sunny

Jer rationalizes his two-timing by claiming that Sunny no longer enjoys sleeping with him, even though they do it every night. This argument reeks of gross male privilege; it’s quite clear Jer never once considered Sunny’s pleasure an essential part of their sex life. But because the play is written by an older straight white man, it feels imbued with unearned legitimacy. The talented Rasche injects a welcome sliminess into his performance, but it’s clear we’re meant to identify with and rationalize Jer’s bad behavior.

Sunny, for her part, mostly pouts. She resolves to leave Jer, but as the play wears on, his presence remains a constant — even as his treatment of her becomes horrendously boorish. I never got a sense why this woman who initially seemed so intelligent and invigorated wasn’t running for the door. I felt bad for Eikenberry, a naturally compelling actor saddled with a nearly unplayable role.

The friends seem largely invested in saving Sunny and Jer’s marriage to preserve group dynamics, their efforts culminating in an embarrassingly rendered consciousness-raising. Even in this context, Jer mostly remains the center of attention, again given the floor to rationalize his louche tendencies.

When someone finally stands up for Sunny, it’s too little, too late. What’s worse, Sunny never gets the chance to stand up for herself.

The supporting roles are all underwritten, and Nadia Tass’s weak direction does little to define relationships beyond the text. Her blocking is often mechanical and forced; no genuine intimacy flows among this gang.

As a writer, Tucker doesn’t possess the skill to define his characters beyond their most basic qualities. The play ends with trespasses forgiven and little learned. The audience, too, learns little about why this septuagenarian sextet cares so deeply for each other, and that’s the real shame.