Michael Brosilow
Triney Sandoval, left, and La Shawn Banks, in "ART."
Triney Sandoval, left, and La Shawn Banks, in "ART," American Players Theatre, 2025.
“My friend Serge has bought a painting,” Marc (Triney Sandoval) tells the audience at American Players Theatre as the lights rise on the interior of a neutral-toned apartment. “It’s a canvas about 5 by 4: white. The background is white, and if you screw up your eyes, you can make out some fine white diagonal lines.”
Serge (Marcus Truschinski) soon bursts in, barely able to contain his excitement over the painting, draping himself over it as he tries to reveal its hidden dimensions. But Marc is anything but thrilled — he’s disturbed that one of his oldest friends has spent $200,000 on what he calls “a piece of white shit.” Who, exactly, is his dermatologist friend pretending to be?
When Marc drags their comically anxious mutual friend Yvan (La Shawn Banks) into the fray, the trio embarks on a disquietingly funny exploration of class, identity, and the fragility of friendship — a bond that may not survive the fallout.
Written by Yasmina Reza, Art premiered in Paris in 1994 and quickly garnered international acclaim, including a Tony Award. American Players Theatre’s production, directed by Jackson Gay, brings this modern classic to life with a deft understanding of the play’s emotional undercurrents.
Yvan, ever the people pleaser, tries to appease Marc: “If it makes him happy, he can afford it.” But the play asks deeper questions: What does happiness really mean? How far will we go to win acceptance — and at what cost?
The painting becomes a Rorschach test, reflecting each man’s sense of self and his place in the trio. Unwilling — or unable — to talk about their real issues, they use the painting as a proxy. With enough triangulation to make a family therapist dizzy (Yvan’s gives humorously obtuse advice from offstage), they begin to question the very foundation of their decades-long friendship.
As tensions rise, each man’s unhappiness comes into focus. Serge, recently divorced, seeks status through the art world. Marc, perpetually irritable, pops homeopathic pills from his girlfriend that do little to calm him. Yvan, stuck in a soul-sapping job (once in textiles, now in stationery) and facing marriage to a woman he may not love, is loudly unraveling. Their friendship has long been a refuge, but now it’s rapidly eroding under the weight of change, resentment and unmet expectations.
Art becomes not just the subject of their debate but a metaphor for how they view the world and one another. Scene transitions to each man’s apartment are marked by a different painting: Serge’s minimalist white canvas, Yvan’s rustic red mill painted by his father (dismissed by the others as “a motel painting”), and Marc’s sunset cityscape (“Carcassonne” he makes sure to tell the others), in an ornate gold frame. These visual cues underscore the gulf between their values and perspectives.
It’s a pleasure to watch these veteran actors spar in the intimacy of the Touchstone Theatre, where subtle facial expressions and nuanced delivery land with resonance. All three commit fully to their roles, with sweat glistening on Banks’ face by the final scenes. Still, Banks occasionally relies on broad physical comedy and exaggerated expressions better suited to the large audiences at the Hill Theatre. Yet in the hushed embrace of the Touchstone, I wished for a more nuanced performance.
At key moments, the lights dim and a spotlight isolates one man, allowing him to break the fourth wall and share his inner monologue. These moments offer raw honesty absent from their group dynamic, exposing the quiet wounds and unspoken fears behind the conflict. Like Serge’s nearly blank canvas, their silence carries a cost.
After days of bickering, the men agree to reconcile with dinner and a movie. But they never make it out the door — Marc and Serge’s tensions boil over once more. After a tensely funny standoff over olives, and a shocking leap of faith, the play ends with a glimmer of hope.
Beneath the biting humor and barbed insults, Art is a deeply human meditation on love, identity and impermanence. It reminds us that friendship, like modern art, is often ambiguous, subjective, and hard to define — but its value lies in the meaning we’re willing to find in it.
Art runs through Sept. 28 in the Touchstone Theatre.
