PILLOW FIGHTS, PLOT TWISTS AND PARENTAL PANIC
If you like your family comedies with a hearty dose of mayhem, secrets, slapstick humor, and the occasional gymnastic leap off a sofa, Fostered at Pacific Resident Theatre delivers the goods.
Written by Chaya Doswell and directed by Andrew D. Weyman, Fostered is a lively world premiere that plays like a French farce crossed with an American dysfunctional family. Weyman, who calls it a “tonal jigsaw puzzle,” certainly isn’t kidding—there are eight characters, endless moving parts, and one revelation after another, all staged with breathless, caffeinated momentum.
Taubert Nadalini, Katy Downing, Hope Lauren, Terry Davis, Tony Pasqualini
Karen (Terry Davis) and Sandy Foster (Tony Pasqualini) have finally arrived at the empty-nest phase of life, but their dreams of peace and a move to Fiji or maybe Hawaii before Karen gets roped into “granny duty” are cut short when their four adult children start showing up, each carrying more baggage than the last. Sandy is content to let Karen steer the ship, though his creeping memory and hearing issues add a comic unpredictability to every conversation.
Hiram Murray, Hope Lauren
The Foster offspring represent a full spread of 21st-century dysfunction: Alice (Katy Downing), the seemingly perfect church-going mom living with husband Cal in North Carolina, hides an illicit affair; Jeremy (Taubert Nadalini), the successful finance bro, is also married and (ostensibly) trying for a baby (he isn’t trying all that hard to have a kid because, surprise, he’s gay); Rachel (Hope Lauren), a ferocious lawyer making six figures, brings along her boyfriend Daniel (Hiram A. Murray) and a bombshell of her own; and Maggie (Jillian Lee Garner), the family’s lovable screw-up millennial, exercising all the worst qualities of her generation, is the first to barge in during “the middle of the night” (meaning 7:30 PM) and will later end up piecing everyone’s problems together with a mind-bending, rapid-fire monologue—reminiscent of Lucky’s warp-speed monologue in Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot minus the nonsense words—that somehow makes sense of the chaos. (Garner earns every bit of her mid-show ovation.)
Jillian Lee Garner, Hope Lauren, Hiram Murray
There’s a lot of zany energy, and the actors put their all into these characters who, while mostly sympathetic, wear their entitlement proudly and feel that it was earned. Doswell creates a Sisyphean push to top the last twist with a new one, right up to the end. There are some very physical moments (imagine an adult pillow fight and chase scene, and gymnastic jumps on and off a couch) plus a few that are a kind of cringy. Complicating matters further is Shafeek (Satiar Pourvasei), a Syrian-Lebanese refugee turned “adopted son” who is happy to prove that his real-life travails are so much bigger than the issues the kids confront—compared to real global tragedies, their crises are a little… well, cushy. His presence spins the story in even wilder directions, especially once his own lusty desires are unleashed.
Terry Davis, Katy Downing
Doswell piles the absurdity higher and higher, in the best tradition of family farces, and while not every twist lands with perfect precision, the manic energy never flags. Pillow fights break out. Couch acrobatics ensue. Emotional grenades are lobbed—and then someone passes the chips and dip.
Weyman, with Assistant Director Lily Brown, keeps the pace brisk and the tone just shy of cartoonish. And how Scenic Designer Rich Rose and builder James Morris managed to pack so much set onto such a small stage is nothing short of a miracle—there’s a split-level house, with a staircase and landing, a downstairs bathroom where shenanigans will take place, an entry hall to allow for running in and running out of the house, a living room that’s still comfortable, if a bit worn, that’s seen decades of family growth and expansion, and a kitchen behind a door that provides an off-stage space where food and drink will help keep everyone fed and lubricated. Lighting by Michael Redfield is pretty straightforward; after all, we’re in a house, so how many different moods are needed to create that atmosphere? Keith Stevenson’s sound design gets plenty of comic mileage out of a running gag about dueling phone rings.
Terry Davis, Tony Pasqualini
Ultimately, Fostered succeeds not because it pretends these characters are saints, but because it understands they’re gloriously, stubbornly human. If you’re weary of message-heavy theatre and ready for a night of pure, madcap entertainment, Fostered is ready to welcome you with open arms—and probably a flying throw pillow.
There’s a reason for the laughs: Director Weyman and his wife Terry Davis lost their home in the Palisades fire. So did Satiar Pourvasei. They needed comic relief for themselves and wanted to share laughs with an audience who’s also dealing with an onerous zeitgeist. And Doswell wrote this play as a way to process her own divorce.
photos by Phil Cass
Fostered
Pacific Resident Theatre, 703 Venice Boulevard in Venice
115 minutes with intermission
Thurs-Sat at 8; Sun at 3
ends on June 15, 2025
for tickets ($35–$45; student rush $12), call 310.822.8392 or visit PRT
for more shows, visit Theatre in LA
