Dry Powder @ Second Thought Theatre
Photo Credit: Karen Almond
—Martha Heimberg
If you are somehow still ignorant of the cruelties of capitalism and the human greed it feeds on, then Dry Powder, Sarah Burgess’s 2016 dark comedy-drama, is a great introduction to the way private equity firms grab up flagging family businesses, downsize the life and employees right out of them, sell for the maximum profit, and move directly down the slope to hell. Designed by Ayn Rand with a reverse mortgage held by Martin Friedman. Bracing!
Second Thought Theatre artistic director Carson McCain directs the company’s tight, 100-minute production with swift acuity on Drew Wall’s elegant circular platform, making it the center of the financial universe in the show’s intimate theater-in-the round configuration. The timely satire evokes both cringes and nervous laughter, as the world‘s billionaire population grows at an accelerating rate and the rest of us figure out how to better serve the profit gods or shut up. Oh, we already do. Sorry.
“Dry powder” (ref. Investopedia.com) refers not to the joy of the downhill skier, but to the liquid assets that work like cash to enable a cool guy like Rick (Jakie Cabe in Ruthless Smiler gear), the founder of KMM Management, to “buy companies, increase their value, then exit.” Rick is fretting about his company’s plummeting stock after a New York Times story about his lavish engagement party, held right after he sold off a local company and left hundreds of people jobless. “C’mon. It was just one elephant,” he says of the mean-spirited media. Rick just wants to find more dry powder and get back in the game. That simple. Sort of. But how to make the most money on the latest deal? Rick’s top two analysts have differing views about that.
Seth (a warm, bright-eyed Marcus Pinon) has courted the CEO of a faltering family-owned luggage company in California for months, and has come up with a great price and strategy for growth based on making high-end custom suitcases. Jenny (a chill, unflinching Samantha Potroykus), a colleague who sneers at Seth’s sentimental streak, recommends that KMM sell the luggage headquarters, fire everyone, ship production to Bangladesh, sell to Asian mass markets, and execute her exit strategy. Most money. Best analysis. Done.
What’s poor rich Rick to do? Turns out, that bad press about the party hit him hard in the money balls. He needs to find more uninvested capital to do any kind of deal—and who cares where it comes from? There are no regulations on the investor end of the dry powder supply chain in this marketplace.
For sure, Burgess hammers home the point: sheer economic logic demands that Rick pursue maximum profit, and follow Jenny’s plan. Certainly, Potroykus’s robotic Jenny, with a swing of her long locks and the bare hint of a self-congratulatory smile, makes an airtight case for the most profitable course, and the devil take those jealous, whiny protesters who march on Wall Street.
But there’s something to be said for the good will created by Seth’s plan, especially when we meet Jeff (a dark-eyed, huggable Omar Padilla), the sunny CEO of the Sacramento luggage company, who clearly likes this smart, eager young financier. Jeff tells stories about how his employees volunteer for charity and play softball with him and each other. Like a family. This guy definitely would never go for a deal that threatened that generational trust. Would he?
Like Seth, I felt a little battered down by Jenny’s relentless high finance jargon and smug response to any appeal to the strengths of humane deal making. The dicey fun of the show rises in the hostile exchanges between empathetic Seth and edu-snob Jenny. She’s done some digging, and her G.M.A.T. score is perfect compared to Seth’ not-quite-there performance. Anyhow, he graduated from Yale, “a second-tier Ivy” as she puts it. This from a heartless woman who’s only real struggle is to come up with a personal anecdote for an NYU lecture invite. Like from a human point of view? Really?
What will happen when push comes to shoving that letter of intent into Jeff’s hands? Are there any smart guys left in the marketplace—who are also good guys?
There will not be a test following the performance, but Dry Powder will get you thinking hard and restlessly about the continuing crisis of America’s income inequality and crumbling manufacturing industries. Take your investment counselor along. She’ll laugh her head off.
WHEN: Through April 30
WHERE: 3400 Blackburn Street, Dallas (Bryant Hall on the Kalita Humphreys campus)
