Big laughs, hard truths: Citadel Theatre delivers both in hilarious ‘Eureka Day’

“Eureka Day” ― 4 stars

“That was one of the funniest things I’ve seen in ages,” an audience member exclaimed during the intermission for Citadel Theatre’s revival of “Eureka Day,” Jonathan Spector’s incisive 2018 satire on wokeism.

Agreed. Director Scott Westerman’s swift, savvy production delivered the most laughs I’ve experienced since TimeLine Theatre and Broadway in Chicago staged the regional premiere of “Eureka Day” here last January.

Most of the action unfolds in the cheery library of an elite private school in Berkeley, California, (the set is by Bob Knuth) where affirmation posters and a progress pride flag hang on the wall and the shelves contain books with titles like “A is for Activist.”

As the school year commences, a mumps outbreak sparks a battle among the school’s executive board (and the larger Eureka Day “community”) over vaccines vs. parental choice, individual freedom vs. collective responsibility.

The wonderfully flustered, very funny Steve McDonagh plays Don, a natural peacemaker and head of Eureka Day, whose students are easy to spot because as one parent remarks, “at soccer games they’re the ones who cheer when the other team scores.”

Spector uses a discussion over whether to add “transracial adoptee” to the drop-down list of ethnic identities on the school application to introduce Don and his fellow board members. The school board’s bylaws require them to make decisions by consensus (or not at all).

The board is made up of progressive, privileged parents, including devoted president Suzanne (Jennifer Ruffner). A co-founding parent and a library benefactor, Suzanne’s vaccine beliefs stem from a family tragedy she discusses with Carina in the play’s most poignant scene.

The pragmatic newcomer and the board’s only Black member, Carina (Alexis Primus), quietly endures the microaggressions from fellow parents, who assume her son attends the school on scholarship. Single mom Meiko (Carmen Liao) is an anti-vaxxer whose position evolves after she acknowledges her own hubris. Eli (Ethan Check), Meiko’s married lover, is a tech bro millionaire turned stay-at-home-dad whose son contracts the mumps from an infected classmate.

The disease spreads, revealing that nearly half the students are unvaccinated and resulting in public health officials placing the school under quarantine. To determine the school’s response, Don and the board arrange a livestream meeting with parents, whose comments — ranging from inane and irrelevant to misinformed and combative — are projected overhead in a live chat feed.

A hilarious conclusion to act one, the scene sparked laughter so loud and so persistent it drowned out much of the dialogue, something the playwright anticipated and approved, according to his stage directions.

The script reflects the playwright’s keen ear for modern dialogue and progressive jargon. The characters talk about “holding space,” “feeling seen,” “being othered.” In their efforts to build consensus, they frequently use the hedge phrase “no yeah” as a way to simultaneously disagree with and affirm another person’s opinion. Of course, those niceties disappear when tempers flare.

These folks are flawed, not bad, which Don acknowledges when he insists that “no one in this room is a villain.” Spector makes clear his characters’ good intentions and social conscience. But he also points out in sharp detail their condescension, bias, mansplaining and virtue-signaling. He humanizes their hypocrisy, and in so doing, grants them a bit of grace.

Westerman’s well-rehearsed cast ably navigates that liminal space between agreeable and insufferable where the “Eureka Day” characters (and their many well-meaning, real-life counterparts) live.

Ultimately, what makes “Eureka Day” so deliciously entertaining is how deftly it skewers illiberal liberals and their oppressive progressivism.

Case in point is Don’s insistence that “ALL POV = VALID.”

Primus’ Carina counters with a telling observation.

“Everyone’s point of view is not equally valid like All of the Time,” she says.

And on that we can all agree.

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Location: Citadel Theatre, at the west campus of the Lake Forest School District, 300 S. Waukegan Road, Lake Forest, (847) 735-8554, ext. 1, or citadeltheatre.org

Showtimes: 7:30 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays and 3 p.m. Sundays through Oct. 11. Also 1 p.m. Sept. 30.

Tickets: $53.40

Running time: About 2 hours, with intermission

Parking: Free in the adjacent lot

Rating: For teens and older, some adult language and subject matter