They say that there are no small parts, only small actors. What happens, though, when someone who has been made to feel small feels the warmth of the spotlight? That irresistible feeling of holding everyone’s attention and hoping that you earn their applause. All eyes are on you for your big moment. Jesse Eisenberg’s The Debut proves one mighty thing: what happens when a tiny part in a community theater production of a beloved musical becomes the role of a lifetime?
No one pays attention to Mona Friedman. Her kids don’t give her the time of day, and her husband, Howard, neglects her so much it feels like he is going out of his way to do it on purpose. When Mona and Howard go out to dinner with their friends, they talk all over here. When she announces that she is going to audition for a local musical, she is met with a bit of encouragement, but we know these people probably think anything of her participation. By now, you know that Mona is embodied by Julianne Moore, who has delivered extraordinary performances as women who people second-guess, count out, or ignore: please see Laura Brown, Gloria Bell, and, of course, Cathy Whitaker.
There is a softness that Moore can channel in her voice that makes her feel like she doesn’t want to take up too much space or Mona apologizes for being in the way. When she auditions for the role of Miss Danielle, the New York City apartment building super in Nosy Neighbors (all original songs written by Eisenberg), she is met warmly by some of the company’s regular actors, played by Halle Bailey, Bonnie Milligan, Colton Ryan, and Eisenberg. At first, Mona doesn’t get the part, but Bernadette Peters’ Serena Cherry, the illustrious, “allegedly” difficult-to-work-with diva, declines the part due to its size. Since no one else auditioned for the role, Mona lands the part.
When rehearsals begin, things do not go well. Mona knows her lines and her entrances, but she isn’t giving what needs to be given. That begins to scratch at Paul Giamatti’s Jerry, who is notoriously hard on his actors because he knows what he wants to get out from them. You don’t rise to prominence in the New Jersey community theater scene without a reputation, after all!
The relationship between Mona and Jerry is the first of many surprises that Eisenberg utilizes in The Debut, even though Giamatti can deliver delicious zingers with his tone or his eyes. We anticipate a snarling tyrant in the darkness of the rehearsal room, snarling at Mona because she has literally no expertise or experience. Rather than this story becoming one about a sheepish person finding themselves by Jerry scolding, berating or battling his novice, the director takes a genuine interest in Mona as a person and why she shrinks herself. He asks her questions about her home life and how she views the perception of Miss Danielle. Sure, he wants his show to be a success, but he also knows that teaching her and helping her will benefit the show more than swinging his ego around.
As Mona becomes more devoted to the role of Miss Danielle, we have to think about her as a person and what being on that stage will mean to her. She wants to prove herself, and she wants to be seen. It also doesn’t hurt that she loves musicals and wants to perform well for her fellow castmates and make Jerry proud. When Mona has her breakthrough, alone with Jerry on stage, is brought the Telluride world premiere audience to a fever pitch of excited, rapturous applause. The way that Eisenberg handles the ride of that monologue alone shows his dedication to elevating the humor but honoring Mona’s journey.
Is there a thing as being too confident? When Mona settles her nerves and can really dig into Miss Danielle’s backstory, she becomes with obsessed with realism and how to honor the super’s life before creeping towards full-tilt method. Imagine if, say, the actress who plays Cinderella’s Mother from Into the Woods (who sings one song) became obsessed with the taxonomy of trees and wanted to rewrite the lyrics of Stephen Sondheim’s musical to help the character feel more true and real. The Debut begins as a gentle, musical character study before climbing diving headfirst into kooky territory through the eyes of a woman whose determination and optimism outweighs her perspective. Like Jerry’s encouragement, the film swings left when we imagine it will go right as it edges towards the more absurd, the zany. There is a sequence where Jerry asks Mona to enter an unknown apartment building in order for her to channel Miss Danielle’s gumption, and Mona accepts the challenge before they have a heartbreaking exchange on the ride home.
With a career as storied and impressive as Moore’s, it’s bizarre for me to admit that you have never seen her like this before. Mona has to work through her discomfort–both emotionally and physically–and Moore doesn’t hide anything. When her character has a voice lesson with the show’s musical director, he encourages her to move about the room, and her movement is spiky and stiff as she kicks and tries to extend her arms. Moore embraces the silly and the sadness but, most importantly, she welcomes Mona with uninhibited, meteoric joy. Not only will you fall in love with her character, but you will wish you could be a real-life, dedicated fan.
The Debut is silly, giddy, and riotously funny. At the same time, though, it never loses its compassion. It proves that we never know what we are capable of until we are thrust forward, expected to speak (or sing) and let that honesty rage forth.
A24 will release The Debut in theaters on December 11.
