Trust: Don't Trust Those with Trust Funds

Trust, this season's mainstage opener at 2nd Stage Theater, begins on a spare stage. Large and embossed with some kind of metal, it feels like a dungeon. The only item present is a weird contraption hanging from the ceiling. Harry (Zach Braff) wanders on to the stage, just as surprised by these tools as we are. It's his first visit to a dominatrix, and he doesn't know what to expect. What he finds out is that the he is not a huge fan of dominatrix activities, and that dominatrixes are just like normal people. Indeed, Mistress Carol turns out to be Prudence Teller (Sutton Foster) from Harry's high school class. The power roles switch -- the first of many such switches -- as Harry reveals that he knows Prudence's real name.

Harry, it turns out, is quite an accomplished businessman who sold an internet start up for $300 million. He tells Prudence that he's looking to be dominated "on a whim." Perhaps he was bored. The writer Paul Weitz, who is better known for his screenplays (In Good Company), turns this potentially cliched idea of a rich man bored by his own wealth into a deeper character study in Trust. Prudence and Harry, both easily typed upon first meeting as a person who needs to dominate because of daddy issues and a person who needs to be dominated because everything came too easily to him, may actually be just the opposite.

Indeed, Harry, who appears to have an "aw-shucks" quality about him, immediately asks Prudence to help him manipulate his wife. Harry invites Prudence over to help him evaluate his wife without telling her that she's a dominatrix. Is Harry just a thoughtful husband, protecting his wife, or a controlling one?

Prudence does an odd 180 soon after. In one of the next scenes, Prudence asks her boyfriend, Morton (Bobby Cannavale), for rent money. He has just come back from gambling and hands her all his cash. When this isn't enough, she demands the balance. Morton immediately flies into a rage, twisting Prudence's body by her hair, and wrestling her down for some anger-fueled sex. "You love me," Morton repeats. Prudence seems to give in quite easily, making us wonder if she actually enjoys being dominated in this way and losing control over situations.

Prudence and Harry's significant others are just as complicated as their counterparts. Harry's wife Aleeza (Ari Graynor) is more than just a depressed housewife who hasn't accomplished anything. As we get closer to the truth of why she hasn't accomplished anything with her painting, we learn that Harry has played a bigger role in her apathy than it may first seem. Similarly, Morton is a book smart person--"I got a 1560 on the SATS"--who now spends all his time sitting around, trying to make a quick buck.

However, there's no time to develop sympathy for these characters. Although the characters are more complicated than they first appear, Weitz doesn't really reveal their depth until the end, when--in fits of genius--the characters figure each other out. The figuring out, however, felt like an exercise in hide the ball. Like Agatha Christie forcing us to try to figure out her killers' motives all the while hiding vital information from us until the end, Weitz makes each of his characters a therapist for another one, revealing their motivations to themselves and to us. For all the flaws of this style, however, it does make for delicious voyeurism.