In the opening scene of “Eureka Day,” the five parents on the executive board of Berkeley’s fictional Eureka Day School sit around a semicircle of desks. They happen to be kids’ desks — we’re in a classroom — but the board has convened, as they do every week, to discuss matters of adult importance. Who’s paying for the new gender-neutral bathrooms? Is “transracial adoptee” a legitimate ethnic category? In an open relationship, is it possible to have an affair?
And the kicker: Should Eureka Day mandate the mumps vaccine?
Hackles are raised. Scones are served. Rumi is quoted. Don (Howard Swain), the well-meaning, if perpetually bewildered, head of school, reminds the board of their commitment not to change school policies without a full consensus. Granola mom Suzanne (Lisa Anne Porter) is all smiles. Certainly, she offers, no board member would ever consider revoking parents’ right to choose.
Cue the laughs. Surprisingly, Oakland-based playwright Jonathan Spector wrote “Eureka Day” prepandemic — the action unfolds during the 2018-2019 school year. Now, in Marin Theatre’s production, “Eureka Day” returns to its Bay Area roots, this time a bit more topical: same show, different world. Ignorant of the pandemic lurking just around the corner, the play lingers in a fog of impending doom.
In New York, where doomism is hip, the 2025 revival of “Eureka Day” soared, winning the Tony Award for Best Revival of a Play. At Marin Theatre, under the direction of Josh Costello, the play leans hard into the dramatic irony of an anti-vaccine drama happening before the COVID-19 pandemic.
Not that the play claims first dibs on the topic. Spector is explicit about situating the drama within an ongoing cultural conversation about parents who advocate for “alternative” medicine. “This isn’t fringe!” Suzanne cries at one point, defending some nugget of, well, fringe. “It was in the New Yorker!” Even so, there’s something anachronistic about the vaccine-opposing parents at Eureka Day, who, contra Suzanne, are pretty fringe-y. Their time hasn’t yet come.
Hence, there’s a bizarre sense that this whole drama is happening a few months too early. When the school closes for the mumps outbreak, the board invites parents to attend a virtual roundtable. In this staging, the chat screen is projected above the classroom, so we witness the fallout in real time. “Stop typing!” wails Don as the screen fills with typo-riddled insults and dubious theories about who really runs Big Pharma. What is this “Zoom” thing?
And yes, while it’s horrible that children are breaking out in mumps, it’s fun to watch their parents gradually lose their minds. As a stylist, Spector delights, faithfully reproducing the vernacular even while laying bare its contradictions. Consider that multipurpose gem, “yeah, no” — “Yeah, you said something, but no, I don’t agree,” and so on. Passive aggressive? Certainly. These parents are dedicated to liberal values and reasonable discussion. They insist sullenly on consensus — but there’s only so long you can pretend not to hate each other’s guts.
As an ensemble piece, “Eureka Day” rises and falls on the talents of its tiny cast. Suzanne, for instance, is a poster child for what writer Kathleen Belew calls “the crunchy to alt-right pipeline”: Follow one wellness influencer who makes their own toxin-free lotion, and before long, you’re inundated with anti-vaccination conspiracy content. Suzanne could easily be played as a silly caricature, but in the hands of Porter, she’s real, small and frightened. In one particularly humane moment, which really can’t be done justice without spoilers, Suzanne explains her skepticism of vaccination with reference to a tragedy in her past.
It’s sad and not at all stupid. It’s a virtue of this show that Suzanne earns our sympathy, fair and square. And it’s a reminder of who is vulnerable to being wooed by fearmongering: people in trouble.
“Eureka Day” runs at Marin Theatre in Mill Valley through Sept. 28. Tickets are available in person at the box office or online at marintheatre.org.
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