Victor Williams, Andrea Syglowski, Maxine Linehan, and Luigi Sottile Photo by Mikki Schaffner

The show opens with a bombastic run-through of a ridiculous segment with talk show host Brenda (Andrea Syglowski) as a very latter-day George Washington, wearing a tri-cornered hat and waving an American flag as sonic bombs are bursting in air. She's self-centered and cock-sure of her opinions, even though they are obviously wrongheaded. She argues with Serge (Kieran Cronin), her confident but beleaguered producer, about a guest he's booked for their special live iteration of her talk show, a last ditch effort to grab more audience share. She disdains a Nobel laureate in economics with expertise relevant to the show's topic: a "Global Minimum Wage." Brenda orders Serge to replace him with someone more "lively" than a dry academic, despite the fact that the opening of the live broadcast is just minutes away.

Brenda's other guests are predictable talking heads representing various points on the political compass. Malcolm (Victor Williams) is an erudite, best-selling author who's a counterintelligence expert on what Brenda calls the "Unholy Land." He also checks off a box by being a Black man. Simone (Maxine Linehan) is a beautiful,privileged Irish actress with liberal, bleeding-heart, outspoken views on most everything. Jonathan (Luigi Sottile), an uber-conservative podcaster, host of "The World We Don't Want to Live in," is the offensively smug firebrand who manages to get under everyone's skin.

Serge brings forward his last-minute replacement guest: Micaela (Viviana Valeri), who goes by "Mike," the pleasant custodian for the network headquarters. She's clearly Latinx, fluent in English and Spanish, and we learn she's being paid minimum wage–well below the incomes of the panelists. As the debate ensues, Brenda is way beyond her depth, unable to manage the sparring that ensues. The live show descends into drunken chaos. Every political point of view is voiced and skewered. Even producer Serge joins the combative action between the opinionated panelists.

The sleek set on the Playhouse's intimate Rosenthal Shelterhouse Theatre stage looks very much like the round table used on ABC's "The View," clearly the model for Rebeck's biting script. Designed by Christopher and Justin Swader, it's on a revolve, so the combatants, seated on plexiglass stools, turn slowly as the tension rises (and speeds up as tempers flare). Mary Ellen Stebbins's red-white-and-blue lighting design also flickers and swirls, sometimes cool but more often hot red. The turntable enables audiences on three sides to get up close views of each colorful character.

Director Mêlisa Annis has given the production a hurtling momentum. She has a strong cast to pull off this 90-minute tale that feels like it's happening right now. (Playwright Rebeck has been present during rehearsals, and it's apparent that she has plugged in references to current politics to make the reality as immediate as possible.) As Brenda, Syglowski, with sex-appeal platinum blonde hair, wears a hot-pink, shape-fitting dress and stylish shoes (costumes by Fabian Fidel Aguilar). She is perfect as the know-it-all anchor whose actual knowledge is embarrassingly shallow. As Serge, Cronin, who replaced a different actor during the rehearsal process, conveys earnest frustration with temperamental Brenda and is convincing as a voice of reason as he battles with her and the panelists. His role takes an unanticipated turn in the story's wrap up, one that feels 180 degrees from Serge's initial persona. But it's clearly Rebeck's way to wind down the action and represent the manipulative way TV news has been infected and overcome by entertainment and sensationalism.

Williams makes Malcolm a smart, imposing and articulate guest who is easily distracted by snacks. Linehan's fiery Simone gets off some fantastically funny (and very off-color) gibes as she exchanges barbs with Sottile's smarmy Jonathan. The constant loud, contentious bickering among these three, with Syglowski's strenuous but failed efforts to keep a lid on the arguing, provides much of Talk's humor.

Valeria is appropriately lower-key and firm in her role as Mike, a sincere, hardworking immigrant. (Actually, she's a citizen, but her mother is from Honduras.) She's doing her best as a single parent to raise a daughter, and she's grateful to be employed. Her simple appreciation is an attitude the panelists seem incapable of understanding.

Rebeck's timely script, which seems a likely Broadway prospect, is a harsh portrait of what passes for news in today's hyper-charged, overwrought media world. But it populates the story with humorous portrayals of numerous political perspectives, making it a very entertaining piece of theatre regardless of your own views.

Commissioning and producing new works are long-standing traditions at the Playhouse, with 90 world premieres produced to date and more than 25 new play commissions. Surrounding the first weekend's performances of Talk , three readings of new works by rising playwrights were presented: Ophelia's Ghost by Amy Berryman; The Best Little Cat House in Scab Holler by Maggie Lou Rader; and The Myth of Two Marcos by Tony Meneses.

Talk runs through October 25, 2026, at Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park, 962 Mt. Adams Circle in Eden Park, adjacent to Mt. Adams, Cincinnati OH. For tickets and information, please visit cincyplay.com or call 513-421-3888.