The Debut

Back Story

Let’s set the stage, so to speak. Or so to write.

Writer/director Jesse Eisenberg’s made some interesting comments during the interview circuit while promoting The Debut. After playing Lex Luthor in Zach Snyder’s notorious Justice League fiasco back in 2017, he was basically ostracized in Hollywood. Eisenberg said he couldn’t get any roles, so he started writing his own plays – for the stage (Susan Sarandon starred off-Broadway in Happy Talk in 2019) and for the screen (Eisenberg’s deeply personal A Real Pain in 2024). On the flip side, Aaron Sorkin was frustrated by Eisenberg’s refusal (no matter the amount of money thrown at him) to return as Mark Zuckerberg in The Social Reckoning.

That makes for an interesting person. But, digging deeper, The Spoils (an off-Broadway production co-starring The Big Bang Theory’s Kunal Nayyar) was performed in 2015, so the stage was calling Eisenberg before Lex Luthor figuratively destroyed his Hollywood.

Regardless, all that work in live theatre has certainly primed Eisenberg to skewer theatre with some of his own insights. And it’s a broader career strategy that seems to be paying off in spades.

With The Debut, Eisenberg once again proves he’s a formidable talent as a writer and as a director. And he’s genuinely funny.

Broadway Baby

At first glance, the story is simple. An underappreciated housewife in a well-to-do family auditions for a community theatre production of a decades-old musical called Nosy Neighbors. That woman is Mona Friedman and she’s played to stunning perfection by Julianne Moore, reteaming with Eisenberg after collaborating on When You Finish Saving the World.

But there’s so much more to it.

The Debut isn’t “just” a comedy/drama about community theatre. This is a movie that is deeply informed by theatre writ large: Broadway, baby. But it’s more importantly about taking a risk, taking a leap of faith in an effort to not just fulfill a dream (new or old) but to live a full life.

And with that, it all starts with none other than Bernadette Peters as Serena Cherry, the shining star who originated the role of Miss Danielle, a New York apartment building superintendent in that classic musical Nosy Neighbors. At 78 years young she’s still a stunner (Bernadette, that is). The role is hers. All hers. (Serena, that is.) Serena still belts out a Broadway showstopper such as This City May Have Chewed Me Up (But It Hasn’t Spit Me Out) with gorgeous aplomb.

And then Mona Friedman darkens the door of the Brook Arts Center.

The kids have grown up; they don’t need her. The husband is tuned out; he doesn’t want her. When out with friends, she’s lost in the conversation, with nothing to add. Even at the market, strangers feel comfortable walking right past her in the checkout line. She hasn’t sung in public since she was in the church choir. And that was when she was 13.

She is a complete 180 from the dominating diva that is Serena Cherry.

But so what!

None of that matters now. It’s time for Mona to shake things up for herself.

She auditions for that O so coveted role.

It goes… less than well.

Regardless, spotting a flyer promoting auditions for the play at the local supermarket, Mona tears off all the little phone number strips, hoping to dissuade any competition.

She wants it.

She wants it bad.

But she’s also terribly ignorant of the theatre biz.

Weeks later, when Mona returns to the Brook Arts Center to track down the director, the acclaimed king of community theatre, Jerry Blankenbuehler (Paul Giamatti), and get the skinny on what’s going on, he calmly explains to her she didn’t get the role. Serena got it weeks ago. They’re almost ready to open.

A Diva Is Born

With that setup, Eisenberg creates a whole world to explore through the eyes of an overlooked housewife trying to find herself in the role of a superintendent. There are some parallels to her own life, and there are many more differences. Especially when the demure housewife needs to speak up and, as the superintendent, take command of the situation, whether it’s a broken toilet or unpaid rent.

The opening title cards throw a little bit of a Woody Allen vibe, but the quirky humor is distinctly Eisenberg.

Julianne Moore is superb as Mona… and eventually… as the superintendent. Once Serena backs out, deeming the role now too small for her and instead snagging a starring role in a regional production of Annie Get Your Gun, Mona gets her big break (after all, Serena and Mona were the only two who auditioned).

And, as a result, Moore gets the opportunity to go full tilt and at times wholly raw, transitioning from housewife to haggard amateur in a life rife with transition to a well-adjusted pro. It’s not an easy path and at times Eisenberg almost derails the action with some over-the-top, farcical situations off the stage. But that’s all part of the movie’s own theatricality and it’s all in service to leading Mona to where she needs to be.

There’s a stage full of characters: the leads (the boy in 26A (Colton Ryan) and the girl in 4F (Halle Bailey)) and minor characters (throw Jesse himself into those ranks as an entrepreneur with a leaky toilet). Collectively, they carry some of the essence of those great Christopher Guest mockumentaries, such as Waiting for Guffman, A Mighty Wind and For Your Consideration.

Monkey Blood

Eisenberg captures some truly great moments here and one of the finest is a superb shot of Mona outside the theatre, in an alley. Emblazoned across the theatre’s outer brick wall are the famous masks of comedy and drama. Below them is Mona. She’s smoking a cigarette. Only, she’s not really. An affectation she’s picked up thanks to the “girl in 4F” is the smoking habit. But she chooses to never, ever light her cigarettes. She’ll just hold them. Puff on them. Even stamp them out on the ground like burning butts.

Possibly overshadowing even Moore’s magnificent, Oscar worthy performance is the stunning realization Eisenberg not only wrote and directed The Debut, he wrote the movie’s seven farcical Broadway show tunes. They’re so credible in their comic theatricality and heart-on-the-sleeve emotions and, as funny as they are, they’re also strangely effective and enjoyable. It’s anticipated they can be heard in full on the movie’s soundtrack, set for release in December.

With all those plates spinning, the mini miracle of The Debut lies in its core theme and message. Those come from conversations between Mona and her director, Jerry. He’s put up with her atrocious singing skills and molded her into a decent community theatre performer, only to have his special project run loose and challenge him as she seeks to find the “truth” of Danielle’s life even as she seeks the same for her own.

That’s all great. But the messages are also so timely.

In those conversations, Jerry makes some sharp realizations about his own career and challenges Mona regarding her own. Jerry provides her with his assessment as to why people still go to live theatre in this modern world: It’s because they want to see those performers on the stage feel something. They want to escape their own numbing lives and share in that emotion, no matter the range of those feelings or the circumstances driving those emotions.

And then he drops the big theatrical bomb by asking her a simple question with no truly easy answers: What do you care about?