Lisa Anne Porter, Leontyne Mbele-Mbong, Howard Swain, Teddy Spencer, and Charisse Loriaux Photo by David Allen

The action takes place in the school's library, which features enormous picture windows looking out over a scene of the Berkeley hills, the San Francisco Bay, and the Golden Gate Bridge in Richard Olmsted's gorgeously designed set. Here, the school's executive committee meets to discuss how to handle the situation. And in a flashing red bit of foreshadowing, Don (a perfectly cast Howard Swain) informs the newest member of the committee, a parent named Carina (Leontyne Mbele-Mbong), that all the committee's decisions must be made by consensus. And given the furor over vaccination schedules, it's clear consensus will be nigh on impossible to achieve.

But, ever the optimist and peacemaker, Don soldiers on, trying to coerce the group into first agreeing on core values. Don is the sort of guy the right wing mocks as "woke," saying things like "We welcome your unique perspective" and "strong social justice component." His heart is in the right place, but until the final scene (with its brilliant little twist) he's a bit of a pushover, run ragged by the other members of the committee he ostensibly leads, and by the parents who participate in a virtual "community activated conversation."

This "conversation," held via a videoconference system a la Zoom, is perhaps the most hilarious part of the play, as the executive committee members attempt to keep things on track while the parents erupt into name-calling and finger-pointing in the chat that appear projected on the upstage wall. The parents' comments are so perfectly done that the audience was roaring with laughter so hard the actors could barely be heard as they soldiered on with their discussion. Some parents suggest ginger as an alternative treatment over Tylenol for fever and rail against Big Pharma while the more rational, science-oriented parents appeal to logic to no avail and are ultimately compared to Nazis. This one scene alone is worth the ticket price for Eureka Day.

Director Josh Costello (artistic director of Aurora Theatre Company, who have unfortunately had to cancel their upcoming season due to budget constraints) has assembled a brilliant cast and guided them to some of the best performances ever seen on the Marin Theatre stage. Howard Swain, with his wild mop of white hair and frenetic energy is never less than totally believable as the leader of a progressive school in uber-progressive Berkeley. Suzanne (Lisa Anne Porter), who turns out to be the leader of the anti-vax contingent (for reasons which will become clear and, to a certain degree, understandable), is, like Don, eager not to offend and accompanies her carefully worded responses with a variety of pointed gestures. It's almost as if she can't trust her words to carry all the weight, so she puts her whole body into play.

Eli (Teddy Spencer), who turns out to be a multi-millionaire thanks to "being like employee number ten at Google" is as progressive as the rest of the committee but, without really thinking about it, exerts his white male privilege by constantly interrupting the dialogue among the executive committee members. Physically, he expresses his dominance and vaguely outsider status by never sitting in a chair the way most people do. He sits backwards, or sideways, occasionally even perching on the seat like a raptor scanning for prey. When he does sit facing front, he does so by crossing his legs almost in a lotus position.

Carina, the new parent on the committee, allows her character to almost dissolve into the background–that is until a textbook moment of white privilege exerting itself in a micro-aggression (that clearly doesn't feel micro to Carina) has her back stiffen and she stands up for herself in a way that had the audience gasping in recognition and a moment of "no you di'n't."

Meiko (Charisse Loriaux) is the quietest member of the committee, often knitting in silence as the others debate and discuss. But when she has something to say, she clearly shows she's a woman fully in tune with her power and not afraid to use it–especially in the somewhat secret relationship she has with polyamorous (but married) Eli.

Eureka Day runs an hour and 45 minutes with no intermission, but Costello has his cast in such perfect tune that the time whizzes by. Whatever your position on the (sadly) current debate over vaccine requirements, there is much for both sides to think about in Spector's brilliant play. Marin-ites, take notice: you've got a world-class work of art with a terrific cast playing right in your backyard. Don't miss this opportunity.

Eureka Day plays through September 21, 2025, at Marin Theatre, 397 Miller Avenue, Mill Valley CA. Performances are Wednesdays-Saturdays at 7:30pm, with matinees Saturdays and Sundays at 2:00pm. Tickets range from $38-$89 (plus a $6 handling fee). For tickets and information, please visit www.marintheatre.org, or call the box office at 415-388-5208.