Before I saw Neil LaBute’s reasons to be pretty, I was warned that it would be “harsh.” Indeed, the characters’ relationships are complex and the show contains more curse words than your average R-rated movie, yet “harsh” does not describe the show’s overall effect. On the whole, I thought it was truthful. Truthful to life.

reasons to be pretty launches into the heat of the story immediately, opening the first scene with an argument between Greg, the protagonist, and his livid girlfriend, Steph. My eyes were glued to the actors, enraptured by the explosive, fast-paced dialogue which is at times hilarious and at other times devastating in its truthfulness. LaBute masterfully drops hints throughout the first scene that clue us in to the opening conflict of the play: Greg has made a disparaging comment about Steph’s appearance, comparing her with his new, hot coworker. Through Steph’s distressed reaction, LaBute explores Americans’ fixation on physical beauty and the insecurities that ensue when a person believes he or she is not pretty.

Greg has other issues to deal with besides his girlfriend’s insecurities. He is stuck in a factory job that he vows to quit but never does. The employees’ lounge, complete with a vending machine and microwave, proves a haven for Greg from his mindless work hauling cereal boxes – a place where he can relax, eat his lunch, and lose himself in the world of Poe or Hawthorne. But as always, the deafening factory buzzer is sounded at the end of his lunch break, insistently calling him back, and Greg leaves, tucking his book into his work belt for safe keeping. Indeed, throughout the play, the factory is inescapable. No matter where the characters are, whether at work, at home or in a restaurant, they are overshadowed by a backdrop of shelves upon shelves of boxes: Cheezits, Cheerios, Ritz, Cup O’Noodles, and more, stacked from floor to ceiling.

The play exhibits a tone of realism, as you watch the characters search for the right words to express how they feel about each other, often failing in the attempt. When the characters do summon enough courage to convey what they meant to say all along, their words are all the more heartfelt and powerful. The emotional honesty of these moments and others, brilliantly crafted by Neil LaBute, twang the audience’s heartstrings. None of the four characters are by any means perfect, yet they are so human, that by the end of the show, the audience sympathizes with even the vilest among them. The play’s surprises take the audience on an emotional rollercoaster as twists and turns emerge that continually redefine the characters’ relationships to one another and to us.

Perhaps the harshness of the play comes from LaBute’s ability to hold a mirror up to the audience and show us our capacity to be unkind. And yet, despite its realistic tone, reasons to be pretty employs the magic of theater to give us reasons for hope.