In “The Reservoir,” now running at the Geffen Playhouse, playwright Jake Brasch takes the raw materials of addiction, aging, and memory loss—and spins them into something unexpectedly buoyant, deeply moving, and shot through with sharp wit. What begins with a hungover twenty-something on the banks of Denver’s Cherry Creek unfolds into a poignant meditation on what it means to lose your grip—on your past, your control, your mind—and to find unexpected salvation in the least likely of lifeboats: your grandparents.

Josh (Jake Horowitz), the central figure—a neurotic, queer dropout trying to crawl his way toward sobriety—returns home to recover. But what sets this play apart from familiar redemption arcs is not just the subject matter, but the inventive way it’s staged and told. His four grandparents become not only his chorus but, at times, his mind’s mirror—mimicking his scattered thoughts, shadowing his spirals, and performing the choreography of his inner chaos with uncanny comic timing. When his brain runs wild, theirs do too, with movement and gesture that often lands somewhere between hilarious and heartbreaking.

“What makes The Reservoir unforgettable isn’t just its inventive staging or biting humor—it’s the quiet bravery in showing that healing doesn’t always come with closure, and love doesn’t always arrive gently.”

The set, designed by Takeshi Kata with elegant simplicity, offers a minimalist palette: a raised platform lined with four chairs before a screen that projects shifting memories, locations, and fragments of thought. Furniture glides in and out like dreams—here a couch, there a recliner or bookshelf—each piece appearing just long enough to serve a memory before receding again. The effect is fluid, episodic, and perfectly attuned to a story that is, at its core, about slipping in and out of reality.

What gives “The Reservoir” its staying power, though, isn’t its clever staging—it’s the emotional terrain it explores without resorting to neat resolutions. There’s something quietly radical in how the show refuses to tie up its conflicts in tidy bows. The tensions between generations, the unresolved traumas, the relapses—they linger, and in doing so, they feel all the more authentic. This isn’t recovery as seen through a Disney lens. It’s messy, uneven, and often absurdly funny. That tonal tightrope—between aching grief and full-bellied laughter—is where the play finds its greatest success. It’s as comic as it is crushing, and the whiplash between those poles makes its quieter moments land with unexpected force.

The cast is uniformly strong, but a few performances stand out. Liz Larsen brings steely tenderness to Beverly, a grandmother with a no-nonsense demeanor and a streak of tough love that never feels performative. Lee Wilkof, as the wonderfully profane Shrimpy, delivers one perfectly timed zinger after another, all while hinting at a reservoir of loss beneath the bravado. Both actors anchor the play with emotional gravity even in its most surreal detours.

As Josh, Jake Horowitz has the unenviable task of carrying nearly every scene, often navigating rapid tonal shifts with a cocktail of charm, insecurity, and dry humor. He’s boyish without being cloying, wounded without wallowing, and his moments of self-revelation feel earned rather than announced.

“The Reservoir” grips you early and doesn’t let go. It’s funny, sad, searching, and strange—in all the best ways. As a reflection on intergenerational memory, personal reckoning, and the odd salvation that comes from being seen, even in your most broken state, it offers something rare in contemporary theater: hope without sentimentality, and truth without despair.

— Ghalib Dhalla

The Reservoir plays at the Geffen Playhouse through July 20th. More info here: https://www.geffenplayhouse.org/