Review: ‘I, Daniel Blake,’ the play, stumbles in its U.S. premiere at the Fountain

J.D. Cullum stars in “I, Daniel Blake” at the Fountain Theatre in Hollywood.

(Geoffrey Wade Photography)

Don’t make the mistake of seeing the film “I, Daniel Blake” right before attending the stage version. You might leave the Fountain Theatre, as I did, wondering what the point could be of an inferior knockoff when the original is available to rent online.

An air of karaoke hangs over the U.S. premiere of “I, Daniel Blake,” the dramatic adaptation by Dave Johns from the film directed by Ken Loach and written by Paul Laverty. Jones, a stand-up comedian, was justly celebrated for his portrayal of the movie’s title character. In finding the craggy humanity in the carpenter from Newcastle upon Tyne, who is treated like a bothersome statistic by the British bureaucracy after suffering a serious heart attack that prevents him from going back to work, Jones’ performance sent a strong political message to the powers-that-be about the state of public assistance.

In the Fountain production directed by Simon Levy, the role of Daniel Blake is played by JD Cullum, an accomplished local stage veteran with a twinkling amiability. Unfortunately, Cullum softens the character’s gruff charm. The harsh Northern England accent eludes him. “I, Daniel Blake” is built on local reality, which is completely missing here.

Philicia Saunders and Makara Gamble in “I, Daniel Blake” at The Fountain Theatre.

(Geoffrey Wade Photography)

Philicia Saunders plays Katie, another victim of Britain’s welfare system, who has moved from a London homeless shelter with her daughter, Daisy (Makara Gamble), to a barely livable council flat up north. (Katie’s son has been cut from the stage version.) Daniel and Katie meet at a job center, where they’re both banging their heads against an antagonistic bureaucracy.

Handy with tools, Daniel offers to help Katie fix up her new home. He knows what it’s like to grow up poor and wants to feel useful again. The play, like the film, chronicles what happens to them — the desperation they’re brought to, their helpless outrage at a system that doesn’t seem to care whether they live or die and the care they come to accept from each other in the face of vast public indifference.

Americans who have had their run-ins with the health insurance industry, never mind our own inadequate welfare state, won’t have trouble feeling indignation. The play dramatizes the modern Kafkaesque hell of automated phone systems that make callers wait ungodly amounts of time, to numbing hold music, before speaking to a scripted agent. Digitally innocent Daniel is forced to beg for help to apply for benefit programs that can only be accessed online. Petty bureaucratic rules are enforced with a cruel callousness.

A skilled laborer, Daniel is a hardworking, tax-paying citizen whose only crime is that he hasn’t recovered from a heart attack. Katie wants to be self-sufficient, but the only job that she’s offered that will pay for necessities is prostitution. In the film, which won the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 2016, this sociopolitical portrait is made all the more damning by simple acts of kindness from characters with the least to give.

The production projects social media posts about the heartlessness of Britain’s unemployment services and benefits system. But good intentions can’t hide the derivative nature of the project. The stage version at the Fountain feels like the CliffsNotes version of the film.

There’s no way the play can duplicate the authenticity of the movie. The plot is hurried, leaving the actors insufficient time to find their footing. Joel Daavid‘s resourceful scenic design does its best to find solutions to the rapidly shifting locales, but the theatrical shorthand starts to feel like a blur.

Saunders and Gamble dig into the domestic privations of poverty — the lack of food and heat, the shame of wearing the same old clothes every day, the constant worry about what’s next. It’s almost a pity that they have to maintain the shaky pretense of being British.

Wesley Guimarães gives a lively portrayal of China, Daniel’s sketchy, good-hearted neighbor. Janet Greaves (a Brit whose accent is far and away the most convincing) and Adam Segaller (whose volume is the most thunderous) do their best to flesh out the figures obstructing and occasionally helping beleaguered Daniel and Katie.

“I, Daniel Blake,” the film, makes a powerful human case for social services. The play echoes this ever-important sentiment but with far less cogency on an American stage.