Photograph by Jim Carmody

Sweat: “The deplorables are completely deplorable.”

This should have been a good story. Writer Lynn Nottage went to Reading, Pennsylvania — one of the poorest cities in the country — to talk to people about the effects of de-industrialization on the Rust Belt. Tellingly, when she interviewed middle-aged white men, she thought they sounded a lot like young black men: “They felt disenfranchised, disaffected.” She wanted to tell their story.

It’s a great idea: give a voice to the people, (mostly white men from fly-over territory) who have plummeted from solidly middle-class, home-owning skilled workers with stable jobs to being broke, broken, welfare-receiving, unemployable “deplorables” in one generation.

I wish Nottage had told that story.

But this story is about three women (one black, one white, one drunk) who are besties — until one of them (black) gets promoted to management and the other (white) becomes bitter and obsesses over feeling that she was more qualified but was passed over because she’s white. The play is now about race rather than de-industrialization.

What follows is a lot of speechifying by characters who are competing for the “greatest victim prize” by reciting their grievances. Which, allow me to point out, is not what fly-over deplorables do. It’s what college-educated “woke” people do. So this play imposes the values of woke on genuine victims, thereby depriving them of any voice whatsoever.

Though the script calls for all the characters to be far too angry for far too long to be watchable, the POC characters still come off pretty well. The deplorables are, on the other hand, completely deplorable. This isn’t a story about de-industrialization. It’s a story where everything’s about race.

The main mystery — and the action on which the whole production hinges — is why the white woman’s son and the black woman’s son end up in prison for eight years. The resolution of this mystery is inexplicably delayed from the first scene to the very end of the play — so long that the audience has stopped remembering or caring.

Throughout the play, there is a political news ticker above the stage. Its presence serves only to puzzle. Is the news relevant? Couldn’t tell.

More perplexing: the repeated broadcast of the local temperature. What does it matter if the termperature outside is 38 or 98?

If the temperature had started out low and then heated up as the action of the play heated up, I would get that: Things are heating up. It would be cheesy, but it would at least make sense. But that isn’t what happened. Each new scene was accompanied by a weather report about the outdoor temperature. I couldn’t fathom the significance.

A few efforts shone through the general gloom. Antonio Johnson gave a compelling, believable performance as parole officer Evan. I wanted to see more of Evan and get more of his backstory. That’s embodying a role.

Jason Heil as Stan did a lot to unflatten his flat role. Matt Orduna as Brucie gives some subtlety and depth to a rather one-dimensional character. Designer John Iacovelli provided a simple and effective set.

• Sweat by Lynn Nottage
• San Diego Repertory Theatre, 79 Horton Plaza, San Diego
• Directed by Sam Woodhouse; Cast: Antonio T.J. Johnson, Steve Froehlich, Cortez Johnson, Jason Heil, Markuz Rodriguez, Judy Bauerlein, Monique Gaffney, Hannah Logan, Matt Orduna
• Set design by John Iacovelli, costume design by Elisa Benzoni, lighting design by Ann E. McMills, sound design by Matthew Lescault-Wood, projection design by Samantha Rojales. Fight Director: James Newcomb;
• Stage Manager: Heather M. Brose
• Plays through May 12.