Donald Margulies Pulitzer Prize winning play Dinner With Friends is a domestic kind of masterpiece. Depicting, intricately and poetically, the ripple effect of divorce and the vulnerability of marriage. Journeying through the comfortably familiar middle-class, suburban dinner party throwers and goers, to highlight the uncomfortably familiar. The inherent tensions versus the mutual dependency of friendship groups. The false smiles that ‘keep up with the Joneses’ that only ever partially disguise the jealousy and insecurity lurking beneath. Margulies script is as witty as it is touching; it’s strength is that it plays on common weaknesses. It is identifiable, it is subtle and it is scary. But my problem is who exactly is it for?

Here’s what I know: it’s not really for me. It’s not, really for anyone in my generation, it’s not really for anyone a bit older and it’s certainly not really for anyone younger. During the post-show mingle, I must have been wearing my ‘I don’t hate it, but I don’t really get it face’ because I was told, in no uncertain terms, multiple times, that I was too young to get it. That it really is a wonderful play, and once I’ve been married for 10 years (or so), I’ll see just how amazing it is. Steady on, when did Keeping up with Joneses become ageist? I didn’t see a thirty five plus age certificate anywhere on the marketing material. The narrative is insular to that subject matter – that’s exactly what makes it so intricate, but it doesn’t even leave room to assign anything below the surface to my parents or any situation close to me.

Of course, none of that means I can’t appreciate good writing (which it absolutely is); good performances (some, sometimes); good direction or good design. It simply means that all of the above need to pull something pretty special out of the bag for the production as a whole to be fulfilling. The performances are largely unemotional and that’s apart from the genuinely jarring problem with mastery of the American accent (in two cases). Margulies writing adopts an American rhythm so the accent is probably necessary if you can do it so comfortably that you keep a handle of your characters’ integrity. It’s like dancing in heels: if you can’t do both either wear flats or stay still. The set is impressive based around an enviable kitchen that becomes a bedroom; a villa; a living room and a bar, to name a few. The transitions from scene to scene, however, could have been significantly smoother.

It is the overall lack of smoothness that makes this version of Dinner with Friends a bit nothingy. It is not bad, it’s not great, it’s just kind of bland. The blandness only draws attention to the insular subject that’s already there.

Dinner With Friends is playing at the Park Theatre until 28 November. For more information and tickets, see Park Theatre website.