The political season is upon us—or what passes for politics in this post-political society—and in the summer doldrums the theater has been doing its bit. It is, as Bill Clinton would say, a theater that looks like America—or, anyway, looks like Bill Clinton’s America: plays about the black condition, plays about the Jewish condition, even a play about a Clintonesque president’s condition (not in the medical sense, I hasten to add). I find myself pining for the theatrical lefties of yesteryear, with their earnest tracts about the evils of capitalism, etc. These days, most playwrights seem to take the line, “But enough about the world, let’s talk about me.”

Thus, Avow (at the Century Center), Bill C. Davis’s smug, glib, trivial comedy about gay marriage. Tom and Brian, the kind of hunky cutesy gay couple that makes you depressingly aware just how wretchedly déclassé heterose ...

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