The Roommate

There’s star power aplenty when the curtain goes up on “The Roommate” — so much that Mia Farrow and Patti LuPone slyly take brief applause-acknowledging bows even before their comedic drama begins.

“I didn’t realize Mia’s that tall,” whispered the man behind me. “She isn’t,” said his companion. “She's 5'3" but Patti’s barely 5'2".” “Well she looks taller!”

That having been clarified, their odd-couple two-hander begins as Robyn (LuPone) moves into the spare bedroom in the sprawling Iowa City farmhouse belonging to Sharon (Farrow).

Tough-talking, chain-smoking, black-leather-clad, restless Robyn’s an outspoken vegetarian from the Bronx, while chatty, naïve Sharon’s only contact with New York comes through her adult, clothing-designer son who lives in Park Slope. (Voiced on the phone by uncredited Ronan Farrow.)

So for the first half of Jen Silverman’s play, Sharon’s guileless, recently-divorced country-mouse seems constantly surprised, confused and intrigued by lesbian-grifter Robyn’s city-mouse behavior, including requiring almond milk in her coffee, swindling money out of people (particularly senior citizens), and growing marijuana plants.

“Please don’t call them drugs, they’re medicinal herbs,” Robyn defensively explains. “Herbs only become drugs when a capitalist economy gets involved.”

Make no mistake: this is a star vehicle, ostensibly chronicling the unexpected, life-changing friendship between two seeming disparate, older women — both troubled by their identity, mortality and the prospect of re-invention.

Directed by Jack O’Brien, Mia Farrow oozes screwball vulnerability, claiming she learned from the Harvard Business Review that “Expansion is progress,” while formidable Patti LuPone wryly sneers: “Sustaining and expanding are two different activities.”

Yes, it’s predictably far-fetched. Its pop-culture references are dated — not to mention repetitive — and there’s no intermission in which to escape.

Bob Crowley designed the kitchen-centric, wood-framed set and character-driven costumes, augmented by Natasha Katz’s lighting design, Mikaal Sulaiman’s sound, David Yazbek’s music, with wigs, hair, and makeup by Robert Pickens and Katie Gill.