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| Susan Brooks and Dara Tiller in Dead Man's Cell Phone. Photo – Theatre [502]. |
By Sarah Ruhl
Directed by Gil Reyes
Review by Rachel White
Entire contents are copyright ©
2013 Rachel White. All rights reserved.
Dead
Man’s Cell Phone opens in a coffee shop. A man sits below an abstract
painting, facing the wall, perfectly still. A woman sits quietly enjoying a
bowl of soup. Silence. The man’s cell phone rings. It rings again, and again,
and again. The woman looks around. She addresses the man. He doesn’t answer. The
phone rings again.
This opening is perfectly timed and the scene is
drawn out as long and uncomfortably as possible without losing the tension. The
director, Gil Reyes, makes use of the silence and space between Jean (Susan
Brooks), the woman, and the man (Gordon). Jean’s utter discomfort is made painfully
obvious by Brooks’ wide expressive eyes and her clear, tentative voice. Everything
about Brooks’ performance is heightened and filled, and she is especially
interesting in this moment, holding the stage alone for several tense moments. When
Jean decides to answer the phone herself, she begins her relationship with the
dead man, his cell phone, and the family that is trying to reach him through it.
From here on is an absurd journey where Jean meets
Gordon’s oddball mother, Mrs. Gottlieb, played with larger-than-life
eccentricity by Becky LeCron; his widow, Hermia (Dara Jade Tiller); and his
brother, Dwight (Ryan Lash). Love affairs ensue as well as trips to the other
side as Jean realizes with disappointment that Gordon (Robert McFarland) – whom
she loves in spite of his being dead – is not such a great guy after all.
The ethereal dreamlike nature of the play and its
elements of absurdity make it a deeply challenging piece for the audience – and
I’m sure for the performers. There are parts where the pace of the play slows,
particularly toward the end of Act I. Because the piece itself is so ethereal,
it can begin to feel as if it is meandering in places. This happens more when
the actors play the absurdity of the situation, particularly in the dinner
scene following the reveal of Gordon’s death. The performances are strongest
when the emotions come from a place of real pain, as when Jean is caught in a purgatory-like
place with Gordon. When she realizes it could be forever, her loneliness
becomes palpable even though the situation is unrealistic.
However, there’s a great clarity in Reyes’
direction, a cleanness that grounds the play in its own reality; he finds a way
to make sense of the odd situations the characters find themselves in. It is
designed with a love for the theatrical, and both Reyes and Designer Karl
Anderson have an eye for pretty details (the white origami houses opening on a
clothesline) and simple touches that are intended to dazzle, and somehow they
do.
Robert McFarland as Gordan is an unsettling
presence on stage. He has been cast more than once as the smoothly confident, truth
telling, not-quite-human being; his knowing smile and smooth confidence
combined with his physical height give him an other-worldly quality. His
description of the taste and texture of mushy and merely serviceable lentils is
delivered with careful concern. I could imagine his disappointment that this
should be his last meal, as Jean slurps the last drops of Lobster Bisque.
It’s wonderful to see poetic work like this. It’s a
departure for [502], but it feels like an inevitable one. They seem to favor
the poetic, but past seasons have often been devoted to love and relationships.
This play is a little more ambitious, a grown-up play grappling with the deeper
philosophical issues of our age.
Dead Man’s Cell Phone
June 21, 22, 24, 28 and 29 at 8 p.m.
Theatre 502 at
The Baron’s Theater
131 West Main Street
Louisville, KY 40202
Tickets: $15
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