Where’s
Bill Nye the Science Guy when you need him? Maybe he could explain how you get
four actors on stage talking about sex, with some full frontal nudity, and have
absolutely no chemical reaction among any of them.
Granted,
there’s plenty of mystery in The Mystery
of Love & Sex now at Dobama Theatre. But many of the most compelling
mysteries involve the way this production has been put together, and not with
the subjects—parenting, racism, young sexual identity, middle-aged angst,
Jewish guilt—at hand.
There
seems to be a wise and compassionate play at work somewhere in the many complex
folds of Bathsheba Doran’s script, but they are often obscured by performances
that are neither fully realized by the cast nor well orchestrated by director
Shannon Sindelar. The result is a
long, episodic play that continually teeters on the brink of feeling genuine
and significant, but never quite gets there.
A
couple college students, Charlotte and Jonny, have invited her parents over to
their digs for dinner. Much is made early on of the unappetizing repast, dry
salad and unbuttered bread, and with the low table at which they are forced to
dine. It’s just the first of several TV sitcom devices employed by Doran, who
has written for TV in the past.
The
kids have been platonic friends for years, having grown up together in the same
neighborhood. But now their backgrounds seem to have become an obstacle since
she’s white and Jewish, he’s black and Baptist (and a virgin), and her parents,
Howard and Lucinda, can’t figure out what’s going on.
The
character profiles seem hauled up from the shallow and familiar tee-vee comedy
well, since Howard is a neurotic, Jewish New York author of detective novels
and Lucinda is a somewhat faded Southern belle, with her drawl firmly attached.
It’s never clear what these two see in each other, or how they produced a
daughter who is so stunningly naïve and insensitive. But there you have it.
While
Charlotte tries to figure out who she is, revealing that she has a crush on a
girl at school, Jonny is worried about his sick mother and working out his
attraction to Jonah, a fellow student. This leads to a lot of chatter about
self-acceptance that lacks the underlying twang of serious issues being
considered.
Unfortunately,
Dobama’s cast of experienced actors can’t unravel this mystery. As Charlotte,
the usually adept Tess Burgler seems often at a loss to find her character’s
through-line. And some of this may have to do with Wesley Allen, whose cardboard
Jonny is bland and flat. Without an interesting foil to react to and interact
with, Burgler’s scenes with Allen fail to register a pulse and Doran’s
carefully constructed witty lines often just lay there.
The
parents fare just slightly better, probably due to the fact they have less
stage time. Scott Miller invests Howard with enough Manhattan ‘tude, but the
script denies Miller the ability to make this father more than just a generally
gruff yet supportive dad. Meanwhile, the talented Heather Anderson Boll seems
hamstrung by Lucinda’s southern accent and her character’s contrived patter.
For
example, even though Jonny supposedly “grew up” in their home, one doesn’t get
any sense of that close bond. Howard and Lucinda seem to treat Jonny like a
stranger who wandered in from an adjoining apartment. So when we learn that
Jonny wrote a college paper about Howard’s books, ripping them for various
insensitivities, it lands with a thud since there’s nothing in the relationship
at stake.
In
a reach for boldness, Doran has both Charlotte and Jonny go full frontal at
different times. In some plays, this would be a riveting moment, but here it
just seems a sad and inadequate substitute for the profound character revelations
that are missing elsewhere.
Scenic
designer Jill Davis hasn’t helped the actors, since the black and white screens
that are used as a backdrop for the first scene make it look like the college
kids are living in a strip mall Chinese restaurant. Also, since Davis uses the
entire stage, the four performers are left to wander about Dobama’s large
playing area and try to fill the space, which they can’t. At times, Sindelar
has them speaking to each other from far corners which, regrettably, serves as
an apt visual metaphor for the gaps in both the script and the production. If
only Marcus Dana’s well-designed lighting had been used to carve up the stage
and provide the actors a more playable environment.
Even
one of the best scenes, when Lucinda and Charlotte share some secrets during a
pedicure party, proceeds slowly and obviously. And throughout, the necessary
chemistry among these four people is never adequately developed. As Charlotte
says to Jonny at one point, “Something inside needs to get out.” Yes, indeed.
It’s just a shame that this production fails to accomplish that important job.
The
Mystery of Love & Sex
Through
October 2 at Dobama Theatre, 2340 Lee Road, Cleveland Heights, 216-932-3396.
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