From
Theatermania - 10/12/07
The Quality of Life
Reviewed By: Terri Roberts
Perhaps
one of the most profound questions we face in life is how to deal death. It
doesn't seem to matter all that much whether the dilemma concerns our own
shuffling off of this mortal coil, or whether someone we love faces a slow
disintegration from disease or a fast, traumatic and unexpected demise. It is
both the end itself, and the means by which we face it, that matter.
Playwright Jane Anderson explores a myriad of ethical, religious, and moral
beliefs, as well as (some would say) personal rights issues concerning life and
death in her remarkable and completely engrossing new play, The Quality of Life
now receiving its world premiere at the newly-opened Audrey Skirball Kenis
Theatre at the Geffen Theatre/
The play, which was commissioned by the Geffen, is also directed by Anderson,
and iled by an all-star cast that includes Scott Bakula and JoBeth Williams as
Bill and Dinah, who are sill grieving the recent loss of their brutally
murdered, college-aged daughter, Cindy; Laurie Metcalf as Jeanette, Dinah's
wildly free-spirited, hippieish cousin; and Dennis Boutsikaris as Neil,
Jeanette's cherished husband of 23 years and a sociocultural anthropologist, who
is dying of cancer.
In the aftermath of death, the deceased often becomes the entire focus of the
lives of the survivors closest to them. This is certainly true of Bill and
Dinah, whose living room is sparsely furnished and dominated by portrait of
Cindy. Although both have found comfort and solace in the bosom of a local
church, it is Bill -- the one who had to identify the mutilated remains of his
only child -- who becomes blindly devotional and completely intolerant of any
point of view different from his own hard line perspective. Dinah, on the other
hand, is more open-minded. While still devastated, she is grateful that her
child is "safe in the arms of her Lord, Jesus," and can simultaneously make room
for the possibility that others, like Jeanette and Neil, may have a different
attitude about how to handle the inevitable and what happens afterward.
The majority of the play takes place on the scorched hillside of what was once
Jeanette and Neil's home (the evocative scenic design by Francois-Pierre
Couture; the lovely lighting is by Jason H. Thompson). Having lost everything in
a disastrous fire, the couple are now living off the blackened land in a yertz
(a tall, circular tent), using a solar panel for electricity, decorating with
colorful hanging lanterns and windchimes made of the melted remains of their
possessions, and trying to keep a lemons-into-lemonade outlook about it all.
Neil has little time left, and so has chosen to leave life on his own terms.
When Dinah and Bill learn of his plans, and Jeanette's intimate involvement in
it, a hellish fight about God and free will and consequences sends everybody
spiraling out of control.
It is the struggle to understand -- and to deal with -- the unfathomable that is
the heart of Anderson's play. It's not that we've never dealt with death before,
or heard the various arguments surrounding how to deal with it, but rarely have
the frustrations, the anger, the fears, the horrible "how-could-you-do-this?"
and "how-can-I-ever-live-with-you?" questions ever been so articulately and
passionately expressed.
Anderson is also blessed with an amazing, adventurous cast, willing to slide off
slippery emotional slopes and round dangerous curves to get to the truth. And
they do, without pretense, and at full throttle. While together they are a
stunning ensemble, and everyone has moments to brilliantly shine. But it is
Metcalf, in particular whose Jeanette is so vibrant and in-the-moment that she
compels you to never look away from her or from the death-defying issues at
hand. It can be a scary, heartbreaking place to stay, but well worth the
journey.
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