Reviewed 4/17/05
As a playwriting teacher, I’ve seen it most every time: when young writers craft their first dramatic script, they feel the need to include every hot-button topic that they can. It’s a matter of a lack of confidence; rather than building drama by trusting character to create conflict, they figure that throwing in issues like juvenile delinquency, drunk driving, loss of a loved one, prostitution, and teen smoking will raise the stakes for them. The result is a play that veers in every direction but fails to deal in depth with any of the issues raised. Such is the case with Tom Leveen’s original script for 102, one that he wrote in his youth and has revised and mounted with that latest iteration of Is What It Is Theatre. It even has the obligatory over-dependence on flashback, out-of-reality discussions with key players, a basic lack of understanding of the legal and counseling professions, and religious imagery that turns a character into Jesus. The title itself refers to a Biblical psalm. Leveen’s production is hampered by a couple of awful performances flanked by a couple of good ones and an unbilled lighting design that lacks uniformity and subtlety.
Dr. Taylor (Matt Dixon) is asked on his angry last day as a state psychological counselor to deal with Jo Tolliver (Emily Rubin), a troubled youth with a heart of gold and an unexplained mentor in Judge Jackson (Desirée Thompson) who is willing to risk her job to help this stereotypical smart girl in a bad space. It seems that Jo and her sister Laura (Alyson Maloney) are being whaled on by their stepfather Foster (Adam Reck) while their zombified mother (Ann Bucci) tranquilizes herself into a stupor. Taylor, already dealing with his own grief, is treated to a smorgasbord of society’s ills suffered by Jo and Laura. Will the Doc and Jo be able to achieve epiphany in their first hour together? Is there ever a doubt?
Rubin
and Maloney (pictured right) are solid anchors but prone to overemoting,
though this is less their fault than Leveen’s script and directing
style. As the evening warms up, the two begin to form a believable sisterly
duo, though Maloney is asked to spend way too much time in a blue light and
make cryptic pronouncements. The strongest actor in the cast is Bucci, whose
catatonia is remarkably believable. As a strict priest, Matthew Cary does
what he does best, straight shooting sincerity. However, Dixon’s performance
is a lot more aping than acting, letting his facial expressions and strangled
cries do the work for him. Reck’s evil stepfather is exactly as the
script deserves, and this production also offers one of the worst performances
of the season from Thompson, who has no right to be on the stage. This is
one of those performances that is so bad, it’s fun to watch. She obviously
doesn’t have a grasp of her lines, let alone her motivations and physical
presence. She speaks in a maddening monotone and leaves pauses between cues
that are almost Shatnerian in their majesty. She also looks so uncomfortable
onstage that you wish you could give her a privacy screen.
Michael Peck’s scenic design is effective, a shattering of Jo’s life and locations into a collage of playing spaces. The lighting, however, seems to have been focused randomly. Eric Morgan’s original music is a nice filmic touch to an otherwise overwrought evening.
