Olivia Castanho and Anne Gee Byrd (Photo by Jason Niedle)
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Interact Theatre Company at The Broadwater
Through October 29
RECOMMENDED
As in Stupid Fucking Bird, his contemporary adaptation of The Seagull directed by Michael Michetti at Boston Court Pasadena in 2014, Aaron Posner’s Life Sucks takes inspiration from another of Chekhov’s great works, Uncle Vanya. A rumination on life, love and loss, its Chekhovian perspective filtered through our modern sensibilities, it’s a droll, wit-filled dramedy, regretfully receiving a “just okay” staging by director Barry Heins.
In Posner’s modern spinoff, Sonia (Olivia Castanho) — kind, intelligent, hard working and unglamorous — labors on the estate left to her by her dead mom. She works in tandem with her glum uncle Vanya (John Ross Bowie), a schlemiel who wanders around the house finding things to do or repair (and making more work for Sonia, who’s continually picking up after him). Uncle and niece share their household with Babs (Anne Gee Byrd), a close friend of Sonia’s mother who came to live with them after her death, and Pickles (Lily Rains) a bohemian relative of indeterminate familial status still grieving the desertion of her same-sex lover 17 years prior. The household is regularly visited by Dr. Aster (Marc Valera), Sonia’s secret heartthrob who’s oblivious to her devotion; it’s also currently hosting Sonia’s distant father, The Professor (Steve Vinovich), who is married to the sexy, much-younger Ella (Erin Pineda), whose attentions and affections everyone covets.
These differences aside, Life Sucks hews to Chekhov’s fundamental themes — unrequited love and (just about) everyone’s desperate need to find meaning in a world collapsing and beyond their control. The dystopian ecological disaster that we read about on the front (or back) or our newspapers similarly weaves an ambivalent thread within these characters’ lives. Front and center to the plot is Vanya’s yearning for Ella and his profound despisal of her intellectually snobbish, self-important spouse. Second comes the quiet but no less tenacious obsession of Sonia for the driven doctor, whose awareness of the ecological disaster at our doorstep propels his relentless activity despite believing, in his heart, that all is useless. It bears mention that, after getting a look at Ella, he inquires if she’s the faithful type, then — notwithstanding his friendship with Vanya — embarks on an effort to seduce her.
One needn’t be familiar with Chekhov to appreciate the nuanced sensibility and comic indulgence in Posner’s telling. One of the pleasures of his script is its multiple allusions to life’s small, simple details, contemporary and otherwise. Some of these emerge at intervals when the fourth wall comes down and the characters share their likes and dislikes — a lonely breakfast, an ancient church, a cool pillow on a hot night. Other times the confessions and interchanges are more intimate and revelatory, having to do with love, sex, or soul-searching angst. (I’ve beenthere, you think to yourself as you engage in the play.) Always these revelations come with the awkward, comical yet redeeming sentiment that we’re all in this together.
In this production directed by Heins, the text’s rich relatable narrative comes poignantly alive around Castanho’s Sonia; it’s a portrayal that emanates with all the truthful complexity the playwright intended. As Vanya, Bowie looks his role — and were this TV he would be just fine — but the multiple dimensions of his character, beyond the comic loser, the sullen rejected suitor — are rarely on view. One might say the same for Vinovich’s Professor, well-cast for pompous type, but how much richer this might be if we actually did see him dabble in self-doubt.
Some of the other roles seem questionably cast. Valera’s Dr. Aster, designated by the playwright as in his 50s, seems rather restrained given the dynamic he’s supposed to impart. And age appropriateness becomes a factor when a backstory involving Byrd’s Babs becomes the focus, and the 12-year age gap between these two characters, as described in the script, is implausibly represented on the stage.
What struck me as most off-kilter is the presentation of Ella as a woman who continually and blatantly flaunts her erotic appeal (underscored by costume designer Michael Mullen’s slit-to-the-max caftans and revealing decolletage)— yet is astounded to realize that this is largely how people measure her value, and so is swift with her tongue-lashings. A subtler classier rendering of this character would emphasize — as Posner’s dialogue does in fact do — the authentic predicament of beautiful intelligent women who are devalued in this way, no matter their true wisdom or worth.
Lit by Carol Doehring, Evan A. Bartoletti’s super-lovely set is delightfully decked with all manner of chachkas and tapestries, with a tasteful photo of a family matriarch —Sonia’s deceased mother? —displayed above the mantel. Yet even as one admires Bartoletti’s visuals, one wonders who in the story might be credited with this classy bohemian decor — apart from Ella, everyone is garbed as frumpily as can be, even the poseur professor. It made me think again that, notwithstanding its strengths, the finer points of the production — that which makes for excellence — had not been thought through terribly well.
Interact Theatre Company at The Broadwater Mainstage, 1076 Lillian Way, Hollywood. Fri.-Sat., 8 pm. Sun., 3 pm; thru Oct. 29. https://ineractla.org Running time: approximately two hours and 10 minutes with intermission.
