Annie Torsiglieri (Photo by Lore Photography)
Reviewed by Philip Brandes
Rubicon Theatre Company
Through April 28
RECOMMENDED
“I’d led a reasonably charmed life,” begins actor/playwright Annie Torsiglieri as her stand-in narrator, Amy, checks off the boxes of her one-time contentment: Loving parents. Safe suburban existence. A husband who was also her best friend. Yep, even a golden retriever. The birth of twin boys seemed to promise the fulfillment of best laid plans for a happy family.
And God laughed.
An early autism diagnosis in one of her sons puts Amy’s life on a very different track in “‘A” Train,” Torsiglieri’s impassioned autobiographical solo performance piece at the Rubicon Theatre in Ventura. Weaving personal history, original songs, and abundant humor, the show explores the confusion, frustrations, and unexpected joys in raising a child on the autism spectrum.
“OK, other parents,” Amy asks us up front, “when you first found out about your autistic child, who stepped in and helped?” The question is rhetorical. There was virtually no help available nearly twenty years ago, when Amy received her son Davey’s diagnosis —“autism” was more or less a catch-all label for poorly understood behavioral problems for which the knee-jerk recommended “treatment” was institutionalization. As Amy remarks, “I found out pretty quick there was no conductor on this train.”
Torsiglieri’s skilled performance ensures we feel every pang of heartbreak when Davey refuses to make eye contact or acknowledge Amy’s existence, starting with his early “love affair with the ceiling fan, which I can never be.” Her frustrations continue with his later fixation on local New York subway trains, and his ability to name the stops and recite all the recorded station announcements.
The journey is as much Amy’s as it is Davey’s. Hence the show’s title, an autism parent’s metaphorical train ride with various wittily-designated stops along the way: Freak the Fuck Out Station to Up the Stream Without a POT to Piss in Station to Shit Hits the Fan Station to Medical Consensus Station (fake-out: that last one doesn’t exist).
Throughout her story Amy proves an engaging raconteur, relying on humor and proficiency with new-found expletives added to her Catholic school vocabulary. “I’ve always found it incredibly comforting to channel my problems into showtunes,” she confesses, and proceeds to demonstrate with newly invented lyrics to tunes from “The Music Man,” “Gypsy,” and “The Pirates of Penzance,” with onstage keyboard accompaniment by Brad Carroll.
In researching and developing “‘A” Train,” Torsiglieri and director Risa Brainin consulted parents, educators, social workers, medical researchers, and other experts. Verbatim interview content has been incorporated or combined into various characters here, offering different perspectives on our evolving understanding of the extent and complexity of autism spectrum disorder (according to CDC estimates, one in 36 children is currently identified with ASD). The upshot is that although there’s now greater acceptance and appreciation for the behavioral range of the autism spectrum, consistent causes and treatments remain frustratingly out of reach.
Presented in partnership with the Art of Autism networking nonprofit, the show includes projected artwork and an adjacent exhibit of the paintings by members of the autism community.
Left to her own initiative, internet searches, and trial-and-error, Amy’s perseverance pays off in little triumphs — from figuring out a diet Davey can tolerate to learning to delight in his mastery of the subway network.
“A” Train offers an excellent performance and significant social import. Structurally, though, it still needs work. Torsiglieri’s lightning-fast character transitions are flawlessly executed, but as she cycles through them, keeping track of who is who poses an additional challenge for the viewer (In its 2022 production of the single-performer version of “Twilight: Los Angeles, 1992, Rubicon effectively employed projected character names and roles — a similar solution would be helpful here).
Throughout the show, repeated references to “strawberries” and “tigers” seem to come out of nowhere. In the closing minutes they’re ultimately connected to a Zen fable about treasuring joy in the moment, but the mystery conceit is a puzzling distraction when there’s more than enough meaningful content to focus on. It’s a bit too clever — moving the fable closer to the beginning would better frame the show’s content and more sharply focus its message.
Rubicon Theatre, 1006 E. Main Street, Ventura; Wed., 2 and 7 pm, Thurs & Fri, 7 pm, Sat, 2 and 7 pm, Sun, 2 pm; thru April 28. https://rubicontheatre.org. Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.
