Burst - The Longwood Players
Pictured: Mia Trubelja, Dylan C. Wack, and Sophia Koevary. Photo: Amy Leigh Horan.
Burst – The Longwood Players
Review by James Wilkinson
Burst is presented by The Longwood Players. Written by Amy Leigh Horan. Directed by Adrienne Boris. Scenic Designer: Ryan Bates. Assistant Scenic Designer/Props Master: Steven Doucette. Lighting Designer: Jessica Elliott. Costume Designer: Drew Myers-Regulinski. Assistant Costume Designer: Bonnie Fitzgerald. Sound Designer: Jay Mobley.
The Longwood Players’ production of Burst builds its drama on the landmine-strewn landscape of a hospital waiting room. The set, by designer Ryan Bates, sits rather unassumingly as you first walk into the theater. The floor pattern is made up of the pastel-colored geometric shapes you find in administrative buildings. A collection of wide, armless chairs is meticulously arranged in a large circle. Off in one corner are a few board games that have clearly been here for a while, but rarely used. Upstage a large plexiglass window boxes the room in. Through the glass is only blackness. Everything about the room radiates calm, but not necessarily warmth. That’s fine. It’s designed that way. Anyone who has had to spend any time in the waiting room of an intensive care unit (and I suppose that we’ll all end up there at one point or another), knows that the emotional landmines aren’t provided by the building. They’re brought in by the people visiting. In the high-stakes, high-stress moments when loved ones’ lives are on the line, petty and not-so-petty grievances can become weaponized.
The most important character in Burst is one we’re never going to meet, the mother of our protagonists. She’s a patient in this hospital, having recently suffered a brain aneurism. While she lies unresponsive in the ICU, her three children, Erin, Stephen and Ally (Mia Trubelja, Dylan C. Wack and Sophia Koevary) have little to do but set up camp in the hospital and wait for some word of their mother’s fate. The prognosis isn’t exactly optimistic with the possible outcomes ranging from bad (serious physical and mental impairment for the remainder of her life) to worse (death). Still, the three siblings remain in that waiting room, hoping for a miracle as they contemplate the possibility of life without their mother. As they do, we’ll catch glimpses of their lives and relationships prior to this tragedy, gradually filling in a larger portrait of a family coming together.
Alright, first, the positives. I think that director Adrienne Boris gives the play a really nice staging that appears simple, but is full of some really nice subtleties. I was a huge fan of the production of Or, that she directed a few years ago for Maiden Phoenix/Simple Machine. That show was a fast-paced farce that had a real snap to it when it got going. Here, we’re in different territory, aiming for something closer to real life, but I think the same care in the staging is still noticeable. Except for a few monologues delivered to the offstage mother, the entire play takes place in the one room. It’s not easy to keep such a scenario visually interesting for an entire evening, but Boris is able to keep her characters moving in a way that the scenes never feel repetitive.
Likewise, the set by Ryan Bates has some nice touches to it, that keep it from feeling like a one-note song. While most of the play takes place in the very naturalistic setting of the waiting room, Bates (which some help from lighting designer Jessica Elliott) manages to create more abstract area for the scenes where the characters are talking to the unresponsive mother. I don’t want to give the game away, but suffice to say that Bates and Elliott manage to create a space that’s more infused with the emotions of the characters. For them, speaking to their comatose mother is an unreal state, so when they do so, the space around them becomes a little unreal as well.
A word, too, should be said for the actors, who I think are all perfectly charming in their respective roles. There’s a gentleness in how they approach their characters and each manages to carve out a few nice moments for themselves in the course of the evening. Despite the heavy subject matter, the play is ostensibly a comedy and the actors manage to draw it out without mugging for the camera. There’s a really nice bit mid-show when try teaching a dance to the others for a wedding that they’ll be attending. For a moment, the characters are able to let the stress and anxiety of what they’ve been going through fall away and the potential for joy comes rushing in.
My problem, though, (and yes, I’m afraid that there is a problem), is that despite all of the above, I walked away from the show thinking, “It’s not enough.” I don’t mean that there’s not enough plot or show. The script by Amy Leigh Horan provides a number of plot threads that could be interesting if investigated, but the play doesn’t seem to want to do that. The heavy moments never feel as though they have any weight. An issue is raised, it’s immediately resolved and then never referenced again. It’s possible that Horan is going for a naturalistic approach in her storytelling, but it just feels like lost possibilities. It also doesn’t help that the premise where a family comes together when one member is having a health crisis is one that’s been covered before in countless other plays, movies and television shows. It’s practically a genre in itself. Burst passes by efficiently enough, but it never offers us anything new for that genre. Granted, it’s not required that every artistic work reinvent the wheel, but if it’s not going to do that, then I want it to dig into what it’s doing. Burst just feels a bit too slight to be truly satisfying..
Burst is presented by The Longwood Players at Chelsea Theatre Works December 6-14, 2019.
For tickets and more information, visit their website, www.longwoodplayers.org
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