The Sound Inside - Speakeasy Stage
Photo Credit: Nile Scott Studios. Pictured: Jennifer Rohn.
The Sound Inside – Speakeasy Stage
Review by James Wilkinson
The Sound Inside is presented by Speakeasy Stage. Written by Adam Rapp. Directed by Bryn Boice. Scenic Design by Chistina Todesco. Costume Design by Becca Jewett. Lighting Design by Devorah Kengmana. Sound Design by David Remedios. Staring Jennifer Rohn and Nathan Malin.
When the lights come up on Speakeasy’s production of The Sound Inside, it’s going to be hard to shake the impression that everyone involved is already dead. You don’t even need to wait for the lead character to reveal her cancer diagnosis before the dark thoughts start creeping in. The set design (by Christina Todesco) encases the action in a platform set adrift in a black void, practically turning the theater into a tomb. A translucent reflection of the actors is always visible in the plexiglass walls that tower over the performance space. It’s as if they’re in a constant state of being haunted by their undead doppelgangers. During the opening monologue the lighting (design by Devorah Kengmana) keeps shifting around that lead character, throwing shadows this way and that, preventing her from ever feeling truly solid. Then there’s that sound design, (by David Remedios) constantly needling at the back of our necks. It’s grim stuff.
Adam Rapp’s play gets much of its effectiveness from our knowledge of other explosive two-handers about college professors and their students. Collected Stories, Oleanna, The Niceties. The second Christopher (Nathan Malin) walks into the Yale English department office of Professor Bella Baird (Jennifer Rohn), we can probably guess that this isn’t going to go well. We don’t need all of the hints the design has already slathered on us; we’re just waiting for the shoe to drop. When it comes in the last third of the play, (because of course it does), it’s a doozy of a drop. You might, (as I do), have reservations about totally throwing yourself behind the work; certain elements seem to beg to be called out as cheap. But when the end product is as effective as this is, who cares about being cheap? Speakeasy’s production helmed by director Bryn Boice, is a slick piece of theatre that’s perversely enjoyable. It’s determined to get at you and it succeeds. You won’t be making the mistake of viewing this as a passive act. By the end, you’re not so much ground down as wrung out, making the prospect of leaving the theater to go off and do something happy feel wildly inappropriate.
An air of detachment swirls around the stage; a barrenness that contributes to the feeling we’ve landed in purgatory. Boice’s staging manages to strip the characters to their atomic weight without making a show of it. A character crosses the stage to exit the room and even without any sort of physical exaggeration, the move feels unnatural. It’s because we’re not always confident in the characters’ motives. There always seem to be several possibilities for how they’re about to react, for how disaster is about to strike. Rapp seems to be having a hell of a time teasing the audience. You can practically hear him cackling over the keyboard as the narrative starts to suggest where it’s going to go, only to pull back at the last minute. There are limits to the approach, several suggested possibilities hover dangerously close to indulging in cliches about teachers and their students. In those moments it’s not the production we’re responding to, it’s the dread of having to sit through the cliché. Thankfully, Rapp never barrels over the cliff and it’s hard to deny a certain amount of pleasure in being taken to the edge this much.
Speakeasy’s production of The Children, also helmed by Boice, was one of the last plays I saw/reviewed before the pandemic shut everything down. I was decidedly more mixed on the production than a lot of other critics. It too, reached for a darker dread-infused atmosphere, but felt to me like it missed the mark. It didn’t stick with you the way it was convinced it did. Here it feels like Boice has given us more space to breathe, letting us fill ourselves with what’s on stage. Rather than sealing us off from the action, we rush in to meet it. Occasionally, when the design elements push a bit too far, you’re pulled out. The squirming you feel isn’t so much from the story we’re watching as from that needling at the back of your neck. But it’s all part of Boice embracing the dark humor of the piece, cackling along with Rapp while she puts the screws to us.
Jennifer Rohn is marvelous in the lead role, nailing vibe of an east coast humanities professor. Her Bella Baird speaks in the perfectly annunciated syllables and elevated tones of a woman who’s dedicated her life to speaking to large groups of undergraduate students, trying to get them to care about the characters in all those books sitting on her shelves. Rapp’s script makes some big asks of the actress, (And by the way, I’ve purposefully avoided talking about the plot. Trust me folks, you want to walk into this one blind). The character makes a few choices in her interactions with her student that on paper might seem a bit of a stretch. Rohn, though, manages to smooth out the character, presenting her as a complete woman wrestling with a deep loneliness. You might question her choices as you leave the theater, but Rohn makes you believe it in the moment. She’s playing an unsentimental woman but cracks of warmth keep coming through. A glow fades into her eyes as she glimpses the possibility of human connection.
As Christopher, the student Rohn’s Baird connects with, actor Nathan Malin (who was easily the best part of Speakeasy’s Admissions in 2019), isn’t as successful. Though, I’m not sure that’s entirely his fault. There are too many jagged edges to the character. It doesn’t feel like he’s been fully thought through by Rapp the way Baird has been. The character keeps taking sharp turns, which does provide some of the play’s easier jokes but prevents us from getting as close to the character. Perhaps he needs to remain opaque for Rapp’s conceit to work, but it comes at the expense of connection. When the character makes a rather significant decision late in the play, we’re given no sense of his thought process. He exits the play a mystery, little more than a device of the storytelling.
It’s an odd time in Boston theatre. After so much time gone, (and with what’s happened while we were gone), we’re all trying to answer that question, “Just what the hell are we doing here?” Personally, I’ve found it somewhat depressing just how many theaters have been telling to audiences to come on in so that we can make you feel good, (the idea being, I guess, to pitch theater as a form of collective Xanax). The best thing I can say about Speakeasy’s The Sound Inside is that it doesn’t care about making you feel good. A sentiment, oddly enough, that makes me feel very good.
The Sound Inside is presented by Speakeasy Stage in the Calderwood Pavilion at the Boston Center for the Arts September 24-Oct 16, 2021. For tickets and more information, visit their website: www.speakeasystage.com
Interested patrons should note that proof of COVID vaccination OR a negative COVID test will be required for entry. Masks must be worn at all times during the performance. For more information on the policy, visit Speakeasy’s website.
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