The Injured Party
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Rogers
Photo by Henry DiRocco
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By Ben Miles
It depends (pun intended) on a person's individual constitution, but an hour and forty-five minutes--without an intermission!--is an uncomfortable amount of time for this presumably healthy critic to sit in a theater. Drama presented without an interval appears to be a growing trend in various productions of late. This unfortunate tendency, to push a theatergoer to his or her physiological capacity, is perpetuated by Richard Greenberg's The Injured Party--in a world premiere production on the Julianne Argyros Stage of South Coast Repertory, through May 11. The intrigue of the play's plotline lies in a grown grandson wishing to somehow hasten the demise of the 94 year-old family matriarch, Maxene. It's not a story of murder, however. Rather, it's a tale that dares to probe the existential mysteries of the cosmos.
Set in New York City in 2005, The Injured Party unfolds during the post-911 period. At the time, newly elected Mayor Michael Bloomberg promoted an artistic salve for Manhattan and America: the installation of Christo and Jeanne-Claude's aesthetic display, "The Gates." The effort amounted to placing 7,503 "Gate" flags, twelve spaces apart, throughout Central Park. Once in place, the sizeable silky, saffron-hued banners flowed along 23 miles of park pathway. To the delight of the artists, a hot dog vender offered this appraisal of the feat: "It's just a piece of art. You look at it and just keep going." The same might be said of Greenberg's conceit, and maybe that's the epiphany of the show: Just keep going. As in a dream, the temporal Injured Party, like "The Gates" exhibition, is likely to linger in the memory and often cross the minds of those who experience the artistic offering.
Reg Rogers embodies the thirty-something grandson, Seth. In the tradition of Woody Allen and Richard Lewis, Rogers jumps into Greenberg's loquacious and anxiety-ridden rants like a bouncing boulder dismantling in a sublime avalanche of articulated angst. Rogers's battery of words is conveyed in the form of dialogue with other characters, as well as through asides and soliloquies.
As Becca, Marin Ireland creates a translucent characterization of this figment from Greenberg's authorial imagination. Becca, as incarnated by Ireland, is an actress who's difficult to grasp but lovely to behold; she seems somehow ethereal, much like the impermanent "Gates" swaying in the park.
Cynthia Harris is commanding as the demanding and devious nonagenarian, Maxene. Harris puts the max in this Maxene. She is formidable. But is she insurmountable?
Like Christo and Jean-Claude's "Gates," Greenberg's Injured Party--directed in an appropriately surreal fashion by Trip Cullman--with superb lighting effects (Ben Stanton) and a stellar scenic design (David Korins)--takes us to the juncture of mind and matter, flesh and soul.
Adding stardust to this thought-provoking theatrical universe are T. Scott Cunningham as the insufferable know-it-all, Lawrence; Caroline Lagerfelt as the sharp-as-a-dart tart and kleptomaniac, Bettina; and, the handsome and versatile Lorenzo Pisoni, excels in a cavalcade of roles.
The Injured Party may not heal audiences, but it will challenge them--particularly when it comes to sitting for 105 uninterrupted minutes.
The Injured Party runs Tuesdays - Sundays at 7:45 p.m. Matinees are at 2 p.m. on Saturdays and Sundays. South Coast Repertory is located at 655 Town Center Drive, in Costa Mesa. For reservations, dial (714) 708 - 5555. For more details, visit www.scr.org.
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