‘Life’ needs development
The Oscar-winning cowriter of the film “Birdman,” Alexander Dinelaris toys with themes of human mortality and the after-effects of pathological parenting in his frustratingly uneven play “Still Life,” now at Rogue Machine Theatre.
The action centers on Carrie Ann (Laurie Okin), a successful professional photographer who recently lost her father, Theo (Frank Collison), also a professional photographer. That death has resulted in Carrie Ann’s complete artistic paralysis — a grief that Dinelaris aggrandizes far past its dramatic viability.
Carrie Ann meets trend analyst Jeffrey (Lea Coco) at an exhibition of her work. Metaphorical images of dead animals strike a chord with Jeffrey, who happens to be awaiting his own potentially dire medical prognosis. The two quickly become an item, but even meeting the love of her life is not enough to snap Carrie Ann out of her professional torpor. A modern-day Bartleby, the Photographer, she simply prefers not to pick up a camera — much to our increasing exasperation.
Dinelaris mingles the corrosive with the treacly in his meandering drama, which often seems like a blitz of unrelated scenes and monologues. However, at its most acidic, the play has offbeat characters and crisply acerbic dialogue that can fascinate. Susan Wilder is particularly effective as Joanne, a powerhouse academic and Carrie Ann’s scathingly truthful mentor, while Jonathan Bray also shines as Terry, Jeffrey’s bumptiously lecherous but emotionally fragile employer. Both actors layer a welcome crust onto all that soft sentimentality.
The cast also includes Nardeep Khurmi as Sean, Jeffrey’s doctor friend; Jennifer Sorenson, who plays, among other roles, Sean’s wife; and Tania Verafield as a student photographer who accompanies Carrie Ann on a National Geographic shoot to the Serengeti. (No, Carrie Ann still won’t take a picture.) As a last-minute substitute for another actor, Verafield also played several other roles with considerable aplomb.
Thomas Buderwitz’s set, flanked by blown-up projections of ill-composed photographs, is simple to a fault. Although director Michael Peretzian delivers a few crackling scenes, he fails to stop the play’s slow slide into bathos. Peretzian consistently coats the proceedings in honey when an acid bath is required.