Unforgettable ‘The Whale’ is more dark than comedy

Dark comedy is in the DNA at Tempe’s Stray Cat Theatre, but although there are a few laughs to be found in “The Whale,” they are overwhelmed by the unflinching honesty of the alternative troupe’s latest foray into the shadowy back alleys of the human experience.

The title role (sort of) in Samuel D. Hunter’s harrowing character study is Charlie, an Idaho shut-in so morbidly obese that he has lost track of his weight — north of 550 pounds, maybe even 600. Resigned to an early, mortifying death, he makes no excuses for his behavior, but he does apologize, so incessantly and dolefully that he drives his last loyal friend to distraction.

This is a tough, tough role, both on the actor and the audience, and it’s hard to imagine a more powerful, laid-bare portrayal than that of Damon Dering. The founder of Stray Cat’s “sister company,” Nearly Naked Reviewed Feb. 16. Continues through Saturday, March 1. Tempe Performing Arts Center, 132 E. Sixth St. $10-$25. 480-227-1766, stray cattheatre.org. Theatre, Dering is best known for his campy plus-size drag roles, but here he dons a different kind of physical disguise — a gigantic, mostly convincing fat suit — for what just might be the performance of a lifetime.

Charlie’s downward spiral was sparked by the death years earlier of his boyfriend. The tragic backstory is slowly unwound in a series of exchanges with the play’s secondary characters. These include Liz (Anne Marie Falvey), a chain-smoking nurse who puts up a tough-love exterior but turns out to be a good old-fashioned enabler; Elder Thomas (Austin Kiehle), a Mormon missionary whose spiritual counseling is sincerely offered but based on a paucity of life experience; and Ellie (Michelle Chin), a madat-the-world teenager who has agreed to keep Charlie company in exchange for a paycheck.

Each of these has his or her own painful secret to reveal by play’s end, and all are rendered with unadorned sincerity by an excellent cast under the empathic direction of Stray Cat founder Ron May. (In addition to the aforementioned actors, a late appearance by company regular Johanna Carlisle makes the kind of fiery impact we’ve come to expect from her.)

Unlike most so-called dark comedies, “The Whale” makes no effort to seduce the audience with ironic punch lines or “Jerry Springer” shadenfreude. Thus it deprives us of our greatest defense — our sense of superiority — and forces us to confront the humanity underneath Charlie’s piteous exterior. This is an impressive theatrical achievement, and one that won’t be easily forgotten.