Clever rom-com charms in Berkeley
‘Elevada’ elevated by a terrific cast in Shotgun Players’ production
Two young people seem to really be hitting it off on an adorably awkward blind date. He’s terribly nervous, and she seems unflappably, generously confident. But there wouldn’t be much to a romantic comedy if things were that simple, and Sheila Callaghan’s “Elevada” at Shotgun Players’ Ashby Stage in Berkeley throws in some especially unusual twists right in the first scene. We learn Khalil is a notorious, reclusive online agitator currently in negotiations to sell all rights to his identity to a telecommunications conglomerate. Ramona is dying of cancer. This time last year Shotgun produced Callaghan’s wild comedy “Women Laughing Alone with Salad,” a surreal, scattershot satire of advertising images of women. Some of the same team are involved in this play, most prominently director Susannah Martin and performer Sango Tajima, but what’s interesting about “Elevada” is how little it subverts the popular tropes of romantic comedies. Instead it lovingly plays with and plays into those tropes — particularly those found in 1980s movies, though this isn’t a period piece. The complete opposites who couldn’t possibly hit it off? You know they’re going to hit it off. Is there a rush-to-the-airport scene? Maybe a dance party? Oh, you bet there is. What makes it feel fresh (some of it, anyway) is Callaghan’s sharply clever dialogue and a terrific cast in Martin’s sure-handed staging. As Ramona, Tajima radiates adventurous enthusiasm in a way that doesn’t at all contradict the moments when the cracks in her confidence show. There are several moments that just show Ramona quietly alone out in the crowded world, isolated in the experience of her illness no matter how many people may have her back. Wes Gabrillo’s Khalil is endearingly anxious but also perfectly willing to go with the flow once his interest in Ramona draws him out of his shell. It’s striking how entirely both protagonists are defined by their budding relationship and their respective plights. I’m not sure we even learn their names until a few scenes into the play. Khalil is supposedly a prominent activist, but he almost never talks about politics or displays much interest in the subject. If Ramona ever had a job or aspirations, we don’t know about any of that. What she has is her illness, her sister and Khalil. Both of them have the obligatory bestfriend-as-foil types. Played with prickly unrest by Karen Offereins, Ramona’s sister June is uptight and controlling, her self-appointed caretaker in both illness and relationships, despite the fact that she herself is still reeling from a breakup. A real estate agent, June is always immaculately dressed in Alice Ruiz’s costumes. Aside from also being broken by a breakup, Soren Santos is pretty much the opposite as Khalil’s roommate Owen. He’s laid-back to a fault unless he’s having a drunken meltdown, the kind of guy for whom wearing clean underwear qualifies as dressing up. Santos’ Owen is hilariously incorrigible in his refreshing forthrightness, especially when he’s inevitably put up against the witheringly judgmental June. Callaghan plays a lot with the idea that both lovers are living on borrowed time, banking on the idea that they’ll soon cease to exist, which gives them additional license for adventure. “Elevada” is a tango term for minimal contact with the ground, and there is a little tango dancing right at the end of the play. Really, though, there’s a bit more pole dancing, amusingly choreographed by Natalie Greene and particularly energetically executed by Tajima. New York City is practically another character in the play, brought to life in Erin Gilley’s video backgrounds projected over Mikiko Uesugi’s versatile set of white walls framed by brick ones. The story might be more resonant if the characters were more fully fleshed out — and, most crucially, if they had more life to change. In the moment, however, the marvelous performances make us more than willing to tag along wherever they take us.