The Waiting Game

F

It’s only mid-February, but I have already suffered through what I expect will be a strong contender for the worst play I see this year. I was drawn to this 59E59 Theaters production of Charles Gershman's (Free and Proud) play after reading that it won the Best Overseas Play award at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. If this won the prize, I shudder to think what the competition must have been like. The four characters are 30-something gay men who look like they spend a lot of time at the gym. Paolo (Marc Sinoway; Adam Minus Josh) and Sam (Ibsen Santos; The Wild Heart) have been married for ten years. A year ago, Sam went into a coma after a drug overdose and is basically brain dead. For a year before his overdose, Sam was carrying on an affair with Geoff (Joshua Bouchard; One Lieutenant Too Many). Meanwhile Paolo has been seeing Tyler (Julian Joseph; Bridesburg) but has been emotionally unavailable to him. As his husband, Paolo has control over Sam’s care, but Geoff wants him to sign over conservatorship to him, claiming that he was the one whom Sam loved toward the end and the one who knew his wishes about end of life care. To add a bit of mystery to the proceedings, Paolo seems to be getting online texts from the comatose Sam. This situation may sound promising, but the action is as comatose as Sam. Paolo may be sexy, but his drug use and mistrustful manipulative personality make him so unsympathetic that it is difficult to care about him. Geoff seems a decent sort who wants to do right by Sam. Tyler clings to the hope that Paolo will get over Sam and be nicer. We see poor Sam mostly as a figure walking slowly across the stage behind a scrim. Each character is waiting for something that never happens. After 65 long, long minutes, the play grinds to a halt. The set design by Riw Rakkulchon (Loose Canon) is minimalist to the nth degree. There is a rectangle chalked on the floor. The actors remove props from some onstage cubes and line them up on the floor just outside the rectangle. Clusters of words from the script are occasionally projected on the scrim. No costume designer is credited. The actors are convincing in their roles. For some reason they perform barefoot. Nathan Wright directed. Unless seeing four hunky men is enough to make your evening, you can skip this one. Perhaps it has some value as a warning to put your end of life wishes in writing.