There is nothing comfortable, relatively or otherwise, about the play Relative Comfort. And although it is being touted as a comedy, Gina Schien's play has an equal amount of content that is distinctly dramatic.
Cat ( Chavez Ravine ) , a bouncer at a Chicago gay and lesbian bar called the Fruit Whip, lives with her closeted lover Sally ( Roxanne Saylor ) in the Ravenswood neighborhood. Cat's ex-lover, Jackie ( portrayed with bravado by Carolina Jimenez ) , is a poet with a drinking problem, who shows up on Cat's doorstep when she discovers that Sally's father Des ( Tom Lally ) is a big-shot at a publishing house. Jackie asks Cat to show Des her poetry manuscript, which consists of poems, some erotic, mostly about Cat, to consider it for publication. When Cat refuses, Jackie pays Sally a visit, without letting Sally know who she really is.
In fact, much of Relative Comfort deals with identity. Cat, whose mother was murdered when she was a little girl, has created an identity based on the muscular physique she spends hours sculpting in a gym. Sally, a caterer who specializes in lesbian commitment ceremonies, lives with Cat and is romantically involved with her, yet she can't come out to her father, thereby being honest about who she really is. Sally's father is an alcoholic who is emerging from his own sexual closet.
The two characters who seem to be the most secure in their own identities are Jackie and Des's sister Lorna ( Kate Briere ) , a celebrant officiating at weddings and commitment ceremonies. It's hard to tell if these two characters were more solidly written or whether the actresses playing the parts were just better performers. In any event, their performances were the most enjoyable and believable.
So, who is really at fault here? At times Schien's characters shine, but they are often buried under pretentious dialogue. Plays about fictional poets are often a good reason not to go to the theater. J. Kingsford Goode's direction alternately moves the cast through their paces in an efficient manner and leaves them ( and the audience ) in the dark, making for cold comfort. Relative Comfort is nothing to be proud of, as theater of "pride" goes.
"C-" Bailiwick, ( 773 ) 883-1090, thru July 2.