Playwright: Laura Eason. At: Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted. Phone: 312-335-1650; $20-$73. Runs through: May 15
How to seduce a writer in 20 minutes: first you write a sexy book, yourselfpreferably a high-profile one sparking a cult following and a movie deal. Then you corner the writer at a retreat, where despite their quest for solitude, they will enjoy some company after days of isolation. You strike poses indicating your carnal availability, you rhapsodize over their most recent bookbe sure to quote from it, so they know you actually read itand when you're both thoroughly drunk on your own words, get physical.
After these pourparlers, however, you both must decide whether the other possesses genuine writing talent, and if the answer is yes, reconcile yourselves to there always being two egos and two careers in the room. Olivia and Ethan, the scribblers in Laura Eason's play, neglect this last step, making for a rocky journey as they explore their differencesshe's a novelist, he's a bloggerand chart the ethical boundaries of their disparate aesthetics. But canshouldcreative artists put aside what makes them special to achieve the kind of intimacy shared by those who can make love, but not art?
This is not a question most audience members ever need to confront. It's one thing to study writers-in-love from the safety of a literature classroom, but to witness the conflicts unfolding onstage in the right-now universe of the internet, amid a wealth of techno-eye candy (laptops, iPads, smartphones that shut up only after nature sabotages the relay tower), is to gain insight into a world that consumers prefer to ignore. So when the play ends on a deliberately uncertain note, each individual is left to assess their own response to what they have seen, and the level of empathy engendered by the depth of their own experienceor lack thereof.
Sally Murphy's experience at portraying reclusive middle-aged spinsters exceeds that of Stephen Louis Grush (sporting some new tattoos since we last saw his bare torso in The Tempest) at playing sullen young boy toys, so it's easier for us to acknowledge duplicity in Ethan's stratagems than to entertain suspicion of Olivia's. That said, there's no denying the voyeuristic fascination in viewing the progress of an aesthete and a greedhead gradually adopting one another's valueswith many hesitations, to be sure, but no regretsand in doing so, forging an inextricable bond forever incomprehensible to outsiders.