Playwright: Karen Hartman. At: Victory Gardens Theater, 2433 N. Lincoln Ave. Tickets: 773-871-3000; VictoryGardens.org; $15-$60. Runs through: Dec. 11
There's no denying the heartbreaking and historic resonance of Roz and Ray, Karen Hartman's two-actor AIDS drama now making a rolling world premiere at Victory Gardens Theater. Yet it's hard to ignore so many dialogue and characterization pitfalls in Roz and Ray, which concludes on a preachy and resigned note that doesn't feel entirely earned.
Hartman wrote Roz and Ray to reflect on her late father, who was a pediatric hematologist-oncologist who treated hemophiliac kids from the 1970s through the early 1990s. That's when the HIV virus entered the blood supply with a vengeance. Approximately 90 percent of severe hemophiliacs died from AIDS.
In Roz and Ray, Hartman personalizes the crisis down to the 15-year relationship between Dr. "Roz" Kagan ( Mary Beth Fisher ) and Ray Leon ( James Vincent Meredith ), a single father of twin hemophiliac boys. The play begins on a playful note in 1976, as Dr. Roz demonstrates to the kids on how to inject the "miraculous" blood clotting medication Factor 8. Then the play abruptly jumps ahead to 1991, with Ray shouting out "Dr. Roz Kagan Killed My Son" in a one-man protest outside a San Diego children's hospital.
Hartman's time-shifting set up unquestionably creates tension and dread as it braces audiences for an upsetting journey. She also does a marvelous job of clearly explaining all the medical jargon in the first few scenes.
Unfortunately, there are several times that Hartman's dialogue doesn't come off as natural. Also, Hartman's decision to make Ray a semi-closeted bisexual feels more like a plot device instead of a believable character. The exchange where Dr. Roz asks pointblank if Ray is gay doesn't dig deep enough to explore Ray's likely self-loathing or denial.
The closing scene of the two making forecasts about the future also suffers from having the playwright's benefit of hindsight coloring the dialogue instead of what the characters might actually know—even if they do make predictions that still have not come true.
If the script for Roz and Ray is sometimes disappointing, all the other elements at Victory Gardens are polished and professional—particularly Fisher and Meredith's impassioned performances as they shift from moments of pure elation to angry disgust.
Director Chay Yew keeps things focused atop Tim Mackabee's turntable set that is filled with a jumble of childhood toys and furniture all painted white. Lighting designer Diane D. Fairchild also punctuates the drama to play up particularly ominous moments to eerie effect.
Roz and Ray is a bitter pill to swallow as it dramatizes the fear and outrage that came from all directions during the start of the AIDS crisis. Hartman's play is unquestionably a noble and entertaining effort, even if does ultimately fall short.
