Playwright: Mia McCullough
At: Steppenwolf Garage Theatre
Phone: ( 312 ) 335-1650; $12
Runs through: April 6
Taking Care is a domestic drama built around two people of circumscribed emotions, an 80-ish mother and her 45-year-old, mentally ill son. Although smacking of truth, this world premiere's small scale and dependence on production elements make it more of a playwriting study than a leap forward for author Mia McCullough. It may be underwritten at this stage of development.
Taking Care is pithy in the extreme, running just 95 minutes yet broken into a dozen scenes spanning seven years. McCullough forces us to take Ma and Ben at face value, for she offers little expository detail. We never learn the exact nature of Ben's illness ( he's compulsive, unkempt, generally silent and agoraphobic but intelligent ) or why he refuses medications. As for Ma, there are hints she may have been an abusive mother who's husband left her after 34 years, but the details remain vague. She has rocky relationships with her two daughters, who phone her daily anyway.
Since Ben rarely speaks, the emotions between Ma and Ben largely are unverbalized, making physical action as important as dialogue; indeed, often more important. Ben expresses himself through twitching hands, a hang-dog face and occasional angry outbursts. When Ben wordlessly breaks his compulsive behavior to rearrange the furniture to accommodate his injured mother, it is a turning point in the play that speaks volumes. For her part, Ma often speaks into air, with no one to understand or respond to her. Sharing physical space and deeply co-dependent, Ben and Ma each exists in terrible isolation nonetheless.
Taking Care denies its two actors the usual reaction and support between characters. How do you play off another character who isn't there? Roslyn Alexander and Guy Van Swearingen find answers, under tyro director Tim Hopper. The burden largely sits on Alexander's strong veteran shoulders. A senior citizen herself, Alexander retains remarkable physical agility and speed, coupled with an understated vocal technique of the 'throw-away' school ( making each line sound like a casual remark ) . She also makes on-stage telephone calls absolutely believable, an important element in Taking Care.
By contrast, Van Swearingen's principal tools are eccentric physical mannerisms such as a shaggy wig, a heavy and loping walk, a blank stare. At least in part due to the script itself, the distinction between mental illness and retardation sometimes is blurred. For example, Ben's personal slovenliness seems not so much illness as inability. Nonetheless, both performers create oodles of subtext as guided by Hopper's occasionally too deliberate direction.
Russell Poole's set is delightfully accurate in its 1960's detail, while Joshua Horvath's irritating but effective sound design is utterly crucial in marking the passage of time. Taking Care would be far less effective without them.
