Playwright: Sarah Kane
At: Hypocrites at Steppenwolf Garage, 1624 N. Halsted
Phone: ( 312 ) 335-1650; $15
Runs through: Dec. 18
Some might call 4.48 Psychosis a suicide note. There are always 'some' who can't seem to recognize genius when it's staring them in the face. 4.48 Psychosis is the final play written by Sarah Kane, whose creative life was tragically cut short at the age of 28 when she hanged herself. Because 4.48 Psychosis ( the title refers to 4:48 a.m., a time when boundaries between being awake and dreaming blur ) is about suicidal depression, many critics and audiences have been unable to realize that this is not simply an autobiographical statement. Certainly, the play, written more as a modernist poem than a script ( there are no character delineations or stage directions ) , has the ring of authenticity. Kane knew what she was writing about when she did her lyrical, dark, and often funny take on depression and what pushes a human being toward ending her own life. But to classify 4.48 Psychosis as autobiography, a farewell in poetic form, is to do the play, and its author, a grave injustice. 4.48 Psychosis stands on its own as a brilliant marriage of form and content, a mesmerizing and painfully intimate meditation on despair.
A play comprised of therapy sessions, diary entries, rants about the futility of life and love, and the expression of a fervent hope for human connection aren't exactly the stuff of light entertainment. But who needs that when you have a piece of art that engages you so completely and grabs you so roughly and intimately that you can't help but be deeply and completely emotionally involved? And even though this is a dark, dark evening of theater that may bring you equal measures of tears and laughter and may even at times nauseate you, there is a core of hope at its center. Before she died, Kane was quoted as saying, ''I don't find my plays depressing or lacking in hope. To create something beautiful about despair, or out of a feeling of despair, is for me the most hopeful, life-affirming thing a person can do.' Kane's brother, and executor of her estate, Simon cautioned against too literal interpretation of her work when he said, 'It is very narrow and trivial to look at a play simply as an expression of someone's biography; it limits interpretation and closes off other possible meanings. Her work is much richer than just an expression of personal anguish.'
Because Kane left her work open to interpretation when it comes to staging, it must find the right hands in order for it to succeed. Luckily for Chicago audiences, this play fell into the hands of emerging genius Sean Graney, who secures a place with this work at the very forefront of Chicago's best directors. Another way Kane's suicide is tragic is that she isn't alive to see this amazing interpretation of her work. Without going into detail about what to expect specifically, Graney manages to lay open the pain, anguish, despair, heart, and humor at the play's center so intimately that you simply cannot walk away from the theater unchanged.
Graney was fortunate to work with a design team that shares his creative vision and to have a lead ( Stacy Stoltz ) up to the demands of this complicated role. Stoltz is riveting, grabbing you painfully and forcing you to not just witness her journey, but to be right there with her. When this play ends, and one of the characters steps up in the stillness and says, 'Please open the curtains,' it feels like you can breathe again.