Will Beckstrom and Niki Jay. Photo by Jonathan Hemphill.
Described by its publisher as an unromantic comedy and darker cousin of “Almost, Maine,” John Cariani’s “Love/Sick” premiered as a collection of nine short plays sharing themes that surround those famous three little words. Each of the playlets is a two-hander, set in “an alternate suburban reality.” The anthology traces its journey through a relatable life cycle of relationships, beginning with a love-at-first-sight story and ending with a wistful (yet still funny) revisitation of a failed marriage. All of the anticipated stations of the romantic cross are visited in between these bookends, and they’re treated with equal parts irreverence and sensitivity. Indeed, the poignant moments that happen from time to time seem to appear out of the blue, functioning as a sort of opposite of comic relief. This is a very, very funny piece of writing (and direction and acting), often characterized by absurd silliness, and the weightier beats of humanity that punctuate all this lightness are both welcome and powerful.
…fine direction and performances on display…complete mastery of the wacky absurdity on offer.
The piece starts with “Obsessive Impulsive.” The characters, played by Will Beckstrom and Niki Jay, lock eyes in a sea of shopping carts and immediately fall head over heels for each other. It’s an old story, of course but, in this instance, each of them suffers from a rare psychological condition which renders them helpless against their impulses of the moment. It’s very tricky, with lots of unison dialog. It’s also chock full of over-the-top physicality, with more kisses per minute than a high school party in your friend’s basement. Thank goodness for fine work by Kay-Megan Washington, who serves as intimacy coordinator. Jay is comically shrill in this piece, and Beckstrom matches her beat for beat. The whole thing resolves in the first of many sad endings.
“The Singing Telegram” is next, pairing Beckstrom with Dominique Solomon. Here, Solomon’s character is preparing for a date with her boyfriend when Beckstrom appears at her door instead, to deliver some news with melody. The joke of the piece is easily spotted by doppler radar three time zones away, but that doesn’t matter at all. Beckstrom is energetically uncomfortable in the extreme, and Solomon is a noisy, giddy, and dervish. It all lands with a thud, of course, but maybe a glimmer of unexplored hope, thanks to Beckstrom’s closing take. This production is thick with nuggets like that. Call it great casting, or credit great direction by Alanna Kiewe. Cariani’s script is so full of knee-slappers that it’d be easy to forget to dig beneath the surface. Kiewe and her cast don’t make that mistake.
Third on the docket is “The Two of Them” in which Charles Dickinson and Gracie Sciannella play best buddies. Their video game battle is interrupted by a confession which threatens to change their relationship and deals with a deep identity challenge. Again, the piece starts down a predictable track as Dickinson plays quiet unease beautifully and Sciannella is simply magnificent in a twistedly awkward turn. Things get quite weird, leading to a rather joyful ending.
Up next is “What?!,” featuring Dickinson and Andy Belt as a couple engaged in pure verbal slapstick. Like the opener, this bit centers a fictional pathology: Belt’s character suffers from a condition which paralyzes him in the face of that “L” word. He is achingly conflicted and damaged. Can he find “incremental steps towards joy?” Belt is back in the following piece, “The Answer,” with Niki Jay. Here, we have a version of the old “bride locks herself in the bathroom on the wedding day” trope, in which Belt’s character has feet that are literally cold. “Uh Oh” closes the first act—a creepy bit of business, with Solomon returning as a bored wife. The husband is played with convincing shock and awe by Carlo Olivi against some of the most sinister acting we’ve seen in ages. Solomon is truly scary.
Five more pieces form a second act. “Lunch and Dinner” opens with Belt joined by Laura Wheeldreyer in a rollicking romp of innuendo. Wheeldreyer plays anxious tension nicely, and Belt does his usual great job of delivering agitated discombobulation. In “Chicken,” Sciannella and Beckstrom take their turn playing the love’s-gone-stale routine. The performances are among the evening’s best. Sciannella’s takes are total dynamite, and Beckstrom’s anguish is thick and cringey. This piece features a prop moment that’s gasp-inducing.
Next is “Forgot.” In it, Glen Charlow performs his only role of the production, as husband to Wheeldreyer’s character. Together they grapple with choices about parenthood as middle age rapidly approaches. Children are a force again in the penultimate “Where Was I?” that features Jay and Solomon searching for each other and themselves in a household that’s dominated by other priorities. Finally, we’re brought back to the SuperCenter, where the whole thing began, in a piece called “Destiny.” Wheeldreyer and Olivi are exes who stumble into each other in the aisles, each displaying a lost sense of desperation that finds its way through the comedy.
“Love/Sick” was originally designed to perform at roughly 80 minutes without an intermission. The script has grown in the decade since its debut (“The Two of Them” and “Chicken” were added later), and the current iteration at Spotlighters clocks in at well over two hours. This includes an intermission, as well as ten minutes’ worth of preshow announcements. It’s a full evening of theater, to be sure. It mostly works very well, especially with the fine direction and performances on display here, but one wonders if the original version might pack a stronger punch. Kiewe, though, did great work on quite a few levels with this production. Her transitions do fine work of integrating character, and the pacing and energy she’s coaxed out of these wonderful actors is as true to the Funnier/Faster/More mantra as anything we’ve seen. Solomon and Sciannella, in particular, show complete mastery of the wacky absurdity on offer.
Running time: Two hours and 19 minutes, including one intermission.
Advisory: Use of a prop weapon and alcohol.
“Love/Sick” runs through June 9, 2024 at Spotlighters Theatre, 817 St. Paul Street, Baltimore, MD 21202. For more information and to purchase tickets, please go online.
