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Regional Reviews: Chicago You Will Get Sick Also see Karen's review of Kimberly Akimbo
On the surface, the play is about terminal illness that debilitates and dismantles an individual's life along the way. Although the unnamed main character (Namir Smallwood, credited as Actor 1) seems to be relatively young, the angle that Diaz takes on the topic makes it abundantly clear that it is as much about life and aging (the debilitating terminal illness we all share) as it is about the ready-made tragedy of "untimely" illness and death. For example, the older woman (Amy Morton, credited as Actor 2) whom Smallwood's character pays to (among other things) bear the burden of telling his family that he has become sick (as his brother before him had) is fixated on her upcoming audition to play Dorothy in a stage production of The Wizard of Oz; another older woman (also played by Morton much later on) has lost her husband to a giant bird who has carried him off; and a co-worker of the main character (Sadieh Rifai, credited as Actor 3) resents all that she is called on to do for her aging father. In wrapping its arms around this universal theme, in taking on the intriguing, productive angle of the terrible social burden thrust upon the dying to explain their situation to others and explain it again and yet again, and in shining a light on how transactional the very idea of care has become in contemporary society, the play is brilliant at times. However, although the surrealism that Diaz incorporates often rings true enough to contribute to that brilliance, there are times when the play seems to indulge in absurdity for its own sake or in a way that seem to make emotional and intellectual promises that the text does not quite fulfill. Morton's character, for example, maneuvers Smallwood's character into attending her acting class so that her own usual partner's illness won't result in an uneven number of people in the class. The teacher sets the class on a series of movement exercises, and the scene is both funny and generative as it offer insights into physical limitations that are encroaching on Smallwood's character. But it also seems to promise to shed light on Morton's character and her desires and motivations without really doing so. Similarly, in the scene in which Morton's character reluctantly agrees to meet with Smallwood's character and his sister (also played by Rifai) to deliver the news of his illness, there's an extended bit with a crying waiter (Cliff Chamberlain, credited as Actor 4) that ends up feeling rather aimless, and Polly's reaction to learning that she is poised to lose a second brother to illness is written too broadly to make much sense of and is further undermined by the fact that Rifai is called on to almost instantly shift into the role of "Teacher Taylor," who runs the acting class. Despite the imbalances in the play itself, Steppenwolf's staging is, as ever, masterful. Andrew Boyce's scenic design is deceptively simple, but in that simplicity it manages to evoke vibes ranging from German expressionism to Hitchcock with its off-kilter grid and telephone lines, outsized bird silhouettes, and dynamic vanishing points. The transition to Smallwood's character's "first home" is nothing short of spectacular, and throughout the show, Jen Schriever's lighting and Willow James's sound design support Boyce's visuals in crafting a sense of foreboding and oppression. Credit also goes to Skylar Fox for the magic and illusions design, which contribute effective moments of lightness. Raquel Adorno's costumes, unfortunately, seem curiously out of step with the otherwise strong production. Morton's character seems to be dressed in a khaki vest with numerous pockets and patches of some kind, and although her jeans seem to be simply grey or black stonewash, they initially read as military camouflage in conjunction with the vest, but this does not seem to have much to do with the character. As Polly (Smallwood's sister), Rifai wears an ostentatious fur of some kind, and later a different character she plays wears a camel hair coat draped across her shoulders, but it's not clear what this is meant to signify, other than wealth that doesn't seem particularly important to either character. Smallwood and Morton lead the production with strong performances and engaging rapport. Smallwood's physicality is particularly impressive, as the conventions of the play require him to respond to the second-person narration of experience by another actor (Jordan Arredondo, credited as Actor 5), who is offstage through most of the play. This careful, painfully in-his-own-head depiction is balanced by Morton's broad, hard-nosed character. Although Chamberlain plays characters who are sometimes central to some of to moments in the play that are a bit tonally uneven, he lands the intended comedy with skill that goes a long way toward salvaging them. Later in the play when he plays both a character whom Smallwood mistakes for his former lover as well as the lover himself, Chamberlain also shows his range. Through no fault of her own, Rifai does not have much to work with; despite the fact that Smallwood's character's fear of revealing his illness to his sister is theoretically the play's inciting incident, the scene in which this happens is arguably the weakest because the sister character is not well fleshed out. Rifai's capabilities are clear when she plays both "Teacher Taylor" and Smallwood's co-worker, but these characters, too, are not as well rendered as others in the play. The conceit of the narration from offstage is an interesting one, and it pays off in the penultimate scene as Arredondo and Smallwood have the opportunity to connect on stage. The work they do is impressive enough to lead one to wonder if reallocation of time and attention from some of the more purely absurd scenes to this relationship would have added a layer of depth to the play overall. You Will Get Sick has been extended through July 20, 2025, at Steppenwolf Theatre Company, Downstairs Theater, 1650 N. Halsted St., Chicago IL. For tickets and information, please visit steppenwolf.org or call 312-335-1650. |