"afterlife: a ghost story": Good Grief

by Jack Craib, New Rep Reviewer

Even before the lights go up on New Rep’s production of Steve Yockey‘s “afterlife: a ghost story”, subtle clues begin to suggest what the author has in store. The program lists the cast in alphabetical order rather than in order of appearance, and only two have been given names. The sounds of the ocean are audible before any of the actors make their appearance, establishing the omnipresence of the sea which precedes and ultimately endures beyond them. The seemingly welcoming beach house awaits the return of its owners, but something isn’t quite as it should be, as it contains several picture frames from which photos have been removed. The audience is presented with such subliminal stimuli as though discomfort is intended, which indeed it is. The sense of impending crisis, existential dread, even inexorable doom, is palpable. Then there’s that titillating title.

Suddenly a young couple enters the house, and from their first words it becomes apparent that they’re only superficially communicating. Danielle (Marianna Bassham) is visibly distraught and distracted, while Connor (Thomas Piper) is unnaturally chipper. Something has definitely happened. Gradually, as though peeling back an onion of layers of repression, the author reveals what that something was, and the antithetical responses of each to their shared tragedy. It also becomes clear that, while each is grieving the same loss, their process of survival could not be more different. Clearer still is the undeniable reality that, as close as two people may be, each must necessarily make the voyage through the process of grieving alone. As the first act ends, it’s apparent that we still lack sufficient information to grasp what these two protagonists are feeling, but not to worry, just let it all wash over you.

If the first act evokes memories of Albee’s “A Delicate Balance”, the next act is reminiscent of the second act of Wilder’s “The Skin of Our Teeth”, as well as Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland”. As it begins, we swiftly realize that, as Dorothy said to Toto, “We’re not in Kansas anymore”. We are presented with a third protagonist, identified as Young Man (Karl Baker Olson) and a menagerie of supporting players, including the proprietress of a bizarre tea house (Adrianne Krstansky), a seamstress who would be at home in “Great Expectations” (Georgia Lyman), and a brusque postman (Dale Place, who also plays another role that is supporting in more than one sense). Each will have their individual parts to play in easing the main characters through their process of grieving.

As amazingly directed by New Rep Artistic Director Kate Warner, this cast is flawless. They are aided and abetted by the incredibly pitch perfect sound design by David Remedios which is calibrated to every nuance in Yockey’s text. Kudos are also due to the lighting design by Karen Parsons, scenic design by Cristina Todesco, costume design by Frances Nelson McSherry, and puppet design by Pandora Andrea Gastelum. (No, that’s not a typo, there is puppetry afoot as well). The most amazing accomplishment of the production is that all these technical efforts combine seamlessly to produce a theatrical environment that would convert the most devout agnostic. What results is part profound tragedy and part divine comedy. Youthful theatergoers who have not yet experienced unfathomable loss may not identify with all that transpires by play’s end.

Truth to tell, the play doesn’t really end, and that’s as it should be, one suspects, in the afterlife. There are three distinct resolutions, one for each of the protagonists. In one case, endless anticipation and false hope are given closure when the character, Young Man, is no longer able to search for written communication. In another, Connor finds he must let go of all his remaining baggage to find true relief. Lastly, Danielle must surrender to the inevitable memory loss that she has sought in order to move beyond her pain and reestablish order. In the strictest dramatic sense, there is no end to the play, but a sense of perpetual denouement.

This may well be the best production New Rep has done in recent memory, due in large part to Yockey’s brilliant poetic new play. One feels like echoing Oliver Twist: “Please, sir, may we have some…more?”