Pictured Kurt Beattie and Tim Gouran Photo: (c) LaRae Lobdell |
Laughter,
no matter how genuine, can also feel like whistling in the dark when theatrical
comedy looks too much like possible reality. I had a hunch I would enjoy the
world premiere of Katie Forgette’s play Assisted Living—a Mainstage Production in The Falls Theatre at ACT, April 19-May 12—and
oh how I did. I laughed hard and often, like everyone around me. But I think my
own laughter hid an emotion felt by many others in the audience: foreboding.
I loved this
play and I highly recommend it. I consider the writing brilliant and the acting
superb. But it didn’t take long to
understand why the theater’s press release said Assisted Living “ ... takes a darkly comical look at America’s current
health care system and where it could be headed.” The story is set in a future version of
our nation that we hope we’ll never see, after the collapse of the health care system
and the demise of Medicare. With so many baby boomers now old and ill, and
space at a premium, prisons have been emptied and their inmates sent to Pakistan,
so prison buildings can be used as elder care institutions under the Senior Provision
Act, a.k.a “SPA.”
MITZI GRABS Laura Kenny Tim Gouran Photo: Alan Alabastro |
Even if you
have a healthy appreciation for the “gallows humor” secretly shared among people
who work in law enforcement or medicine, you might not be prepared for the opening
scene. It’s nighttime in a prison-turned-assisted living facility. A young
orderly named Kevin, prone to horseplay and singing to himself, steers a loaded
gurney into a darkened lobby, pulls back a rug, lifts a hidden hatch cover, and
dumps a corpse down a chute. That is, of course, after removing the dead
woman’s bracelet. He yells to an unseen person below, “Stiff. Incoming!”
Get used to
it. In what we hope is only a side-splitting
farce, the now elderly baby boomers end up in government-run nursing homes,
with all their assets sold at government-run auctions in order to pay for every
single item needed for their government-run care, even bags for bodily fluids.
No mooching off Uncle Sam in SPA Facility No. 273! In an ultra-conservative
society, it’s downright unpatriotic to ask for any help from your fellow
citizens who pay taxes.
And those people who ever ate junk food, gained weight,
smoked, drank, or did anything else in their lives that possibly led to their chronic
health problems (or, in other words, were human) are considered immoral, unpatriotic leaches on society, and disposable,
for the good of the taxpayers. In order to save money, this place even has a
robot named “Hal” for a night nurse. We never see him, but the idea of this
inhuman machine patrolling the darkened halls felt frightening and creepy to me,
as did the ever present hypodermic needle gun, ready to over medicate anyone who did not comply.
Pictured Tim Gouran and Jeff Steitzer Photo: (c) LaRae Lobdell |
When new
resident Joe Taylor (played by ACT’s Artistic Director Kurt Beattie) moves into
No. 273, it isn’t because he had squandered his God-given former good health.
He’d been mugged, resulting in a fall that broke his hip, causing him to be hospitalized
more than once, ill with pneumonia, etc. etc. No matter. To the bitter,
unsmiling, accusatory and hysterically funny Nurse Claudia (Julie Briskman),
these inmate-residents are all the same: worthless—and unworthy of respect,
dignity, or compassion. As a member of a generation that expected entitlements,
but didn’t get, she now resents the baby boomers and her anger is palpable.
Deeply
disturbed by what he finds in his new environment, Taylor tries to lift the
spirits of his fellow residents. He had been an actor, and when he discovers
other former actors in his midst, he convinces them to read plays and give a
holiday performance for families and fellow residents. Those other actors are—Beatrice
“Judy” Hart (Marianne Owen, Beattie’s real-life wife) and Wally Carmichael
(Jeff Steitzer), the later from whom Nurse Claudia withholds hearing aid
batteries. Another member of their
troupe, a former nurse named Mitzi Kramer (Laura Kenny) copes with her circumstances
(and incontinence) by caring for others and maintaining her cheerfulness. With
some cooperation from the orderly Kevin (Tim Gouran) they secretly rehearse.
TWINKIE Julie Briskman Jeff Steitzer Photo: Alan Alabastro |
Nurse Claudia is outraged at the idea of this
uprising, which upsets her tightly ordered world. She dominates through her strict
schedule of too much quiet time and too little visiting time, and she controls
through fear, medical sedation, and the constant threat of banishment to the
first floor, from which people never return. But rest assured; good, at least temporarily, triumphs over evil, and the plot takes a
satisfying twist at the end.
All through
the drama, razor-sharp humor, combined with moments of poignancy and tenderness
kept me 100% engaged. But having already read a shocking article in the play’s
program—filled with statistics about how aging baby boomers will impact the
health care system—that projected scenario weighed on my mind even as I
laughed. And I knew too much about a real assisted living facility, where both my
father and mother-in-law once lived.
TRIUMPH Tim Gouran Jeff Steitzer Laura Kenny Marianne Owen Kurt Beattie Photo: Alan Alabastro |
Whether you
laugh your head off or feel a little shiver down your spin (or most likely
both) you will recognize three important things:
1.) ACT has done it again, giving us the
highest quality theater experience, a feast of talent.
2.) Writer Katie Forgette (whose
husband, the acclaimed actor R. Hamilton Wright, directed the play) is a
genius. I can’t wait to see what she will create next.
3.) Art matters. If anyone ever needed
an example of how art examines issues in our society and makes us think, this is it.
Don’t let
the disturbing parts keep you from enjoying the outrageous humor this play
offers. Your own mind will scare you more than anything you’ll see here. For
many of us in the audience, perhaps the creepiest thing of all is realizing the
baby boomer generation is now the oldest surviving one, in this not-too-distant
fictional future. The show opens with the Beattle’s song “Help” and closes with
Bob Dylan’s “Times They Are a Changin,” and the juxtaposition of my generation’s
music with images of the nation’s oldest citizens felt like a shock.
Go see this
play. And take an ultra-conservative politician with you. Please.
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