A REVIEW OF "ASSISTED LIVING" AT ACT- A CONTEMPORARY THEATRE—CHOOSE TO DIE LAUGHING

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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Like Coal Dust and Pigment, "The Pitmen Painters" Leaves Its Mark -- A Review

Until last week, if you asked me to describe a scene from October 29, 1934, it would not be what I envision now. Until last week, I would have first imagined the music of America's great Jazz Age, or classic cars, or women's fashions, or an entry in my mother's diary. (She was a teenager, hoping her parents would let her have a Halloween party.) But last week I sat in the audience at A.C.T.— A Contemporary Theatre, in Seattle, and watched a play called The Pitmen Painters. I will never imagine 1934 in the same way again.

Original artwork by the pitmen painters known as The Ashington Group.
Photo: Woodhorn Museum                   

On the 29th of October in that year, a group of coal miners waited in a YMCA hall in Ashington, Northumberland, in northeastern England, dressed in their best clothes. They had gathered for a class in art appreciation. It had been arranged through the Workers' Education Association—the WEA—an organization created by their labor union in 1903. The teacher, Robert Lyon, was late. But his arrival would change the lives of these men forever, and maybe society as well, at least to some degree.

Thus began a true story, Lee Hall's stage adaptation of a non-fiction book by William Feaver entitled "Pitmen Painters: The Ashington Group 1934-1984." It is being staged in the Allen Theatre at A.C.T. April 20—May 20. This is theatre-in-the-round, and my seat, like all the seats, allowed a clear view of the platform below that served as a stage. Two different elevated screens on opposite sides of the room showed black and white images of Ashington, the center of coal mining in England in the 1930s while music from that era created the ambiance.

Art Class
Photo: Chris Bennion                   

Lyon (Frank Lawler) begins his lesson with a slide presentation of the classic, religious-themed works of master painters, but the men cannot relate. They had come there to learn how to appreciate art, but as intelligent, observant, working-class realists, these paintings hold no relevance to their own lives. So they challenged Lyon.

The program quotes the real Lyon as having said, "It was perfectly clear that these men had decided views on what they did not want to the class to be. They did not want to be told what was the correct thing to look for in a work of Art but to see for themselves why this should be correct; in other words, they wanted a way, if possible, of seeing it for themselves."

Frank Lawler and Jason Marr in The Pitmen Painters.
Photo: Chris Bennion                   

Lawler portrays Lyon with warmth, compassion, and a finely tuned balance, showing him to be a man from a privileged background, but one who cares about others without condescension. Lyon does not set himself above these working-class men. He sees them as worthy individuals with valid opinions and views, as deserving of respect as anyone in higher society. He decides that the best way was for the men to learn about art is to create their own, to paint their own interpretations of their world and their experiences. So they do exactly that. Without any formal training, they produce vivid, honest, organic works of art, images not usually seen in galleries: the cramped and miserable conditions in the coal mines, the muscled men working in the dark and heat, street scenes, home scenes, their dogs, their gatherings.

Jason Marr in the foreground. Charles Leggett, R. Hamilton Wright, and Frank Lawler in the background.
Photo: Chris Bennion                   

These paintings begin to attract the attention of critics, including a wealthy patron of the arts named Helen Sutherland (beautifully and sensitively played by Morgan Rowe) who takes a particular interest in Oliver Kilbourn (Jason Marr) Her offer to support his artistic endeavors—thereby providing an escape from poverty and the drudgery of the mines—provides the main point of conflict in the play and makes interesting observations about society in general and the class system that still existed in England at the time.

Playing the role of Oliver is Marr's debut at A.C.T. and will no doubt be looked back upon as a milestone in his already notable career. So perfectly cast (as were all the actors) he has the face and aura of a romantic, no matter how humble his circumstances in the role. His characterization of Oliver makes us love and care about the kind, loyal, hardworking and responsible young man who went to work in the mines as a young boy and has finally had the chance to express what lies in the depths of his beautiful soul.  

Extraordinarily talented Joseph P. McCarthy plays the role of Jimmy Floyd, another miner-turned-artist, whose childhood ended at age 10 when he took his first terrifying ride down into the mines. I cannot forget the haunting way he describes this experience during the play. The audience barely breathed. Yet the character of Floyd brings plenty of humor to the play as well, adding a welcome lightness.

Charles Leggett, as George Brown, does a fine job of showing how his character changes once he begins to paint. He was the bossy (but often funny) member of the group, a staunch union man who follows rules to the letter and tolerates no nonsense. But we see him soften, thanks to the quality of Leggett's acting.

R. Hamilton Wright Photo: Chris Bennion

R. Hamilton Wright
Photo: Chris Bennion

The only non-miner among the artists was Harry Wilson, a military veteran who took up dentistry and holds strong Marxist views, played by R. Hamilton Wright, with finesse. The role carries undercurrents of personality, politics, and even perhaps some guilt over not being down in the mines. As Wilson explores art, he also explores his relationships with the other men and his relationship to society. Wright expertly negotiated these subtleties.


Daniel Brockley excelled in the role of Young Lad/Ben Nicholson, an unemployed and restless fellow who begs to sit in on the class, even though he isn't entirely qualified in Brown's critical opinion, at least not at first. But the WEA's policy was that "An enquiring mind is sufficient qualification." Nicholson becomes a tragic figure in the end, but on the way, adds depth and a different perspective to the story.   


Fresh as a breeze and surprisingly modern, the character of Susan Parks—a liberated young woman who works as an artists' model—comes to life through the talents of Christine Marie Brown. She cannot understand why the miner artists should be taken aback by the idea of using a nude model (although the comical Floyd thinks it's a great idea), and she does drop her drapery a little for a brief flash of partial nudity before the scene ends and the lights go out, to the disappointment of many, I'm sure.

"The Deluge" Artwork by Oliver Kilbourn of the Ashington Group
Photo: Oliver Kilbourn

The stage for The Pitmen Painters is simple. A few wooden chairs and a table, that keep being rearranged, make up the set, which seems to represent the plain and drab environment of life in this coal mining town. Even the authentic costumes had little color. But in such a setting, the replicas of actual paintings done by members of The Ashington Group glow ever more vividly when shown on the stage and projected on the two screens above, just as the discovery of art added color to the lives of these men.

Ponder the questions of what art means in society and what access to art means in the lives of individuals—by seeing The Pitmen Painters at A.C.T. soon. Under the fine direction of the theater's Artistic Director Kurt Beattie, it will transport you to a view of the 1930s quite different from your American perspective. My only recommendation is that you READ YOUR PROGRAM before the action begins. Beattie's letter and some accompanying articles will greatly enhance your appreciation of the story by giving you the needed historical background. This is one area in which I felt the stage adaptation fell short. It could have been confusing and vague to those who didn't see it in the context of world affairs. And the Second World War, a profound event in these people's lives, did not receive the attention I felt it warranted. Other than that, I found it gratifying and rich. Don't miss it. Here's a link to the box office.

As I read on in my mother's diary from 1934, I see that she was allowed to have her Halloween party. And as she did so, Hitler's power reached new heights. And according to Beattie's letter in the program, in that same year 834 English miners died in mining accidents and 30,000 more suffered injuries. In the midst of it all, far from my mother's childhood home on Vashon Island in Puget Sound, the men who called themselves "The Ashington Group" were on their way to becoming world renowned artists. Go discover the reason why.

Original artwork by the pitmen painters known as The Ashington Group.
Photo: Woodhorn Museum