Expect mercurial changes in reacting to this dark, funny, unhappy and uplifting play about disabilities and how radically we are opposed on how to handle them. The ideas, background, and utterly committed work of a number of immensely talented theater artists for this offbeat, intriguing, world-premiere play certainly bring it a richness of ideas and significance beyond its dramatic effect. The Thrillis everything from painful, hilarious, heart-wrenching, and rewarding to downright amazing in its picture of severely crippled physical beings and their many responses to their conditions.
The Thrill is based on a written account of an actual public debate between 1) Harriet McBryde Johnson, a famed, wheelchair-bound lawyer, writer and activist who fought for the right of the disabled to be aided in their lives and work and 2) Peter Singer, a Princeton professor of Bioethics whose “utilitarian” belief was opposed to expenditures for handicapped people “who will not contribute to the greater good.” An irony that playwright Thompson discovered is that Professor Singer spent a lot of money on keeping his very ill mother alive and living comfortably.
So here we have Elora, an activist lawyer in a powered wheelchair that she whizzes about in as the most active and dashing person onstage, the wonder of her acquaintances in Charleston, South Carolina. Julian is a popular Canadian philosopher touring to promote his book, “Wheelbarrow”; and Elora challenges him to debate his idea that babies afflicted with fatal degenerative diseases should be euthanized vs. her belief that “mercy-killing” is murder, and severely handicapped people have lives to assist and encourage. The twist is that quickly they develop a love affair that concludes Act I with a sexual union.
Julian’s mother has come from England and settled in Charleston, so we can have contrasting scenes of his caring for her as she moves toward death. And Elora has a homosexual caregiver, Francis, who is touchingly devoted to her. As Elora begins to physically deteriorate rapidly, she and her loving Julian start to reverse beliefs, as he can no more easily face her loss than that of his mother, nor bring himself, at first, to consider a “mercy-killing” for either.
The playwright’s bias against euthanasia is obvious; the story and its unexpected comedy develop believably; but neither Thompson’s dramatic progression nor director Gabourie’s pacing progress satisfyingly. What keeps us from fidgeting in our seats is the splendid acting. Nigel Bennett is perhaps a bit restrained in his arguments and tame in his love scenes but persuasive in Julian’s anguished confusion about his beliefs and in his sexual attraction to Lucy Peacock’s dynamic and beautiful Elora. Robert Persichini’s attentive Francis is very moving in his doglike devotion to Elora.
As Francis’s very realistic mother, Hannah, Patricia Collins is quietly virtuosic in her swings between displaying dementia and difficult nagging to giver of wise motherly advice and sympathy. And Lucy Peacock’s command and vitality, even within her subtly developed physical decline and darkened outlook, make her unforgettably spirited Elora worth seeing without regard to any other element of the play.
