At a recent Off-Broadway production, the gentleman behind me was complaining vociferously during intermission and occasionally during the show itself that he enjoyed “fun” shows like Company or Funny Girl, not the depressing dreck he was forced to sit through that particular evening. My first impulse was to turn around and tell him if he was so unhappy, he could just leave. But then I realized that plays like Corsicana can be challenging, but if one is patient and takes these plays on their own terms, their rewards are great.
Like the LCT’s current Epiphany, Corsicana eschews conventional constraints of plot to focus on character development and connections. Nothing much “happens” in each play; the insightful playwrights deal with a group of friends and/or family reaching out to establish bonds after personal tragedy and public calamity strikes. Both authors eloquently articulate the language of loneliness and the striving to cure the condition.
Corsicana concerns four damaged people in the titular tiny Texas town. As he did with the characters in his award-winning play Heroes of the Fourth Turning, author Will Arbery creates a cast of lost souls stumbling towards fulfillment. Ginny and Christopher are 30-ish half-siblings, still adjusting to adulthood, and mourning the recent death of their mother. Ginny has Downs’ Syndrome, wants to find a boyfriend and have a family. Christopher now has to take on the caregiving duties for his sister their mom had always performed. He has his own issues like overcoming the trauma of childhood abuse and realizing his dream of becoming a filmmaker rather than teaching film studies. The pair’s older friend Justice offers support and suggests Ginny collaborate on a song with Lot, a brilliant artist-musician, who is on the autism spectrum and also trying to overcome past damage. Justice is another refugee from heartache and has a crush on the reclusive Lot.
The quartet’s interactions might work better in a novel since there is little “action” and lots of long monologues recalling past events. But the structure of these speeches is so graceful, Sam Gold’s staging is so natural, and the acting is so seemingly effortless, it feels like you are sitting in on a long-delayed visit with close, caring friends.
Jamie Brewer, who has Down’s Syndrome in real life, is bubbly and touching as Ginny, capturing her desperate yearning for companionship and her own agency. Will Dagger makes Christopher a forlorn but adorable grown-up boy teetering on the edge of maturity. Deirdre O’Connell, fresh off her Tony win for Dana H., endows Justice with compassion and wisdom. Harold Surratt’s intense portrayal of Lot’s social anxiety is painfully real.
Laura Jellinek and Cate McCrea’s set resembles a huge storage space with a moving roof which stretches over the audience as the play progresses, suggesting the void within each character is trying to fill.
