Rod Rich
Morrisa Nagel and Stanley Amditis star in "Dead Man's Cell Phone."
The ways digital electronics have changed our lives is the central premise in Sarah Ruhl's quirky, thought-provoking comedy, "Dead Man's Cell Phone."
But Ruhl's grander purpose peppers the play with philosophical observations on love and relationships, good and evil, and the afterlife. Actors Comedy Lab and Raleigh Little Theatre's co-production perceptively unifies all these elements into a winning whole, masking the playwright's sometimes overly ambitious ideas.
Sitting in a quiet café, self-effacing Jean confronts a man nearby who isn't answering his constantly ringing cell phone, only to find that he's dead. After calling 911, she starts answering his calls, learns his name is Gordon, and decides to pretend she's a friend and co-worker.
Jean's rather empty life is suddenly given purpose as she involves herself with Gordon's mother, wife, brother and mistress, making up what each wants to hear about Gordon's last words concerning them. But Jean's naïve subterfuge quickly spins out of control as she becomes enmeshed in Gordon's murky past and in a budding romance with his brother Dwight. The play takes off into various flights of fancy, including criminal intrigue at an airport and life in modern purgatory.
The piece is not linear or realistic, requiring a tone that is both winking and serious. Director Rod Rich understands this, expertly balancing hilarious absurdity with affecting emotion. He's added his own satisfying structural device, a four-actor ensemble that effects clever transitions between scenes as cell-phone wielding crowds, bar patrons and airline passengers. He's also responsible for witty video projections (along with John Maruca) and mood-enhancing sound effects (aided by Todd Houseknecht), which play out against Thomas Mauney's pleasingly monochromatic sets.
Morrisa Nagel gives Jean the right balance of cluelessness and heart. Her scenes with Stanley Amditis as sweet-natured Dwight are endearing, Amditis shows impressive range by also playing hard-edged Gordon in several afterlife sequences. Tracey Phillips makes Gordon's wife Hermia sympathetic, despite her drunken bitterness. Amy Bossi-Nasiatka has fun with two rather caricatured women in Gordon's life, and Kate Tonner's larger-than-life portrayal of Gordon's mother's adds raucous humor.
The play's adult language and dizzying layers of themes may put off some audiences. Yet Ruhl's scattershot observations often hit their marks, especially in this fine staging that should prove rewarding for the theatrically open-minded.
