A Collapse

"The worst part of this job," a helpless and hapless soldier says early on in Vincent Marano's play A Collapse, "is the irony." And, likewise, the most frustrating part of A Collapse, is the very irony in which it revels. A story of disaster and redemption, of hope and despair, the play ranges from an uplifting morality fable to a harsh condemnation of bureaucracy, but never quite achieves the emotional heights the subject matter demands.

In the play, based on the 1976 Tangshan earthquake that claimed between 250,000 and 500,000 lives, a city suffers some kind of catastrophe that topples many buildings. In one pile of rubble, a girl is trapped half-in and half-out of the remnants of a wall, with no clear way of escape. As other citizens begin to rebuild their lives, they look to the suffering yet saintly teenager as inspiration, although no one seems able– or willing– to actually help get her free. Soldiers are dispatched to offer aid, but cannot risk lawsuits if rescue missions go wrong. Politicians promise that government relief is on the way– once the roads are cleaned up and the most dire patients are tended to first, of course. And news channels fight to get the best pictures of the tragedy, seemingly unaware of the real people who are suffering all around them.

It's ironic, dark and bitterly caustic. And rightfully so: after watching the after-effects of tsunamis and earthquakes and terrorist attacks from the safety of our living rooms, we have all become familiar with the bureaucratic hoops and loopholes that make helping the neediest an exercise in futility. Frustration becomes rage, and rage, channeled properly, can make for wonderfully moving theatre.

And while Marano's frustration and rage are palpable in both his script and direction, the play's awkwardness overwhelms the very pure emotion that should guide it. While the stack of ironies on top of ironies is not necessarily unrealistic, it feels so dramatically. (Reality, alas, often does not make for the most believable drama.) And the final plot twist, while interesting and timely, is just one irony too many, and makes the entire play seem like a joke instead of the angry cry it could be. His intentions, in other words, are noble and clear, but the execution is flawed. Were he to focus on fewer ironies and develop his characters more, the tragedy would resound that much more powerfully.

If his script is somewhat awkward , Mr. Marano's direction compensates nicely with plenty of grace and true emotion throughout. Kathleen O'Neill, playing the mother forced to watch her child die slowly, is heartbreaking in her quiet grief, expertly capturing layers of pain. Laura Williams, as her aptly named daughter Mari, is given little to do beyond play a clichéd martyr, looking at the world with a Pollyanna outlook. David Roman's set is excellent, simply and effectively representing devastation and destruction.

Mr. Marano's anger is not unjustified, and with some revisions and more focus, A Collapse could easily become the indignant cry of anger it is meant to be.