BWW Reviews: Chance Theater Debuts THE BOY IN THE BATHROOM

Admit it. There are a few scenarios that spring to mind when trying to decipher what a play will be about with a title like the one bestowed upon Chance Theater's latest theatrical offering. But, surprise! It's less quirky (and surprisingly deeper) than you might assume. In the diminutive but impressive new musical THE BOY IN THE BATHROOM—now playing at the Chance Theater in Anaheim Hills through May 22—the debilitating mental struggle of a young man trapped by his own self-imposed imprisonment (both literally and figuratively) becomes the searing focus of this emotionally-thoughtful new production. This World Premiere presentation is also featured as a part of the 2011 Festival of New American Musicals.

The three-character musical play—featuring book and lyrics by Michael Lluberes and music and additional lyrics by Joe Maloney—tells the curious story of David (riveting newcomer Chris Klopatek), an awkward young man who, for more than a year, has locked himself in the bathroom of his family home in Michigan, fearful of leaving it. You see, David suffers from severe Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), a condition that has him constantly feeling as if he's never ever quite clean enough. For David, the bathroom is his only safe haven, a supposedly clean, self-contained sanctuary that he himself keeps in check. Within these walls he feels shielded from "dangerous" outside elements that he thinks are essentially the harbingers of disease and bacteria.

Locking himself in this sterile nirvana is certainly an odd living situation: He sleeps on towels in the bathtub. He uses the vanity cupboard as a writing desk. And, perhaps, most enterprising of all, David eats only meals that comprise of flat or pliable foods—foods that can be easily pounded and slipped under the few inches of space at the bottom of the bathroom door—all delivered by his doting, ultra-protective mother Pam (Marina Coffee).

It's an interesting mother-son dynamic as well... Now in his early 20's, David is wholly reliant on his aging mother for pretty much everything; while Pam, in turn as a single mother, finds comfort in seeing to the needs of his grown son, unhealthily coddling his disorder in order to ease her own fears of loneliness. Pam, clearly, displays all the classic signs of an enabler. The duality of her own damaged personality as an over-stressed single mom/caring nurturer and a selfish, cake-loving divorcee certainly interferes with David's ultimate path to recovery.

Divided only by a locked door, Pam is David's sole link to the outside world. Exhausting her days in extreme couponing, Pam constantly supplies David with books and other reading materials (natch), and, of course, a bounty of toilet paper—most of which he uses as actual paper to write his college thesis onto in long-hand. And, as expected, his very condition is the subject of this thesis.

Ordinarily, one would think, such odd behavior would alarm a mother to seek some sort of outside assistance, whether in pill form or, maybe, even a third-party intervention. But, no. Pam tells no one and deals with the situation on her own terms, hoping, perhaps, the problem gets fixed in its own due time. For now, she is clearly enjoying the time she has with her son, but at the same time, appears to be bogged down by extra stress by allowing his son's neurosis to take over both of their daily lives.

Their stress levels are raised even more when Pam suffers a broken hip after slipping on the ice—one of the hazards of Michigan winters. With household chores and food shopping still needed to be taken care of in her incapacity, she reluctantly hires help in the form of snarky neighborhood girl Julie (Liz Holt). Impatient and restless, she worms her way into the job primarily so she can gather enough funds to buy herself a car that will take her far, far away from the state she hates.

Soon, like the audience's, Julie's fascination for the self-entrapped young man grows with each exchange. Finally, David slowly lets his guard down and finds a genuine connection with someone other than his mother. Their conversations—all conducted from opposite sides of the bathroom door with nary a glance at their physical appearances—start off as mutual curiosity, then to playful banter, then, eventually, to the beginnings of a blossoming romance.

Rather than ridicule David for his—let's face it—heightened irrational fear of normal, everyday contaminants, Julie offers the kept boy a sympathetic ear, a playmate, and even an unconditional, non-judgmental friend. In a way, Julie's a therapist that sees hopeful possibilities in David's recovery, easing him slowly to the outside world with a finger touch or even, woah, a mutual through-the-door shedding of clothes that's surprisingly liberating.

It's an idealistic, fictional notion to think two people can develop such deep, resonating feelings from only these verbal interactions, but the play really sells this idea well, and the audience is totally buying it. A conundrum arises: is their romance doomed because of Julie's need to flee the confines of her surroundings, not to mention David's opposing inability to leave the bathroom?

Directed with an appropriate intimacy by Chance Theater's own artistic director Oanh Nguyen, THE BOY IN THE BATHROOM has the ingredients to become a really great small-scale modern musical, the kind of emotionally-powerful musical production that intimate, black box theaters can winningly stage for years to come.

Originally developed at the annual New York Musical Theatre Festival, it's certainly a darling little show that provides us with a really sympathetic, likable central character that you really just want to rush up to and give a comforting hug (while wearing a hazmat suit, of course). Additionally, it's that very intimacy in size that helps audiences better connect and empathize with a character so attached to a small (albeit nicely-designed) footprint of space. With every nervous shake, with every slight subtle look, or with every minute movement of hesitation, David's aching pathos vibrates with an amplified intensity within the claustrophobic walls of that disinfected room.

As David, Klopatek truly is remarkable, making his portrait of this young man believably and achingly real. He also punctuates it with a really nice, pleasant singing voice as well. Coffee's speak-singing style seems off-putting at first, but grows on you as the play continues to highlight the character's iffy, surprisingly bitter machinations—with heavy songs that reveal a mother that has her own issues too. It's an interesting and ultimately adequate mouthpiece for exposition, but, still, I did find it a bit curious that a huge bulk of the "showier" songs were placed on the shoulders of the mother, a role which seems to require, at its very core, a stronger vocalist. And, finally, as the sole figure of semi-normalcy, Holt gives not only a convincingly full-bodied acting performance, but she also possesses exemplary vocal talents. The pain and even the small bits of joy that her character travels through float up with an aural beauty that's a wonderful contrast to Klopatek's quieter, thoughtful singing and the more hyper-manic delivery from Coffee.

Kudos also go out to Bradley Kaye's gorgeous bathroom set (with lighting assists from Brian S. Shevelenko) and the show's hardworking live pianist Mike Wilkins, who's also the production's musical director.

While much of the music has a clever lyric or two sprinkled throughout, overall, most of the songs aren't particularly exceptional or memorable. Fortunately, the show's strong, noteworthy book—the show's absolute best asset—gives it enough resonance to make it one of the most admirable fresh entries in Chance Theater's arsenal of brand new works. From its humble start to its courageous finish, this moving new musical—at times warmly amusing, at times deeply heartbreaking—is certainly worthy of your time. With that said, THE BOY IN BATHROOM is certainly, at best, a more-than-above-average work-in-progress that has the makings of a stirring, future cult hit.

Photos from THE BOY IN THE BATHROOM  by Doug Catiller for The Chance Theater/True Image Studio. From top to bottom: Chris Klopatek (David); Marina Coffee (Pam); Klopatek & Liz Holt (Julie); Liz Holt.

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Chance Theater's World Premiere Production of THE BOY IN THE BATHROOM continues through May 22, 2011. Shows run 8pm Thursdays and Fridays; 3pm and 8pm Saturdays; 5pm Sundays. Tickets are priced from $30 to $45 with a running time of 1 hour and 30 minutes (without an intermission). The show is presented as part of the 2011 Festival of New American Musicals.

The Chance Theater is located at 5552 E. La Palma Ave., Anaheim Hills, CA 92807.

For more information or to purchase tickets, call (714) 777-3033 or visit www.chancetheater.com.

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