BWW Reviews: SCR Stages Emotionally-Gripping Play THE WHALE

Like most things in life, we judge things quite often---at least initially---by its surface, outward appearance. Judging a "book by its cover" is, of course, not a startling new concept, but something all humans have done since the beginning of time, whether they want to or not. It's not like we can help it outright: most of the time, someone's outer shell is the first thing one encounters and, therefore, creates a first impression of that person---be it good or bad. For some, this outer shell makes others like you instantly, even if for shallow reasons; for others, this outer shell can actually become quite a deterrent in making fulfilling connections with the people around us.

This is perhaps why there was such an audible, almost understandable gasp from the audience upon first seeing Charlie, the 600-pound man at the literal and figurative center of Samuel D. Hunter's excellent, emotionally-gripping play THE WHALE, now playing at South Coast Repertory in Costa Mesa through March 31. Beautifully acted and heartbreakingly stirring, the play continues SCR's current hot streak of incredible, diverse stage works.

At first glance, it's hard not to immediately assume that the play's title is merely a derogatory label for the massively rotund man we see embedded like a nesting bird on an aged, tattered sofa in the middle of a messy apartment. Well, perhaps, but not really. Like all human beings, there is so much more bubbling underneath the multiple layers of Charlie's expanded outer shell.

But, of course, already the (unfortunate) judgments start early: before we even get to know the real man behind this ample-bodied person, all we see is a severely obese guy, slovenly dressed in loose, food-stained sweats and easy-to-slip-on moccasins surrounded by what looks like the carelessly scattered remnants of his seemingly self-imposed unhealthy lifestyle. Such intricate visual details---from giant soda containers from various fast food outlets wedged between nooks and crannies, to the piles upons piles of garbage that perhaps aid in keeping the sofa from completely collapsing onto the well-worn carpet below---all pique the viewer's curiosity. What has happened to this man to get him to this state of being? What kind of life did he have before and why is this the way he copes with life now?

It is this slow, exquisitely-paced peeling of Charlie's layers that makes THE WHALE, hands-down, my personal favorite play of the year so far. Not only is it thought-provoking, richly-layered, and brilliantly performed, the play---directed by SCR co-founder Martin Benson---is also a smart, intelligent portrait of a character type that's rarely represented on a stage with this much consideration and empathy. Funny at times, devastating at times, and even frustrating at times, THE WHALE asks its audience to relate to and, yes, sympathize with a damaged person that, perhaps, in the past we've been reluctant to get to know beyond a friendly salutation.

I don't think it's too farfetched for me to say that almost everyone knows at least one or two people in their lives who are a bit or a lot overweight, but when was the last time you got a first-hand account of what it's like to be in that person's shoes? While everyone has a unique story to tell that may not necessarily align with Charlie's, THE WHALE feels like many people's story. To that end, Hunter's affecting, beautifully-rendered stage play is, wow, both uniquely specific and wholly universal at the same time. And, to be perfectly honest, it's been quite some time since a play like this has so deeply affected me long after leaving the theater.

From his speech into the mic, we quickly learn that Charlie is actually an online writing teacher---a seemingly tailor-made occupation for someone who doesn't have to be seen and for someone with very limited mobility (he uses a walker just to get himself up from the couch to walk to the bathroom). His dark, sad apartment is straight out of the the TV show Hoarders, but, oddly enough, there seems to be some organization to the chaos---enough to make one wonder how his life was before he became a shut-in.When we first meet Charlie---played by the superb Matthew Arkin, in a truly transformative performance that many will remember for decades to come---he is slumped alone on one side of a sagging couch speaking into a microphone connected to his laptop computer. A very big guy with obvious health problems, he wheezes quite a bit in between sentences, struggling at times to reach for a supersized plastic soda cup on a side table while taking huge gulps of air with each pause. With each slight movement comes sharp pain, as if his body is itself a trap.

Confined to his apartment---whether by choice or by circumstance is still somewhat debatable---his only actual link to the outside world is his worrisome nurse friend Liz (the riveting Blake Lindsley), who comes for visits to not only check up on his friend's rapidly declining health but to also watch hours of mindless TV shows with him on the couch. But here's something interesting about their dychotomous dynamic: Liz, a well-meaning friend and confidante, is torn between being Charlie's pro-bono health-care provider and being his supportive, loyal best friend.

While she genuinely cares for his overweight friend's well-being to the point of screaming at him about going to the hospital (his insanely high blood pressure numbers got yet another loud gasp from the audience), she also easily succumbs to being the de-facto enabler of Charlie's dangerous habits, constantly supplying him with an endless conveyor belt of giant fatty sub sandwiches, sugary grocery store donuts, massive liter bottles of soda, and deep buckets of friend chicken to feed his friend's ailing feelings. In this sense, we feel for Liz's dilemma.

Lonely and obviously depressed, Charlie longs for deep human connections, which he tries his best to manifest in his immovable desire to coax honest, visceral feelings from everyone around him, and especially from his unseen students---even if it means ditching time-tested analysis and proper sentence structure and form in their school assignments. This quest for truth is a request that he also asks of two people that suddenly enter his life: his long-estranged teenage daughter Ellie (Helen Sadler, convincingly petulant), whom Charlie bribes to spend time with by promising her the bulk of his supposed fortune once he dies; and a visiting Mormon missionary named Elder Thomas (the gifted Wyatt Fenner), whose well-timed, hilariously awkward arrival at his front door to preach his church's gospel inadvertently saves Charlie's life. Clutching his chest in severe pain, Charlie demands the startled young man not to call for an ambulance, but rather to read aloud a poorly-written, but unflinchingly honest essay about Herman Melville's novel Moby Dick---which magically eases Charlie's pain (Another infamous whale from literature, the whale that swallowed Jonah in the Old Testament, is also brought up in the play).

The latter scene is not only an early highlight of the play---played both comically and touchingly thanks to the masterful acting between Arkin and Fenner---it is also a wonderfully subtle, surprisingly matter-of-fact introduction of a character trait Charlie just happens to have: that he is also gay. As Charlie's (and, by extension, the others') protective layers get peeled away one painful revelation at a time, we get to know a man grappling with so many physical and emotional scars that his only comforting defense is to turn to food. Ironically, as we soon learn, it was the opposite behavior---self-imposed starvation---that eventually led to his former lover's death, leaving Charlie all alone in the apartment, still wondering what caused it all (Without giving too much away, the Mormon kid's sudden entrance into Charlie's life triggers a domino effect of long-awaited answers).

No pun intended, but, yes, all of these unfortunate circumstances do seem like such a heavy burden to carry, but it is still all the more astonishing that THE WHALE so winningly succeeds in getting the audience to feel genuine empathy towards a man who has chosen a path of an unhealthy lifestyle to deal with his demons. As outsiders, we could just as easily say that Charlie could have dealt with his problems in a different, less self-destructive way. But, in the here and now of the play, the purposely induced reaction towards Charlie, at least for me, is one wrapped in heartbreaking sympathy instead of a wagging finger of shoulda-woulda-coulda.

Charlie's body shape, in a way, is an armor that has built itself around his physically- and emotionally-damaged heart. With every wince-inducing sight of Charlie struggling just to get up off the couch, to seeing his remarkably hopeful attitude even after being yelled at with such horrible, voracious venom by his bratty kid (who, in the grand scheme of things, maybe does love her father), all I wanted to do was root and cry for him. And, dammit, indeed I did.

Powerful and searing, THE WHALE---which debuted off-Broadway last year at Playwrights Horizons---is just excellent all around, from its believably disheveled set by Thomas Buderwitz to the fat suit and body prosthetics worn by Arkin to transform visually into Charlie (Kevin Haney designed the prosthetics). It sounds cliché to say, but Arkin does indeed disappear into the role, providing such an intensely realistic and utterly humane portrait that really pierces your heart, making it one of the most memorable dramatic turns I've seen in years.

The rest of the cast, too, are wonderful counterparts to Arkin, including Jennifer Christopher who makes a latter half appearance as Charlie's ex-wife (and Ellie's mother) Mary. Fenner, adorkably awkward as Elder Thomas provides not only much of the play's funniest moments but also seamlessly switches gears to provide many touching moments as well (his reaction to the discovery of Charlie's homosexuality is priceless). His impressive interactions with Sadler's Ellie and Lindsley's Liz also add to the play's overall excellence. Similarly, Arkin's exchanges with both Sadler and Lindsley is just as edge-of-your-seat incredible, especially when their conversations straddle a fine line between anger and love.

In the spirit of the main character's insistence for expressed honesty, I have a confession to make. Right after seeing the matinee performance of this outstanding play's opening weekend, I actually found myself walking back to my car and sobbed a bit. Quite a lot, actually. Perhaps I was caught off guard that there was a lot about the play, particularly the plight of Charlie, that I can not only empathize with, but can actually relate to directly... at one time or another (actually, I might still have these same lingering feelings). I feel like if a play can trigger that in an overly-opinionated critic, then it's got to be one hell of an accomplishment. The bottom line? We all want to feel as if we matter, that our lives are meaningful and that we have an impact. And we do all want to be loved, appreciated and understood far beyond what our exterior forms look like. Let's hope everyone's first instinct is to react with empathy rather than shame or apathy.

Follow this reviewer on Twitter: @cre8iveMLQ

Photos by Scott Brinegar/SCR. From top: Matthew Arkin; Arkin with Blake Lindsley; Wyatt Fenner and Helen Sadler; Jennifer Christopher with Arkin.

-----

Performances of THE WHALE continue at South Coast Repertory through March 31, 2013. Tickets can be purchased online at www.scr.org, by phone at (714) 708-5555 or by visiting the box office at 655 Town Center Drive in Costa Mesa.

To post a comment, you must register and login.