'Dead Man's Cell Phone' from Actors' Bridge

To suggest that playwright Sarah Ruhl is obsessed with death and dying might be too much of a stretch, but it's clear that she has a rather unique view of the subject. Her earlier works, The Clean House, Eurydice and Passion Play, a Cycle, all focus on death and dying and the accompanying rituals, and in Dead Man's Cell Phone, she returns to that fertile ground once again--with satisfying results.

Now onstage at Belmont University's Black Box Theatre, in a superbly acted and directed production from Actors' Bridge Ensemble, Dead Man's Cell Phone asks the question: What happens when someone drops dead and leaves behind not just their families and friends, but their cell phone.

Think about it for a minute: You're sitting in a cafe, slowly sipping your soup on an overcast day, minding your own business when you hear a cell phone ringing and the owner simply sits there, refusing to answer it. What would you do? If you're Jean, the play's non-descript, sort of pale, protagonist, you eventually answer it yourself. And it is that dead man's cell phone that unleashes a Pandora's box of new experiences and challenges for the quietly disengaged Jean, almost irrevocably changing her life.

Ruhl's play focuses on the impact of one's death on the survivors (regardless of their level of intimacy with or connection to the deceased), but more importantly it takes a clear-eyed look at the impact of our society's preoccupation with the unbridled 24/7 cycle of contact and communication that having "a machine in your pocket" really means. Certainly, it delivers much food for thought, and Ruhl's somewhat poetic view of life remains hopeful and buoyant despite the subject's heavyweight connotations.

From that initial moment of contact that Jean has with Gordon (the dead man of the title), her life is altered. Initially withdrawn, she finds herself lured into Gordon's life, unraveling mysteries as she answers calls from his mother, his wife, his mistress and his nefarious business associates. She finds herself creating a whole new shared dialogue with Gordon, telling his callers fantastical tales of his final moments and his devotion to them all. (Hell, when I die, I hope Jean's around to fashion comforting tales for my survivors.)

In veteran director Bill Feehely's production, Ruhl's comedy is both gentle and provocative, unyielding in its indictment of our society's dependence on cell phones and the accompanying loss of personal interaction. Feehely guides his actors, all of whom are uniformly well-cast, with care, remaining faithful to the playwright while giving The Players an opportunity to excel at their jobs. The play's action moves smoothly along, save for some rather clumsily realized scene changes.

Ruhl's script is thoughtful and very funny, but the end of the play seems somehow incongruous given the circuitous route taken to that point. Although a bit off-kilter, as is the whole premise, the ending seems far too conventional than what I expected-or really wanted, for that matter. Still, it proves why the Pultizer Prize-nominated Ruhl is considered one of the leading playwrights now working in the theatre.

Brooke Bryant confidently plays Jean with a blend of naivete and worldliness (as the plot thickens, as it were) and exudes a warmth and compassion that is well-balanced by her comic timing and assured delivery. Thanks to an otherworldly visit from Gordon--Paul Gatrell, in a deft performance that blends snarkiness and charm to great advantage-we learn the truth about his life and his somewhat lurid shortcomings. Gatrell and Bryant play well off each other, displaying the essential chemistry which make their relationship, despite the lack of one, seem real despite its surreal trappings.

Judy Jackson is funny as Mrs. Gottlieb, Gordon's haughty and salty-tongued mother, delivering some of the script's best lines. Kurt Schlachter is fine as Gordon's nebbishy younger brother Dwight (so named because his mother felt the name "Dwight" was getting short shrift), and his budding romance with Jean is sweetly conveyed. Cynthia Tucker, as Gordon's vampishly blond mistress, is delightfully entertaining with her cartoonish Boris-and-Natasha accent and her character's musings on what makes a woman a woman.

And, finally, Alice Raver is a delicious revelation as Gordon's shrewish wife, Hermia. Raver displays a gifted hand at comedy, her jarringly hard-edged accent very consistent, and her command of the role impressive.

Technically, Dead Man's Cell Phone is excellent: lighting design by Mitch Massaro, set design by Don Griffths, sound design by Jim Raver and costume design by Brittany McManus are all to be commended, making good use of the theatre's attributes.

--Dead Man's Cell Phone. By Sarah Ruhl. Presented by Actors' Bridge Ensemble. Produced by Jessika Malone and Vali Forrester. Directed by Bill Feehely. Continues through August 2 at Belmont University's Black Box Theatre, Nashville. For details, go to www.actorsbridge.org

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