Review: An Emotional PROOF at Cue Zero Theatre Company

Despite being a play about math, one doesn't need to speak math to understand the words, one doesn't need to find x in order to discover the meaning behind action, nor does one need to measure the pounds per square inch to feel the emotion behind David Auburn's, Proof. In the wake of the death of a family member, a depressed Catherine finds herself questioning if she has inherited her father's brilliant mind as well as his early onset mental degradation. After housing her sister, Claire, for a few stress filled days and taking a hesitant solace in Harold Dobbs, one of her father's old grad students, she decides to reveal a secret of her own. While centered on the idea of a mathematical proof- which is, simplified, an, often long winded, series of logical arguments that support a mathematical theory- the conflict of the piece is in the human soul. The cast of Cue Zero Theatre's production, which runs for one weekend only, managed to discover, isolate, and emphasize the deeper connections being explored in Auburn's emotional work.

Taking place entirely on Catherine's back porch, the set and lights were simple and light, keeping the focus on the people; using the porch space to focus the action towards the center, but allowing characters to walk off the porch and into the yard to allow for levels. The lights, in the same vein, served their sole purposes of lighting the actors and setting the scene effectively: brighter during the day, dimmer at night, and announcing the presence of police cruisers approaching with a red and blue glow. The only aspect of technical work that didn't quite gel was the sound during a party scene. While the guests were in the house, playing music, talking, and having a good time, Catherine and Hal were having a rather personal conversation outside; a conversation that was occasionally drowned out by the speakers cleverly hidden beneath the set; especially when the actors were turned upstage. Rightfully so, however, the focus was on the characters and what they wanted, what they enjoyed, and what frustrated them; and the cast was up for the challenge.

Opening the show was a late night conversation between Catherine and her father, Robert, played by Marjorie Boyer and Matt Nichols, respectively, which gets interrupted by Hal, played by Tom Lott. Boyer's spot on depiction of depression- avoiding eye contact, talking with short sentences, paranoia, and other mannerisms- made the already awkward conversation feel even more uncomfortable. This dedication to character is palpable, and is compounded with the nerdy awkwardness of Lott's Hal to create a lovably awkward pair, throughout the show and really highlights Catherine as a complex and capable female character. While there are some moments where physical altercations between the pair could be smoothed out and a few lines that seem to get clunky, the two play off of the other smoothly and convincingly.

On the other hand, Catherine and Claire, played by Anja Parish, couldn't be any more different and it is so captivating to watch. Parish's indulgently preppy and proper, New York rising executive portrayal of Claire really emphasizes the differences between the two sisters- and the physical differences too, like Parish's short blonde hair compared to Boyer's long brown- and their arguments grow so organically that this audience member began to recall similar arguments with his own siblings. The only thing that all three of these characters had in common was that they all had issues keeping eye contact with each other which, while it makes sense for Catherine, grew slightly distracting, especially when Hal and Claire have their first argument alone together; an argument delivered and fought so cleanly and precisely by both party that you find yourself struggling to pick a side.

Rounding out this exceptional cast is Mark Nichols, who plays Robert, Catherine and Claire's father. Suffering for years from some unknown mental illness that affects his memory and processing ability, Nichols found the thin line between passionate and crazy; between genius and crazy; between sarcastic and disapproving. The subtle desperation underneath all of Robert's scenes is hard to identify and yet makes all the difference. Through the use of flashbacks, you are able to see Robert at various stages of his sickness, and Nichols makes very conscious decisions about how each stage is played out while still remaining the same personality: His passion for mathematics, his fear of losing his mind, and his desperation to hold on is both inspirational and heartbreakingly sad because you can hear the urgency in his voice throughout the show, whether he is arguing about what to have for dinner- and the eventually coming to a decision- or begging Catherine to "... Open the g*****n book and read," watching Robert's slow collapse requires a level of urgency, subtlety, and control over oneself, and Nichols delivered it flawlessly.

When looking at the core of Proof, it isn't the proof itself that creates the drama, but rather the living people around that proof. Cue Zero Theatre's emotional cast takes this thrilling play to another level, while keeping the audience invested, in love, and heartbroken in the process. You can see Cue Zero Theatre's production of Proof on May 3rd and 4th at 7:30pm, and May 5th at 2pm at the Kreiva Academy on Pine Street in Manchester, NH. Tickets are $15. You can find them on Facebook as Cue Zero Theatre Company, and at cztheatre.com.

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