Review - Dead Man's Cell Phone: The Time Of Your Life

I don't know about you, but when I first heard the title of Sarah Ruhl's comic fantasy, Dead Man's Cell Phone, it immediately brought to mind the title of Sister Helen Prejean's book, Dead Man Walking. The sister's title refers to those who are still living but imprisoned on death row, but Ruhl's variation brings to mind the way technology has allowed the dead to figuratively walk among the living. Personal web sites, blogs and cell phone voice mails assuring us that the person we're trying to reach will reply if we leave a message serve as our evergreen footprints, widely giving the impression of continuing life far more effectively than dusty old diaries or the fading memories of loved ones.

That appears to be a major concern in Ruhl's play. I say "appears" because as funny and charming as it certainly is the deeper points the author seems to be trying to make never emerge with any clarity, leaving an evening that's perfectly enjoyable but not as memorable as you'd think it could have been.

The premise is a gem. While quietly sitting in a café, the unobtrusive Jean (Mary-Louise Parker) asks the nearby stranger, Gordon (T. Ryder Smith), to answer the cell phone that continually rings at his table while he just sits there motionlessly. Since it wouldn't be much of a play if she just moved out of earshot, Jean answers the phone, offering to take a message for the caller before realizing that Gordon is in no condition to ever receive it. After fielding another call (and, of course, dialing 911) Jean connects with Gordon's mother (Kathleen Chalfant), which leads her to encounters with his widow (Kelly Maurer) and his Other Woman (Carla Harting) and her own quickly blossoming love affair with his brother (David AaRon Baker). Though it turns out Gordon was apparently not an especially nice person and dealt in a morally questionable business, Jean sees fit to make up stories of his undying love and affection to comfort those he left behind.

If it all sounds a bit absurd, Mary-Louise Parker's sweet commitment to the premise, as well as her child-like nasal tones and affectedly nerdish manner, makes it all somewhat plausible in director Anne Bogart's ethereally whimsical production. Chalfant, as the uppity mom, supplies the evening's more earthbound crudeness, including a very funny scene where she's continually interrupted by cell phone rings while trying to eulogize her son at his funeral. ("You'll never walk alone. That's right. Because you'll always have a machine in your pants that might ring.")

It's during that scene that sound designer Darron L. West does a remarkable job of making it seem like different cell phones are ringing in very specific spots in the audience. Weeks from now I may not remember much about Dead Man's Cell Phone, but I will remember the uneasy feeling when, even though common sense told me it must have been part of the show, another part of me believed that someone among us may have actually forgotten to silence their ringer.

Well, at least nobody was unwrapping candy.