“Beyond Therapy” with Eclipse Theatre Company

Second in the line-up for Eclipse Theatre Company’s Season of Christopher Durang’s work is the farcical comedy Beyond Therapy. Directed by Rachel Lambert, the play is set in the early 1980s of New York City. While the accurate set design and costume design is reminiscent of that time period, don’t let that fool you into thinking that this production is outdated. Au contraire, the absurd hypocrisies and contradictions found in the comedy of this play are still prevalent; they are just found in different groups of the population. As we watch clownish characters fling prejudices at each other as metropolitan 30 and 40 somethings of the 1980s, we can laugh at them as we recognize their logical fallacies (“He’s not gay, he doesn’t lisp!”)  as those held by less politically and socially aware today. 

Lights up on two fidgety and stuttering adults in an otherwise empty restaurant. Bruce (effusively played by Nick Freed) is an emotional, bisexual man who already has a male lover whom he lives with. But, in an attempt to find more stability in his life, he has taken his psychiatrist, Charlotte’s, advice and placed a personal ad in the newspaper. His call into the void has been answered by type-A magazine writer, Prudence (maybe the symbolism of the name is a little heavy handed, but what isn’t in this show?) She walks into the restaurant with the hope of finding the perfect mate after having been seduced by her psychiatrist, Stuart, and is sorely disappointed to find yet another man who inspires the grinding of teeth and pulling of hair. If we were to put our stereotypical hats on and label these characters, we could go as far as to say that Bruce is the “manic pixie dream girl” of the play, and that Prudence is the emotionally stunted one and injected with toxic masculinity that learns how to open up and love. Freed’s Bruce takes every curveball that the universe flings at him in stride, easily breaking out into song and then turning with sensitivity to fixate on the concerns of Prudence. Freed positively shimmers on stage with equal parts of whimsy, intellect, and focus, giving grounding to a character which importantly needs to both be taken somewhat seriously (because bi-erasure is still a thing today) and given the freedom to be as goofy as humanly possible. 

Don’t let the description of Devi Reisenfeld’s Prudence as a type A person fool you into thinking she’s the straight man of the play. There are no straight men to be found! Reisenfeld attaches such practicality to Prudence’s unrealistic claims of how the world should be (men shouldn’t cry) that we guffaw at her as much as the other characters that dance around and talk to stuffed animals. By Reisenfeld expressing her character’s close minded notions, such as bisexuality not being real, as if it were common sense, we in turn laugh out our own outdated rules that we have held onto for no reason. She also has one of the hardest hurdles to jump: to perform a play in which a good portion of her character’s reactions are “What the f*ck” (excuse my French, there is no better term for it.) As Reisenfeld is tossed from one jaw-dropping scenario to another, she creatively distinguishes all of the different “what the f*ck” moments from each other, keeping the audience engaged and not boring them with the same exasperated huff and gasp. 

Joining us on this wild ride are Lynne Baker as Bruce’s therapist, Charlotte, and Joe McCauley, as Prudence’s therapist. We must use the term therapist lightly, because neither of these characters should be certified to give another person any kind of advice. Baker hits all of the right notes as the kooky Charlotte, who is a personification of the phrase “in one ear and out the other.” It’s no easy feat to portray a character whose running joke is that she can’t figure out what word she is trying to say (secretary instead of dirigible, for instance.) But with all of her might and energy, Baker bounces from couch to couch as she rattles off a list of possible words that she might be meaning to say instead. On the other hand, we have the rambunctious McCauley as Prudence’s therapist, Stuart. McCauley uses every tool in his toolbox to make the audience cringe as the lecherous, hyper-masculine man who is the embodiment of everyone’s worst tinder nightmare. From snickering out “baby” to shouting over the phone at an unseen, unlucky secretary, he dances around being actually threatening. McCauley’s humor and self-awareness keep him from being an outright predator, which would really put a damper on the entire evening. 

Rounding out the cast are Siddhartha Rajan as Bruce’s long-suffering lover, Bob, and Alex Rocha as Andrew, the waiter with issues of his own. These two bookend the spectrum of ridiculousness in this production. Rajan simpers and whimpers as the over-dramatic (and that’s saying a lot in the context of this place) pharmacist, and Rocha plays it subtle as he shrugs and pulls out a knife to pick at a fingernail. 

In an era that is easily mockable (read: big hair and shoulder pads), Zachery Wagner has shrewdly created a wardrobe for the actors that is time-period appropriate and yet doesn’t overpower the farce that is playing onstage. Instead of dressing them in bright colors, he and the set designer, Samantha Rausch, washed the stage in earth tones so that the colors wouldn’t speak louder than the actors themselves. Rausch ingeniously shifts the scenes with a painting hanging on a wall, revolving it to reveal hilarious insights into the subconscious mind of the owners of the current room. The stage is split in half, flipping back and forth between different therapy rooms and the restaurant. This choice, made by lighting designer Matt Sharp, brings us to the climactic scene when all characters are on stage, satisfactorily fully lit. 

See this show not because it is an enjoyable break from reality, but because it is an enjoyable remembrance of reality. It is the best of both worlds: a comedy that’s socially aware and a political piece that isn’t damning anyone to hell. Let’s give a round of applause to the director, Rachel Lambert, who generously turned a mirror on society in an honest but loving manner. You could call these characters and humor outdated, but people today still have these same prejudices. It’s refreshing to laugh at the hypocrisies for a change, instead of raising our pitchforks and walking the culprits to the gallows. It has been so unabashedly and astutely directed by Lambert that we all know that these characters aren’t morally right. We feel like we have permission to laugh at the horrendous things, because Lambert didn’t try to soften any blows or sugar coat any character. If we are to laugh, which we want to because our only other option is to cry, then nothing can be toned down. The director and the actors lay into every cringeworthy moment with relish, and we the audience laugh at them as we also are reminded to laugh at ourselves. 

Beyond Therapy runs from July 14th to August 18th at the Athenaeum Theater (2936 N. Southport Ave., Chicago Il) in Studio Three. Run time clocks in around 2 hours and 10 minutes, which includes a 10 minute intermission. It is rated PG-13 due to “language and absurdity.” Shows begin at 7:30 pm on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, with 2 pm matinees on Sundays. Tickets range from $25 to $35 plus a $2 fee, and can be purchased online at eclipsetheatre.com. Tickets are also available by contacting the Athenaeum box office at (773-935-6875), open from noon to curtain on Wednesday through Sunday. There is “pay and display” parking in Saint Alphonsus Catholic Church lots on Southport and on Oakdale.

For more information, visit theatreinchicago.com.

Highly Recommended 

Sophie Vitello