Zane Williams
Caroline (Chantae Miller) and Anthony (Alistair Sewell) are working together on a school project.
Lauren Gunderson is hot right now. According to American Theatre magazine, she’s the most produced playwright in the country. Which makes me feel a little out of step because she’s not my favorite. Last year, I saw Forward Theater’s production of Silent Sky, and found much to love: It had a (literally) stellar set, a strong supporting cast, and starred a luminous Claire Haden as an underappreciated astronomer. But I found Gunderson’s script to be cliched and obvious. You could see it all coming from a mile away.
That’s definitely not the case with I and You, Forward’s latest installation in the Gunderson canon. This play has a fairly conventional set-up and a late twist that will take your breath away. For maximum enjoyment of this moving play, avoid finding out what happens before you go in. Seriously, do not google it! The theater company is even handing out buttons that read “Keep the secret between I and You.”
The play, which runs in Overture Center's Playhouse through Nov. 19, begins with an entrance by Anthony (Alistair Sewell), a charming basketball player who shows up unannounced to the stylish and roomy attic bedroom of Caroline (Chantae Miller). He has “signed up” to work with Caroline on a video presentation and poster on the use of pronouns in Walt Whitman’s epic poem Leaves of Grass. Whitman plays with pronouns in the poem, shifting them in fascinating ways. Fascinating, at least, to Anthony, whose wide-eyed passion for Whitman is significant in many ways.
Caroline is not happy about Anthony’s intrusion. She’s a loner who’s been out of school. for some time with a vaguely defined disease. She is thoroughly addicted to social media, and likes to post photos of “the small things” as part of an ongoing art project. Physically, she seems OK, at the start, but when she gets excited, she crumples onto her bed. The weight of her illness is heavy on her heart as well. She’s prickly and abrasive, “not into poetry” and not very nice to Anthony. But he worms his way into her heart, using the words of Whitman and an unnatural ability to draw her out of her protective shell. He reads Whitman’s line, “I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftop of the world,” and we understand that these two lonely people are yearning to be heard.
At the beginning of the play, Gunderson throws together as many tropes about teenagers as possible to make their voices sound authentic.They’re far too clever and erudite for their language to ring true to this teen mom’s ears. But the many boisterous young people in the audience on Nov. 2 seemed to connect with the play, so I’m not going to quibble. Another shortcoming is Joe Cerqua’s original music; it’s unlike anything today’s youth is listening to. It’s jarring to hear this music though the powerful house speakers after Caroline and Anthony are connecting over the music of John Coltrane, heard quietly out of a tiny mobile speaker on the bed.
These limitations are overwhelmed by the strong relationship that develops between Caroline and Anthony — and the marvelous performances of Sewell and Miller. The two of them are onstage the entire show, and the energy between them is palpable.They dive into the meaning of life and death. They move from bickering to opening up their souls. There’s flirtation and fear and genuine transformation. Being witness to this visceral relationship is why we go to see live theater. And why we should go to I and You.
