Someone Else’s Life

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

I love shows that make me think such as CSI: Miami. My problem, however, is the dialog. Too often the characters appear to be talking with each other when in fact what they are doing is providing information to the audience. There is no way real CSI people would talk to each other about what they are doing and why they are doing it. They would just do it. However, if they just did it, conversation would be relegated to greetings, orders and relationship mumblings.

From Left to Right: Jono Waldman, Susan Scott, Jake Mechling, Susan D’Autremont, and John Samson in Someone Else’s Life.

Dialog can be tricky: to write so that it actually can be translated by an actor to sound normal and natural without any special effects.

The dialog is what makes Scott Gibson’s new play Someone Else’s Life a brilliant piece. Now playing at the Buntport Theatre, Someone Else’s Life doesn’t particularly go anywhere or do anything, but the characters are so real, so honest the play could be called “This Is The Way We Are” or “Welcome To The Human Race.”

Under Jim Hunt’s expert direction, and a gangbusters cast that falls headfirst into their characters it is one of the most enchanting new plays to come along in quite some time.

On a realistic gorgeous set designed by Biz Schaugaard fitting snugly into the Buntport space, more than one person commented they had been there. Motel cabins in a mountain resort town called Audra could be placed in any number of mountain areas. Details are paid attention to. Doors into the cabin just don’t disappear into empty space. One can actually see it is a motel room. Expanded to three dimensions with the illusion of cabins extending beyond the main three provides a complete look to this most inviting set.

Married for 33 years, Rose (Susan D’Autremont) and Alan (John Samson) have been coming here for many years. They snipe back and forth at each other. She likes to sit on the patio and sketch. He rattles on about what a poor artist she is. She changes plans on him “because it is a woman’s prerogative.” She tries to get him involved in several activities while she busies herself with sketching and exercising her busy body muscles. Filled with playful life, Alan quips to Rose, “You really should wear your glasses when you’re pretending to write.” Words between them are cutting, but nothing ever said in meanness, 33 years of boredom maybe, but never meanness. Some emotional reactions come bottled with the biting of the tongue. Biting comments exchanged with glee. Even from the beginning D’Autremont and Samson fill the shoes of Rose and Alan with a four-dimensional quality that says there is far more to this long-time relationship than meets the eye. Both have something to learn. Both will learn. They may not show it plainly and bluntly, but they will find their way, indirectly, perhaps, but they will discover something about themselves and each other. D’Autremont and Samson provide the soul Gibson alludes to. It shows.

Two brothers as different as night and day are here for the weekend for their sister’s wedding. Matthew, the younger wants the world to see him as the Playboy of the Year, oiled with charm on a boyish grin. Played by Jono Waldman, Matthew knows precisely how to get his way with older brother Daniel who grumbles in the midst of his pouting, always giving in to the sly flirtatious Matthew. Jake Mechling grabs Daniel by the throat playing second fiddle resenting every moment. Returning late after a rehearsal dinner party, Daniel finds Matthew occupying the cabin with a girl. His bent out of “shapeness” flirts between anger and depression, while Matthew just flirts. A verbal scuffle follows. Matthew turns up his cozy charm to a high frequently while Daniel implodes into himself. There is a “something” Waldman and Mechling give to their characters going way beyond stance, lines and demeanor. Learning comes hard, but learning comes even between rival siblings.

In a bridesmaid dress and heels, Susan Scott limps into Amy’s cabin with no luggage. Fearful of identifying herself, with good reason from her point of view, she hesitates to impose herself onto anyone. Giving her name could uncover her secret, and her secret she must keep. Scott gives Amy flesh and blood branded with a tarnished soul. Secrets have a way of doing that. Daniel too involved in his ingrown feelings doesn’t notice, doesn’t care. Matthew dogs her to distraction representing a conquest that got away. Alan’s appetite for life and zest for fun discovers her secret, but the gentleness he seems incapable of showing to Rose flows diligently to Amy. With an impish elfin magic flair, Alan hides keen observations behind fun and games.

Their lives become entangled. With the cabins so close together all sharing the same patio, busybody curiosity keeps them interacting even when they don’t want to. For Rose, 33 years of marriage doesn’t tickle her imagination with Alan. What is there to learn? What is there to say? Ah, but with strangers, her curiosity bubbles overtime.

In two acts and six scenes, Gibson’s writing moves the interaction with genuine realism and all too believable scenarios, ending each scene with abrupt intervention of sliced jolting. He has a knack for having a point, getting to the point, bringing it to an unexpected halt for honest frankness. Gibson’s structure pays homage to his characters with a punch and lights out.

The surrounding beauty of the mountains reflects through Rose’s eyes if not her sketches. The lighting designed by Nicholas Kargel imitates what Rose sees as well as what she doesn’t.

Sound designer Gov Landrum adds to the picturesque scenery. The babbling creek, however, was my only disappointment when its song was shut off. Creeks just don’t stop babbling, Perhaps the sound could be turned way down low, letting the creek roll throughout all the verbal punches, mischievous interactions, soulful downbeats, and nosey curiosities. It’s there. It wants to be heard.

All the way through there is the wonderment of what it would be like to live in someone else shoes. Jealousies tampered with envy, the what-would-it-be-like-to be-someone-else? The have-I-wasted-my-life syndrome floats smoothly throughout the characters in an honest appraisal of human nature. They may harber resentments, hurt feelings, and idle confusion, but no contrived meanness, no ugliness, just human beings trapped and released all in one weekend. Humor flows along with the clutching moments. When the houselights come up, one thought captures a line Gibson could have written, but didn’t. He didn’t need to: “There we are in all our glory, dotted with challenges begging to be worked through with the support we give each other, which is, after all, what we do best.”

Having tied for first prize at the 2005 Rocky Mountain Theatre Association Playwriting Competition, Someone Else’s Life is a play that wants to be produced again and again. Hopefully, it will always have a Hunt directional quality to it, and a cast as brilliantly sensitive as this one is.

Call now for reservations. Someone Else’s Life compels attention with humor, compassion glued by recognition of human nature in its fullness. Not to be missed.