By Geary Danihy
“Dancing Lessons,” a play by Mark
St. Germain that recently opened at TheaterWorks, is a romantic comedy with a
message, or a message play with romance – take your pick. It has the feel of
early Neil Simon, with just a touch of a Hallmark made for TV film (the scene
flow is certainly filmic). In other words, it’s touching and at times cute,
often funny, though the running joke that autism is, by its very nature, humorous,
wears a bit thin. As directed by Julianne Boyd, “Dancing Lessons” is kind-hearted
kitsch without the bight of St. Germain’s “Becoming Dr. Ruth” and “Freud’s Last
Session,” which were also boarded by TheaterWorks.
The set-up is Hollywood
“meet cute” with a spin. Ever Montgomery (Andrew Benator) and Senga Quinn
(Paige Davis) live in the same Manhattan
apartment building. Senga (her aunt, possibly suffering from dyslexia, meant to
name her Agnes) is a dancer who may never dance again, having been struck by a
taxi, the accident making mince meat of her left knee. As the play opens she is
in her apartment, a somewhat nondescript set by Brian Prather, swilling scotch
and noshing on potato chips, brooding and feeling sorry for herself. She is
disturbed by Ever, who comes knocking with a proposition: he wants one dance
lesson and is willing to pay Broadway scale (he’s researched the exact amount a
dance captain makes in a Broadway show) for the opportunity. Senga is not
thrilled, especially since Ever seems a bit odd, the quintessential geek:
awkward, socially inept, with a penchant for saying the wrong thing at the
wrong time. Ah, but there is a reason for Ever’s gawkiness – he has Asperger’s
syndrome.
Andrew Benator
To understand Ever’s character one
need only turn to a handy definition provided by webmd: “Asperger's syndrome,
also called Asperger's disorder, is a type of pervasive developmental disorder
(PDD). PDDs are a group of conditions that involve delays in the development of
many basic skills, most notably the ability to socialize with others, to
communicate, and to use imagination.” Often associated with autism, there are
multiple variants of the disability, as Ever will lecture Senga about. In fact,
Ever is a renowned professor – he just can’t bear being touched and needs to be
warned when a joke is being told so he can give the appropriate response.
Much of the humor is derived from
Ever’s problem, especially his inept conversational skills, his awkwardness,
and inability to use his imagination – for him, what’s black is black and
what’s white is white, but Senga will introduce him to shades of gray. There
are moments in this one-act play, especially in the early going, when St.
Germain’s research about Ever’s disability takes stage center and the dialogue
has the feel of a lecture. Then there are other moments when the research is
dramatized. As mentioned, those with Asperger’s have trouble with imagination,
so there’s an entire scene devoted to Senga attempting to get Ever to imagine
running into a white elephant who wants to have a conversation. The interaction
between the two characters often seems forced, as if St. Germain was working
off a checklist: dealt with this aspect of the disability, now on to the next.
Paige Davis
The “checklist” approach to
creating scenes and writing dialogue presents some problems for the actors.
Benator is impressive as the struggling Ever, but you often get the feeling
that he realizes his character is as much a poster boy for Asperger’s as he is
a flesh-and-blood person. He’s there on stage to bring Ever Montgomery to life,
but he’s also there to deliver a message: “[L]ike everyone else, autistics are
individuals, all unique” (to quote from the program). The character and the
messenger often work against each other.
Since there are multiple messages
to be delivered (mostly by Benator), sometimes there’s a timing problem with
the dialogue. Often, Davis begins her reaction to one of Bentor’s lines before
he’s completed the delivery, while at other times there’s one beat too many
before she reacts or responds, as if wanting to make sure the audience has
gotten the message. Thus, much of their interaction seems, well, staged, and it
takes a great deal of suspension of disbelief to buy into the romance that all
too quickly blossoms between the two. She’s a hard-headed Broadway pro – is she
really going to take this man under her wing to the extent that she does?
“Dancing Lesson” is meant to be a
feel-good play, and there’s no denying that the audience feels good about
itself for learning more about people who must deal with Asperger’s -- thus,
the dance dream sequence that comes near the end of the play. It is only after
leaving the theater you might feel that you have been just a tad manipulated,
and that the message that Asperger’s can be cured through the efforts of a kind
and tender heart might be right up there with the idea that Santa Claus knows
who’s been naughty and nice. You might also become a bit disquieted once you
begin asking yourself what you were actually laughing at.
“Dancing Lessons” runs through
March 1. For tickets or more information call 860-527-7838 or go to
www.theaterworkshartford.org
It's not uncommon for people with famous Asperger's to share a deep passion for whatever they like. That’s why they are at high ranking positions, because unlike other employees, they don't spend their time socializing with others, but rather learning as much as humanly possible about their passion.
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