Dying City - dying to leave

To my profound relief, the Lyric Stage performance of Dying City ran only 90 minutes, and without an intermission.

I say that not because of poor writing, direction or acting.

The story of twin brothers (both played by actor Chris Thorn), one a gay actor, the other a marine Lieutenant, who dies under dubious circumstance in Iraq, is set in the Manhattan apartment of the dead soldier's wife (Jennifer Blood).

The dialogue sparked, raged and sobbed with emotion as the story of their last night together unscrambled in the form of flashback action and current reality a year after his death.

Such was the concentration and pace of revelation of humiliation, abandonment and of a marriage gone sour, that at the end of the performance, I like the rest of the audience, sat in stunned silence, scarcely even breathing let alone applauding until the lights came up revealing the two actors smiling facings and bowing gestures.

Some saw the performances as histrionic or over the top. However, this is what happens – perhaps over a longer period, but it happens nonetheless.

The question is do we want to bear witness and to invade the privacy of a family with issues (even if fictional), in the name of entertainment. For those that have experienced such emotions, it is perhaps a timely reminder of past decisions. For those that have not – perhaps it may serve as a warning not to take such decisions lightly.

Not for the first time in the Lyric's cozy 'in the round' seating and intimate atmosphere did I give thanks for sitting further back than in the first three rows. Seated any closer, I would have been compelled to reach out a comforting arm and wrap it around Jennifer Blood's shoulder or to kick Chris Thorn's backside as due payment for his total lack of sensitivity.

This was theater for grown-ups. Sometimes it's better to be a kid.