
Evan Fulks
But when this director and his actors haven't finished constructing characters who fully and believably embody this many contradictions, or pose enough of a credible threat to one another, that suspense is really compromised. I hate to report that under Benjamin's direction, Karen's shrill collection of tics, interpersonal tripwires and ADD symptoms in Sunday night's performance didn't ever fully coalesce into a coherent, organic whole. Yes, she clearly isn't the easiest character to figure out, and the director and actor both required courage to take her on. But considerable work remained for the performance I saw.
Wilbur's own enigmas seemed similarly underdeveloped as well, and in need of further analysis and exploration. Additionally, the production's too-brisk pacing shortchanged moments of suspense and realization for both actors throughout the evening.
As their aliases are slowly—or abruptly—stripped away, we gradually realize just how bad an idea it was for these two damaged people to wind up together. Then we brace for the further damage each is capable of doing to themselves and one another.
But for that to truly happen, we have to believe we're in the presence of two complete characters. We have to believe that Karen and Wilbur are both by now congenital liars, sometimes to each other, sometimes to themselves, because their truths have nearly killed them—and may have actually already killed the ones they've loved. Before their twisted tale can possibly make sense to us, it must make deep sense—indeed, the only possible sense—to them.
Unfortunately, that part of this theatrical house still looked to be under construction on Sunday night. Our advice to all concerned? Decent start. Now keep building.