Caption: Rachel Gold (Amy), Andrea de la Fuente (The Body) Credit: Photo Credit: Steve Wagner
The human body is this complex amalgamation of biological mechanisms that coexist and collaborate, all with the grand purpose of keeping us alive. It is a beautiful, wondrous feat – that is when all of the parts work as they’re designed. But when you live with a chronic illness, it feels like your body is not keeping you alive, but actively working against you. Your body becomes something that you live in and with, rather than a part of you. Oftentimes, you want to tell it to “fuck off.”

This concept is lovingly explored at Cleveland Public Theatre in “The Body Play,” a creative, devastatingly accurate show depicting what it’s like to live with chronic illness. The show is receiving its world premiere under the direction of Paige Conway, Cleveland Public Theatre’s associate producer.

The play features Amy, a modern woman who begins to experience unexplained chronic pain. We join her as she seeks answers and a diagnosis from various doctors and wellness gurus, all while trying to come to terms with the reality that she may be living in a body that is permanently ill in a society that profits off of her being unwell.

While this concept is interesting in and of itself, playwright Madison Wetzell injects “The Body Play” with a hearty dose of artistry by exploring the topic through two characters: Amy, an intelligent, witty woman; and Amy’s Body, a mute, toddler-like being. What results is an exciting and fresh exploration of the human condition.

The captivating Rachel Gold portrays Amy while an expressive Andrea de la Fuente is the Body. Gold delivers Amy’s witty dialogue with sarcasm that amuses and sincerity that lends weight to the character’s story. She makes a point to visually connect with audience members, creating an intimacy and gravitas that is as engaging as it is effective. While de la Fuente has very little dialogue to play around with, she makes up for it with expressive mannerisms and physicality. Amy’s Body behaves much like a toddler. It is often needy, intrusive, distracting and whiny. This is well-portrayed by de la Fuente, whose sweet naivete evokes sympathy and humor, allowing you to recognize the Body as not a malicious being trying to sabotage Amy, but as a character that simply wants its needs met.

Actors Kelly Dunn, Day Ash and Erin Moran, a talented trio of ensemble members, help tell Amy’s story. The ensemble portrays various figures in Amy’s health journey, including doctors who dismiss her, a yogi who encourages her to connect with the trauma stored in her hips, an acupuncturist who tries to sell her an expensive rage stone and a wellness guru who advises her to just “feel her pain.”

The ensemble deftly switches between characters, employing various accents and props to convey a helpful girlfriend, an unsympathetic boss, and even a robotic, utterly unhelpful insurance agent. While they are undeniably enjoyable in their supporting roles, the ensemble members are relied on too heavily as literal physical supports during monologues throughout the show. While Amy is perched atop a gurney or chair or rope ladder and waxing poetically about the injustices of chronic pain, you will sometimes find your attention drifting to the ensemble members who have to hold that gurney or chair or rope ladder steady.

The action is staged in an alley formation with seating on either side and takes place on Ezra August Bender’s set design. Red ropes, yarn and fabric hang from above the players, twisting and entangling with one another in an interesting, organic fashion. Bookending the stage is a dangling egg chair and a platform with a few boxes featuring red-roped innards, leaving plenty of negative space in the center of the stage for the cast to utilize. The set is dramatically lit by Sierra Smith, who often uses combinations of blue and red washes. Angie Hayes’ sound design is a brilliant, ethereal mix of heartbeats and heart rate monitors. When placed together, it is easy to spot the common vein (quite literally) that runs through the production design.

The characters are dressed in simple, movement-friendly costumes designed by Amanda Rowe-Van Allen. Although the patchwork on Amy and Amy’s Body is an interesting addition to their clothing, the random stitches that dot every other piece of the ensemble’s costuming lack purpose.

Throughout the 90-minute play, the production employs plenty of fascinating movement work, and we surely have director Conway’s extensive background in physical theater to thank. Moments choreographed between Amy and her Body are especially intense and powerful, especially at the opening of the show. One of these choreographed moments would have been a welcome addition to the end of the show, which ends somewhat abruptly.

Regardless, “The Body Play” accurately portrays the exhaustion, frustration, angst, guilt and moments of hope that those of us with chronic, invisible illnesses experience on a daily basis. Cleveland Public Theatre’s world premiere production is a fine example of how theater can act as an emotional and intimate vehicle in which we can explore unique versions of the human experience.

“The Body Play” runs through April 13 at Cleveland Public Theatre, 6415 Detroit Avenue, Cleveland. Visit cptonline.org or call 216.631.2727 ext. 501 for tickets, “Choose What You Pay” pricing

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