SALT LAKE CITY, Utah, Feb. 15, 2024 (Gephardt Daily) — I find that generally, theater elicits one of two types of reactions from me. There are plays that get their hooks into me emotionally while I am watching, eliciting immediate and sometimes intense responses.
Then the second, the category which Salt Lake Acting Company’s current show “You Will Get Sick” by Noah Diaz falls into for me, are pieces that kind of wash over me like a guided meditation on a subject or subjects and will leave me pondering for days what it all meant and what the takeaways might be.
This regional premiere, which runs at SLAC at 168 W. 500 North from Feb. 7 to March 3, had its world premiere in November 2022 Off-Broadway at the Laura Pels Theatre in the Harold and Miriam Steinberg Center for Theatre in New York after being developed and produced by the Roundabout Theatre Company.
If you’re looking for a show that’s neat and tidy and presents its themes in a clear, easily digestible way, gift wrapped with a nice bow, well, “You Will Get Sick” is not that. There’s a lot that’s intentionally vague. The characters all have numbers, though they are sometimes referred to by names also. The play is set in “the big city” in a time “before cell phones” the program says. Such is #1’s (played by Ben Young) difficulty in accepting a life-changing medical condition that, rather than turn to family, he pays a stranger, #2, (Marion Markham) to first practice on as he describes his sickness, then to tell his sister, #3 (Latoya Cameron) for him, then to take care of him. By degrees, as he pays her more, she becomes his caregiver, though she has her own dreams too; she absolutely desperate to play Dorothy in an upcoming production of “The Wizard of Oz.” What she does not realize, perhaps, is that by connecting with #1, in a way she has already embarked on a journey to find out if there really is no place like home.
The young man’s diagnosis seems to be terminal, or at least debilitating, but every audience member is likely to have a different interpretation of what his illness is. His symptoms include difficulty breathing, forgetting where he lives, his legs spontaneously giving out, and leaking hay, and at times he is confined to a wheelchair, parts of his limbs wrapped with straw. Cancer? ALS? Parkinson’s? COVID? Or I thought perhaps HIV, given the prominent sub-plot about “The Wizard of Oz” and Judy Garland. Also the older female character is named Callan; it could be just a coincidence, but Callen-Lorde Community Health Center in New York provides health care and related services targeted to the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender communities. Callen-Lorde’s grassroots heritage dates back over 50 years to the St. Mark’s Clinic and the Gay Men’s Health Project; these clinics merged in 1983 to form Community Health Project, housing the nation’s first community-based HIV clinic. Perhaps #1’s illness is whatever each individual audience member is most terrified of. But again, Diaz is not going to decide that for you, that’s all down to your own interpretation.
A new theme emerges later in the show: #1’s desire to return to his quiet, spacious hometown. Every character seems to be looking for a home of some sort; maybe somewhere they can be free of pain. And maybe the “sick” referred to in the title does not describe a physical sickness; it could be that the characters are homesick, or lovesick? And #1 does get home; does this mean he has already died?
The play mind-bendingly blends surrealism and the absurd with odd spikes of dark and cartoonish humor which make everything seem slightly zany; a waiter takes burger orders while on the verge of tears, Callan incessantly practices her rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” and birds skulk in the skies, ready to snatch up the sick (do they represent “The Wizard of Oz'” crows? Or flying monkeys? Again, who knows?) The comic elements of the play also perfectly encapsulate the oddness of navigating sickness in yourself or someone close to you; that sometimes the process will break your heart, and other times, weirdly and uncomfortably, it will make you laugh. The play is a meditation on mortality, health and ability. It’s interesting too that Diaz’ journey to get the play to the stage encountered numerous pandemic-related obstacles. The Roundabout Theatre Company first heard the script over Zoom in the spring of 2020 and it was not until two years later, at the latter end of 2022, it was first produced.
The performances, under the direction of Chris DuVal and assistant director Cassandra Stokes-Wylie, are mostly gentle, dreamlike, almost detached and at times highly stylized; #1 seems to still be processing what is happening to him, and is learning to inhabit a body that is failing him. Another character, #5 (Scotty Fletcher) narrates #1’s actions in the second person, also in an unnervingly calm, non-dramatic way. But later in the play, #5 reveals himself to be something other than what we thought, which is a clever twist. And is it coincidental that #1 and #5 look alike? (Again: I DON’T KNOW!)
The production values too match the surreal nature of the show as a whole. The set, by Dennis Hassan, creates a nebulous, supernatural space with various large black and white speckled monoliths that can be moved around by cast members. As Hassan says himself in the program: “Where at first you see things in black and white, a second glance shows all the gray that goes in between.” Then towards the end, we are shown the destination that #1 returns to, in all its colorful and serene beauty. The lighting, by Michael Horejsi, as well as incorporating broad swathes of color, includes bold hues that light up the edges of the monoliths. As Horejsi says in the program, “Ultimately, for me, the script feels full of warmth, hope and acceptance. The lighting needs to support that.” The costume design by Nancy Hills is mute and understated, which feels just right for the overall mood, and not really specific to any period. There are a few bits of more jazzy costuming, particularly for #4, (Josh Tewell) who plays various characters to great effect. And the sound design by Cynthia L. Kehr-Rees further enhances the mood; her transition music is a mix of percussive segments and instrumental pieces which could reflect hope, sadness, and peace.
“You Will Get Sick” will almost inevitably leave you feeling confused. In a way, the play is like a mysterious sickness itself. You know that feeling (terror) when you first feel symptoms; and you don’t get any choice about the journey you are now on; the symptoms might get better, or worse, or weirder at any moment. And is there a happy ending? Maybe; #1 does go home, and perhaps the relationship between #1 and #2 was indeed tender and valuable; going with the “Wizard of Oz” analogy, when Dorothy is about to leave Oz, she tells the Scarecrow: “I think I’ll miss you most of all.”
The show plays until March 3 at Salt Lake Acting Company, tickets are available here.
