"STANDING ON MY KNEES," Janus Theatre at Stage Left Theatre
BY LUCIA MAURO
Only someone with a heart of stone would not be moved by John Olive’s 1981 drama, "Standing on My Knees," which addresses the stifling effects of Thorazine on a young writer. Suffering from schizophrenia, the main character Catherine tries to suppress the imaginary voices that plague her via an emotion-numbing drug treatment prescribed by her therapist. The price? A steady erasing of her own creative voice as a poet.
But as I watched Janus Theatre’s competent but stilted production at Stage Left Theatre, I suddenly was hit by the play’s rather inconsistent and superficial approach to mental illness – a realization I attribute to the script’s inability to age well. Each self-conscious scene – exacerbated by director Sean Patrick Hargadon’s awkwardly configured set on Stage Left’s small stage – exhibited a regimented quality, with the actors veering into types and not looking entirely comfortable in their characters’ skin, even though they are tackling very fragile roles.
At the heart of the play stands a woman trapped between hyperawareness and emotional novicane. Most tragic, the very art that makes her feel alive also can kill her. When Catherine gets romantically involved with a stockbroker (Robert), who is oblivious to the devastation of her shakily managed mental illness, more frustrating complications arise. And it is this plot-driving relationship that the playwright has not clearly figured out. It forces the actors to blurt out incongruous invectives and prevents them from homing in on a believable motivation. Robert’s physical attraction to, fear of and anger toward Catherine – all understandable emotions considering the tumultuous circumstances – appear forced and further mire the story in soap-opera antics.
Another subplot involving Catherine’s unstable, acid-tongued publisher Alice suffers from a similar half-realized chaos. Alice also comes across as a now-offensive power-woman cliché. Her pursuit of a demanding career in publishing is blamed for her own marital problems and unfulfilling life in general. Joseph the therapist could be a talking head – he’s so completely devoid of compassion, or life, for that matter.
Catherine, however, remains in alternately clear and fuzzy focus. And it’s really her gut-wrenching story that pulls us in. But the drama is plagued by an odd combination of gaping holes and thematic overkill. We are perpetually reminded of Catherine’s battle between leading a "normal" sedated life and an artistically satisfying but psychologically unbearable, non-medicated existence.
What’s missing is a fuller examination into Catherine’s past, her dreams and abilities beyond the verses she writes. We’re also left wondering about the quality of her writing. The two collections she has published are impossible to find, and her choice of a poetry-writing career alone makes her a prime candidate for more than one day job to support herself and her art.
When Catherine and Robert are together, they spend more time sipping red wine and struggling to converse than learning about each other. Plus Robert’s overpowering visceral attraction makes one wonder if his intentions are purely self-motivated. And Alice, who offers Catherine a part-time job as an editor, exists in limbo – somewhere between loving surrogate mother and insensitive opportunist intent on not letting her prized writer evaporate in a Thorazine haze.
Janus Theatre, a four-year-old itinerant company that has performed in the suburbs, makes its Chicago debut. Its choice of material is certainly sincere and noble. The actors are obviously committed to the script. But Hargadon’s straightforward approach does not unveil any new or provocative dimensions. It’s also an exceptionally sanitized staging on various levels. For example, the love scenes between Catherine and Robert are entirely unconvincing – especially when the pair gets out of bed with nearly all of their clothes on.
Patricia True plunges fiercely into the fiendishly difficult role of Catherine but hasn’t quite mastered her character’s sardonic candor clouded in uncontrollable misery. She’s more jittery than desperate. And, it isn’t until her final devastating scene, that True captures Catherine’s tender and fiery essence.
Chris Agos does not take too many risks as Robert. But his performance is solid and earnest. On opening night, however, Agos appeared too conscious of playing a part rather than giving himself over to his character’s aching ambivalence. Ruth Neaveill’s Alice tends to get stuck in predictable eccentricities and bitterly sweeping bon mots. Joseph Schuman’s nondescript psychologist cries out for a more human portrayal.
Olive’s script remains relevant in more general terms, particularly in its brave explorations of the non-romantic side of artistic genius coupled with mental illness. But, like Catherine’s medicated emotional void, the play feels like it’s suppressing its own artistic ability to more boldly tackle a topic of great depth, sorrow, conviction and hope.•
Janus Theatre’s production of "Standing on My Knees" runs through August 31 at Stage Left Theatre, 3408 N. Sheffield. Tickets: $15. Call 847-931-7247.
